Was it just a daydream?

I was sitting in the living room at Mandy's place where the house church I belonged to was meeting. One of the elders was speaking on some topic. I was bored, so my mind began to wander and I had the following daydream:

I needed to talk with my father about something, so I went to the castle where my father was the king. I walked across the drawbridge under the portcullis hanging above the gate and into the courtyard. Two guards in armor were standing by the castle entrance, and they ignored me as I reached to open the door and enter the castle. I walked down the hallway where other guards were silently standing at attention on either side of the hall. I approached the door to the king's chamber and looked up at the guards standing silently on either side of the doorway. I slowly opened the door and looked into the room.

The king was hunched over his table together with his counsellors. They were discussing important matters while examining some papers on the table. Realizing the king was too busy that I should interrupt him for such an unimportant matter as mine was, I turned around and left the room, quietly closing the door behind me. 

With my head hanging and feeling sad, I walked slowly back down the passageway and out through the castle door. I walked across the courtyard, under the portcullis, and onto the drawbridge. But just as I was about to step off the drawbridge, I remembered something:

Wait a minute — he's my FATHER!!!

I quickly turned around and ran back through the gate into the courtyard. The guards saluted me as I approached and opened the castle door for me. I ran down the hallway and the guards on either side briskly saluted as I ran past. And when I reached the door to the king's chamber, the guards standing there opened it and waved me in to enter. I ran into the room where my father the king was busy conferring with his counsellors, and I shouted "Dad! Dad!!"

The king immediately straightened up and looked straight at me. Then he brusquely waved away his counsellors and told them to leave the room. Pushing his papers aside, he lifted me onto his table and putting his arm around me, said, "Son, what's wrong?"

I can't help wanting to cry whenever I remember this daydream. I'm crying right now in fact, even though this happened many years ago when I was a young man who had only been a Christian a few years. It was my first powerful experience of the fatherhood of God, and the effect it had on the others in our house church — I think someone had asked me what I thought about the topic being discussed, and when I didn't respond they realized my attention had been elsewhere — but when I told the group what I had been just been daydreaming, the effect on them was electric: "Whoooaaahhh!" most of them said, leaning back on their sofas in amazement. 

That felt nice.

At the end of our house church service, one of the elders asked if I would like to bring the message the following Sunday. I said yes, and I spent that whole week trying to think up more parables (made-up stories that taught a lesson) I could share with the group. Well, the following Sunday finally arrived, and the church members looked on with smiling expectation as I began sharing my parables... 

They were hugely disappointed. My thought-up parables were contrived and lame, and I felt more and more embarrassed as I shared them under the increasing frowns of the listeners. Needless to say, no one thanked me at the end of my sermon.

That didn't feel nice. 

Some thoughts and analysis

Clearly my experience had been more than just a daydream: it was a revelation of the Father's love. One might expect that such a revelation would have had a deep and lasting effect on my understanding of the Fatherhood of God and my relationship with Him. 

It didn't. I was still the same insecure young man afterwards: passive, unassertive, lacking in confidence, full of self-doubt and plagued with anxiety. My revelation didn't "take" in my innermost being and had zero impact on my spiritual growth as a young Christian. Why?

Perhaps it was because I already understood that God was my Father and that He loved me, for I knew I had eternal life because of what Jesus had done for me on the cross. So my daydream didn't really tell me anything that I didn't already know. 

But I think the real reason my daydream had so little impact on me was because of my relationship with my earthly father. I loved my dad, and I know he loved me too; he proved that in so many ways when I was growing up. But my dad had his own struggles with insecurity that affected his behavior towards me and which left me feeling uncertain about his love for me. For example, dad could be demonstrative in showing affection by giving me hugs and expressing admiration for my achievements. But he could also be sharp and cutting with his words, calling me a jerk when I did something stupid or withdrawing in coldness whenever I rejected his advice. Because of these mixed messages I received from him, I found it difficult to approach my father whenever I needed something, fearing he might reject my request. But whenever I did ask him for something, he almost always gave it to me. 

I think this confusion I experienced regarding my earthly father's feelings towards me probably carried over into my relationship with my new Father when I became a Christian. The first part of my daydream seems to confirm this, while the dream's ending shows my Heavenly Father's true feelings towards me. But just as my dad's demonstrations of affection could be negated by a single expression of his criticism, my assurance of God's love towards me was similarly precariously balanced at this point in my Christian life. After all, what if I don't live up to my Heavenly Father's expectations? Will He still love me? And yes, I was aware that Romans 8 says there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. But what if I sometimes still walked according to the flesh instead of according to the Spirit? Was I truly in Christ if I struggled so often with sin in my life? 

These kinds of arguments raged through my mind in the early years of my Christian life. Truth is, even though I had become a convinced Evangelical by that point, all the sound doctrine I had learned didn't really help me very much — and this despite having read all six volumes of Martin Lloyd-Jones's commentary on Romans and memorized much of the first eight chapters of Romans in the original Greek! 

In a future post I'll explore this question of why experiences of God's love don't always help help us grow spiritually. But for now, let me just conclude with one final, and I think very important, observation concerning my house church daydream/revelation. I believe that the most fundamental reason why this particular revelation had so little impact upon me personally is because it wasn't actually intended for me: it was intended for the others who attended that house church meeting. My daydream was a gift from the Holy Spirit, and such gifts are given for the common good (1 Corinthians 12:7) not to bring the person who delivers the gift high regard from others or boost their self-esteem. But none of us in our house church understood this as we were all die-hard Evangelicals: good, solid Christians, but limited in some ways by our cessationist theology. So when I shared my daydream with them, the elders reacted by thinking I must be a gifted teacher and invited me to bring the message next time. And since among Evangelicals being a gifted preacher is often viewed as the sina qua non of being a committed Christian, I readily assented to their invitation — and was then deeply hurt by their reaction on the following Sunday. 

Fortunately I now have a better understanding of what the Christian life is supposed to be like, some of which Ingrid and I have tried to describe in our free book Simple Kingdom: Discipleship. But I'm telling you, it's been a long, hard journey, and I'm looking forward to reaching the finish line. Because then there won't be any more questions —I'll see Him face to face. 

Take care, and be filled to overflowing with the Father's love.

—Mitch