Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

“‘In the last days, God says,
    I will pour out my Spirit on all people.
Your sons and daughters will prophesy,
    your young men will see visions,
    your old men will dream dreams.
Even on my servants, both men and women,
    I will pour out my Spirit in those days,
    and they will prophesy.

• Acts 2:17-18

“And afterward, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.

• Joel 2:2

Lately, I have written about how exhausted I have been.  I needed more days when the alarm did not go off because my wife had dialysis or doctors appointments or that rare instance when I had a meeting or an appointment.  Once or twice in the past few months, I have written about the latest readjustment in views and visitors to this site.  I end the posts with only God having the glory, so I should not complain.  He knows who reads it and who needs the encouragement or the proper message.  I pray that the words that I write do not get in the way of God’s message.  But when the statistics dwindle, I start praying, wondering if I have said the wrong thing.  That Voice in my head keeps saying for me not to worry about it, just keep going.

That brings me to the morning that I am writing this, actually on Valentine’s Day.  I awoke about thirty minutes before the alarm went off, a little before 5:00am.  I thought that I would just lay on my back and wait for the alarm.  There was no way I could go back to sleep, but I did, a deep sleep in which dreams were possible.

My dream started … There were too people at the door, so I opened the door.  One person was white and dressed in white.  Not Caucasian, pure white.  The other person was electric blue, both skin color and clothing.  It seemed they wore robes the same color as their skin.  In spite of this startling sight, I welcomed them into the house.  They said nothing, but they smiled and I felt calm with them there.  Then the alarm went off.

I went to the upstairs bathroom, starting to think about what I would grab from the closet in the adjoining room.  It was a dialysis day.  That was what was going to be such a bummer.  This special day for those who love each other on a dialysis day when my wife would be at dialysis or sleeping all day.  But, the phone rang.  When my wife was in a different room, maybe the adjoining room, she would call using her cell phone.  Her message was short.  “Go back to bed, I called off from dialysis.”  It was five hours later that I learned she had diarrhea all night in spite of taking Imodium with her evening meal.

I was frustrated even more.  When the alarm goes off, I am up, regardless of how exhausted I am.  Going back to sleep, based on rough observations from the past, was a one in a hundred proposition, but I wanted to go back and visit with those two men.  I put on the CPAP and a miracle happened, no leaks that blow cold air into my eyes.  Another miracle, no arthritis pain that makes every available sleeping position painful.  And the alertness caused by the alarm faded rapidly.  I would not awaken for over three more hours.

Back to the Dream (and my wife says she has never had a dream continue after awaking and then going back to sleep, but I have had many of them): … I was back at my workstation, but somehow, it had become mobile, so that I could see the white man working and the electric blue man working. They did not distract me.  I pulled reference books from the shelves and searched online for things and I did a lot of typing, but the white man, pure-white, not Caucasian, would bend down and pick up some dirt in his hands.  It seemed that energy emanated from his hands.  The dirt was now a perfectly formed brick.  He pointed to the ground.  All the grass disappeared in a spot just the right size and shape to place the brick.  The white man, or might I say angel, placed the brick into that spot.  He knew that any organic material underneath the brick would weaken the foundation, but unlike a construction crew that digs deep and much wider than the foundation of a house to rid the area of grass, tree roots, coal seams, and carcasses from dead animals, the white angel pointed and only cleared the space needed for the one brick.  He then picked up more dirt, repeated the process, laying the brick next to the one before, and in time upon other bricks he had laid earlier.  Each time that I noticed, not being distracted from my writing, I only saw the brick he was working on.  And I was amazed that he was pure white, but while working with dirt and making bricks, his hands never got dirty.

The electric blue angel would stand near me.  As someone walked past, he would point his hand.  Blue light, like a lightning bolt would appear from a couple of his fingers, hitting the person.  The person would not be harmed, but they would drop to their knees in prayer, seemingly accepting Jesus as their Savior.  That must have been what happened, but it is only my guess.  What I knew was that they got up praising God.  It seemed that the blue angel dimmed while the bolt appeared, but that may have been from the intense brightness of the electric lightning bolt, not having a better word for it. Some of the people were just minding their own business, but some were doing mischief. But the electric blue angel kept searching for the next person.

And I said that my workstation was mobile.  These angels were doing their work along city streets, in the farmlands, in foreign countries, in city parks, but I had no sensation that I was moving.  I was simply aware of what these angels were doing.  One brick at a time.  One person at a time.

And then I finally became distracted with what they did for one brief moment.  I thought, ‘What are these two angels accomplishing?’

And then my vision of what they were doing took a step backwards so that I could see the bigger picture.

There before me was a good-sized church, and it was filled with people.  The white angel had built the building, the physical church, and the electric blue angel had built the spiritual church, the community of believers, the true church, who filled the church building.

And all that time, I kept writing.

So, if you get frustrated that the database has less views and visitors than it did last year or two years ago, keep going.  When you become exhausted, God will give you the strength, if He has given you something to write about.

Jesus said to not worry.  Years ago, before this blogsite became a reality, God told me when He was trying to get me to write this stuff and put it online, that He would deal with the other stuff; I was simply the person writing stuff down.

And in the dream, the church was filled by God, seen in the dream as two angels.  I did not fill the church.  That is the concern of God, and far above my paygrade.  I am only there to write stuff and upload it to the blogsite.

Thank You, Lord.  In a time of great exhaustion and growing frustration, I needed to know that You are the One who deals with what seeds grow, where they grow, or even when they grow.  I just write stuff. In Your Name I pray.  Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria.  Only to God be the Glory.