I couldn’t believe it. It was my seventh disturbing dream this year. Some of the dreams were sexual in nature, others financial, but they all had to do with the same thing: being violated.

Now why in the world I would have dreams as menacing as these, I had no idea. Were they from the Lord, from the devil, or simply poor food choices? Frankly, I wasn‘t sure. All I knew was that for months now, I’ve awakened scared; sometimes the fright so intense that I had to awake my husband for comfort.

Despite the fact that I could interpret dreams from time to time, I had no insight regarding these. Perhaps it was because the first three were all the same. A dream of being molested not by one person, but by a gang of possibly three people.

Try as I might to figure out why I was having the same recurring dream, I came up empty-handed. Oh sure...I realized that I didn’t feel safe, but aside from that...I didn’t know what to make of them. Realistically there was only one thing I could do: Write my dreams down and then wait for God to connect the dots.

But shortly after that series of nightmares ended, I had another bout of dreams: only these had to do with being robbed. Most took place in my home, but more recently, I was robbed at a bus stop. Specifically, the dream went like this.

I was standing at a bus stop and had placed my purse on the top of the bench. After walking away from it momentarily to look for the bus, I noticed a man positioning himself close to it. Suspecting that he had the intention of running off with it, I immediately headed back towards him to reach for my purse. When he reached for it as well, I screamed for help, but no one there would come to my aid. It was then that I kneed him in the groin, took the purse back, and jumped on the bus. When I stopped to ask God what this one meant, I finally got an interpretation.

He showed me that my waiting at a bus stop was symbolic of my wanting to go somewhere: to advance into the future. The purse that I had set down on the back of the bench was representative of my financial security. However when I saw the man (who I assumed was my husband) eye my purse, I became suspicious, believing that he wanted to do me harm and not good. Not trusting his intentions, I fought him for it, injured him in the process, and then ran away. As for the people on the bench, the reason they didn’t assist me was because they didn’t see anything wrong.

Okay, so there it was (or so I thought)! The purpose of the dream was to reveal that I had difficulty trusting my spouse in regard to our finances; that I was suspicious of him, and rather than believe that his intentions towards me would be for good, I chose to think the worst and protect myself.

Pleased that God had finally revealed a key to my difficulty with trust, I called a good friend of mine to share my insight. Boy, what a revelation I received by the time our phone call had ended.

Ann, a long-time friend and confidant, listened whole-heartedly while I relayed my story. After being further questioned by her, I came to realize that my struggle with trust was entrenched deep in my past. Yes, it was evident in my current relationship with my husband, but he was not the cause. I could even see how my trust had been violated through other men I had dated, who had used me monetarily or intimately. But the root of it, where it all began, truly stemmed from my relationship with my father.

Although now deceased, I loved my father in the best way I knew how, just as I’m sure he did the same for me. However because he did not know Jesus and live out his life according to biblical principles, I grew up with a skewed image of the character of God and of men in general: An image that unfortunately caused me to become suspicious of, rather than trusting. An image formed in childhood that still had profound effects on my present circumstances.

Trust, as defined by Webster, is an assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something.

Growing up, I was able to rely on my father’s ability and strength. That much, I could trust. But through the grace of God, I recently discovered that I did not grow up with an assured reliance of his character or truth. Though created to be an earthly example of God’s character to me (His love, peace, joy, kindness, goodness, patience, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control), my father regrettably missed the mark.

I don’t believe that he intended to deceive me, he just didn’t know any better. But when he dismissed his untruths as little white lies, I became skeptical. When he made statements that devalued my worth, or told jokes at my expense, my self-esteem suffered and insecurity soared. When he set me aside in improper ways to focus on others in the family, I felt rejected and grew jealous because I wasn‘t the favored one. And of course even as an adult, if I didn’t allow him to have his own way, to violate my will, then I felt the loss of his love. Over time I subtly learned the message that love was conditional; that I couldn’t trust love, unless I performed in a certain way.

When it came to finances, I wasn’t respected for disciplining myself to save. Rather, I was told I was selfish for not sharing with those who hadn’t done the same. When years of delayed gratification and obedience to the Lord made it possible for me to travel, I wasn‘t esteemed but envied. I was made to feel guilty, and therefore came to understand that I was loved and valued, not as much for who I was, but for how I (i.e. my finances) could be used.

I came to recognize men as authority figures who wanted to take advantage of me, rather than cherish me. Men who didn’t want to give, but take. No wonder the dreams! God wanted to reveal that I had learned to be suspicious; that because I couldn’t have faith in the integrity of my own father, I had difficulty submitting to and depending on the character of my husband, and ultimately God Himself.

I can’t say that coming to this revelation has been easy: it hasn’t been. After all, who wants to look at their past, much less dissect it with a fine-toothed comb? Nor was it done quickly, without regard for my feelings. For only my heavenly Father knew how many dreams it would take to bring me to the place when I would be ready to uncover the truth. What it has been though is extremely gentle. A caring work of the Holy Spirit, designed to set me free from all that held me bound.

How did I get free? I went through the process that God himself laid out for me. Through journaling and prayer, I forgave my father. I mentally walked through the wounds of the past, forgiving him for each and every word, thought and deed, that was not an example of God’s character to me. I then repented before God, for knowingly or unknowingly aligning myself with the enemy of my soul: For harboring anger, resentment, and bitterness towards my Dad, towards God Himself and even towards myself.

I renounced Satan’s lie that I was selfish, that I needed to protect myself at all costs, that I was unworthy and therefore unlovable. I then broke off the spirits that had ruled, controlled and manipulated me these past decades. Whether it was a spirit of jealousy, suspicion, insecurity, control, or rejection, I took authority in God’s name. When each work was done, I then sealed it with the blood of the Lamb of God. I asked Jesus to wash me clean—body, soul and spirit—and fill me with His truth.

What was the truth that God wanted to me to know?

Only this: That He is love and He can be trusted; for He is a giver and not a taker.

Was God talking to me? Absolutely. He wanted me to know that although my past was not his perfect plan, it didn’t have to influence my future anymore.

Has God been speaking to you? If so, do yourself a favor and listen. One thing I know for certain: His plan is to do you good, not evil, all the days of your life. You can trust Him!

Comments

mhanrahan

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This story reflects much painful introspection...and the grace to forgive an be healed. Thank you for opening yourself up to God and to us.

Wednesday 13 October 2010, 07:38

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