Coming to the Cross

This story recounts a woman’s dream about a “House of Skeletons” and blood.

It also is a story about fear and how, with God’s help, I was able to confront it. Finally and ultimately, it is a story about the cross of Christ.

Things began several months ago. Our visa was expiring and I was afraid. It was such a bureaucratic process, run by hard-hearted officials. We had gone through it the year before, and it was emotionally draining and difficult.

There was no reason to believe that it wouldn’t be harder this year — and even that the visa might be denied. What was going to happen to me, my family, our hopes and dreams if that happened?

As a member of the Christian Reformed Church and a follower of Jesus living in a predominant Muslim country, I knew I should put this in God's hands. But as the days passed, my anxiety grew.

A Woman’s Dream

Then one day, a friend came to us saying she had a dream about our situation.

Gazing intensely, she used her best English to tell us things wouldn't be easy, but would be OK.

I wanted to hear more, and she said, "I saw a house …"

I waited.

"You know, the type where... , ah ...”

"Ah, what?" I asked.

She had to grasp for the right words, using her hands to bridge the verbal and cultural gap between us. “A bad house, ah, scary …”

Watching her hands make what seemed like a peak of a house, I took a guess.“A haunted house?”

She nodded, letting me know there was more, her hands spreading out, trying to show me something flatter and more scattered. "Yes," she said, "a place where, ah, bones ...”

She gazed at me, hoping I got it.

Bones from people? I asked myself. “Skeletons?"

She nodded. "Yes, skeletons... and darkness…It will be difficult…"

I shuddered, not liking this. But then her dream took an incredible turn and she found the words to express it.

“I saw the blood of Jesus between you and the darkness, and in the end you will have your paper.”

Comfort Starts to Grow

We left it there. But in the following weeks, her dream popped up in my head.

I was comforted — or so I thought — by the fact that everything is in God's hands and he has control over every situation. That he would give me words to say when the time came. I even told myself that I had peace about the results, as we had options before us.

But still I struggled, and now it was with something that seemed to cut at me much more deeply. I wasn't sure what, other than it was that “house of skeletons,” that darkness, the blood-draining fear of the unknown, a sense of my own fears, that kept gripping me when I thought of making the visit to the visa office.

My mind whirled. Finally, a few days before the interview, I tried to lay it again before the Lord.

Surrender

I was cooking dinner and listening to worship music. As I had done countless times, I started to pray for Christ to help us and to be with us — and to protect us from that house of bones and the fear it represented.

This time, my heart started to lighten as I imagined leaving the house of bones, escaping that smothering place of fear, and finding myself entering freely into the house of God’s presense. A house given only through the bloody bones of Christ. Of the man who died for me.

I began to celebrate Jesus, and as I did this I was given great comfort. I prayed that his sovereign peace and blessing would be over that official building and over the visa officers, too.

Going Before the Manager

The day finally arrived. I was nervous. But the visa office, which is usually buzzing with people — swarming with foreigners seeking a new or renewed visas, alive with people with legal difficulties, wealthy people, poor people, all crowded into this small building — was nearly empty.

Incredibly, it would remain so. When our turn came, the first officer was kind and asked only a couple questions. Then he sent me to the next officer behind a desk, who told me I needed to talk with the manager upstairs if I wanted to continue.

I left my family behind, ready to go this last part alone, remembering the visa office manager from last year. Let's just say he had been very unkind...

I slowly trudged up the steps and took my place in line before the closed door of the visa manager's office. My heart thumped; fear crept in. The house of skeletons seemed to surround me.

But I locked my thoughts on Christ and my mood lifted when I saw an old man leaving the visa officer's room. The old man didn't have a beaten, sad look on his face. In fact, he offered many blessings to the office manager.

I saw that the manager seemed to be in a good mood. Still, I felt trepidation, as if I was stepping into a dark, fearful place, when I entered his office.

The office manager asked me some questions and then, in the most surprising fashion, asked to meet my family. They joined us and the man warmed more with the kids present, again asking questions.

What were we doing there? Where did we get our money? We answered and he seemed especially surprised by our reasons for leaving the comfort of the U.S. to come to his country.

He granted us a one-year extension, for that we are thankful. There were many smiles and no stress. He even said, to our shock: “You speak kindly and are a good person.” What, me, I thought?

As we left the office, I thought again of my friend and her dream. She had been reminding us that God is miraculous, supreme, and control, and lives beyond any darkness we can imagine or fear.

She had brought us to the cross. It was amazing.