the blood was thick and deep red. almost purple. my skin crawled. my heart ached. I looked up at the man standing in front of me, the man who had just pronounced death to my Savior. “someday you will realize what you’ve done and you’ll wish you had died in his place.” my voice caught as tears spilled and burned paths down my cheeks.
the crowds grew louder. I turned and looked. he was wearing a purple robe, thorns on his head. his face was bloody and I knew that under the robe his body was beaten and raw. I started running, calling his name. “Abba, my Abba…” I stopped short of throwing my arms around him. I knew it would cause him pain.
he didn’t stop. he drew me close, even as his face contorted in agony.
“I’m sorry, Abba.” I whispered into his neck. “I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”
his voice came then. rushing and running like a river. “I’m making all things new. Go, tell them.”
I looked up at his face. he was looking past me toward a field that sat below Golgotha.
I saw them then. hundreds of children playing in the shadow of a cross.
“Tell them, daughter,” he whispered in my ear, “tell my loved ones that I am making all things new.”
I woke up from that dream back in 2004. I was attending Bible School at the time and we had gone as a school to watch The Passion. That night I couldn't sleep even though I had watched the movie with eyes covered. I finally prayed, "God, let me sleep... I need to get up for school tomorrow." And that night I dreamed.
I had found my passion. It might have been a dream but it wasn't just a dream. It was God speaking. And anytime I close my eyes I can see them. The children playing in the shadow of a cross.