High Maintenance Christianity: Feet on the Ground
- Wednesday, February 04, 2004
I’m going to tell you a story. It’s a very strange story, but it’s a true story. It’s a story I don’t usually tell, so count yourself as being “in” on a kind of “secret.”
It was the year 2000 and I was months from attending the Christian Booksellers Association International Convention for the second time. The previous year I’d met with an editor and sold my first book idea. This year I would get to see my “baby” in print and it seemed that my ministry was really taking off. I was extremely excited.
Then, one night in February and while at the beach with a friend, I had a most disturbing dream. I dreamt I was at the convention and had just returned to the hotel from a long day “on the floor.” As I stood with a comrade, waiting for the elevator, I noticed a woman standing in the lobby. She had long, wild blond hair, wore her makeup a bit overstated, and—even though she was heavyset—she was clothed in a very short and tight skirt with an equally clinging halter top. My eyes scanned her up and down. There was something not quite right about her; though she was tall, her legs stopped just below her knees. They had literally been severed.
“Who is that?” I asked my friend. “And what happened to her legs?”
Turning to look at her she answered, “That’s the hotel prostitute. They were severed at birth in some sort of accident.”
The elevator doors opened and my friend and I entered. As I turned back toward the lobby I could see that the prostitute was looking directly at me, as though I had something she wanted. Blessedly, the doors closed.
We went on up to our room (and this is the personal part) where I discovered our bathroom was in use by another roommate. I was in dire need of said room, so I went back downstairs to the lobby where I entered the ladies’ room. Inside the stall I became aware that someone else was in the room…and that the someone else didn’t have any feet. As one can only do in a dream, I could see through the door…could see her turning toward me…saw her dip her head downward…downward…as if to look in on me in a sordid way. The stall door began to swing open. “Noooooo!” I screamed, pushing my feet toward her. As I did, she exposed fanged teeth…and prepared to sink them into the flesh around my ankles… The prostitute was trying to steal my feet…because she had none.
The Body Beautiful/Physical
I awoke with a start. Around me the room seemed to be spinning. Looking to the right I saw my friend sleeping in the opposite bed. I sprang up, fighting to catch my breath. Somehow I made my way into the bathroom where I flipped on the light, sank to the floor, and began to pray, “Father, in the name of Jesus…Father, in the name of Jesus…” It was all I could say. Literally.
Eventually the pounding of my heart subsided. I washed my face with cold water and returned to my bed. As soon as I slipped between the cool sheets, a “voice” whispered, “How beautiful the feet of those who bring the gospel of peace.” (Romans 10:15) I began to repeat the scripture over and over and over again until I felt peaceful enough to return to sleep.
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