He explained that he had a legal riddle for us, and we were to use the items on our desks as clues to write a paper on a certain aspect of the law.
Try as I might, I couldn't make heads nor tails out of what I was supposed to do. I even noticed, as my classmates were hungrily munching away on their toast, that the two pieces of toast on my desk were engraved with tiny letters that presumably contained some sort of message. I studied it, but couldn't understand.
To make things worse, my haughty professor kept hounding me about what I had come up with so far, and each time I answered, he ridiculed and mocked me. I'm not into name-calling, but since he was a figment of my imagination, I will freely call him what he was: an arrogant jerk.
I don't know if I ever handed anything in, but, later in the dream, I found myself in charge of a reception for the new law students. I opened the door of the classroom and entered a beautiful reception hall, which had either been magically decorated, or I had been very busy before class, before becoming aware of my dream.
The devil was there--oh, yes he was--in the form of a beautiful woman, standing alone by a table in the back of the room. She was impeccably dressed, made up, and coiffed; but her true identity glared through her eyes at me, and was reflected in her evil smile.
I confidently marched up to her and told her in no uncertain terms that she was to leave immediately.
She didn't argue. On her way out, though, one of my classmates, a happy, hippyish--looking guy, locked eyes with her, smiled, and followed her out the door. She looked back at me with an evil, smug smirk, and the two of them disappeared.
Then I awoke.
A crazy dream, to be sure, but it reminds me of how I see my life sometimes. I often feel like I can't make any sense of things that everyone else has figured out. I've got all these pieces of my life that I'm trying to fit together properly, all these "clues" about what I should be doing or how I should be doing it, yet feeling inadequate to put it all together correctly.
I know my enemy, and frequently sense his lurking presence, a powerful coward waiting to pounce on any weakness. I, too, know the power I have over him through Jesus Christ, but am all too aware of the footholds I willingly offer.
And I feel more than see the evil, smug smirk.
How grateful I am that my peace does not depend on me. I was born too far gone to ever grasp it.
How grateful I am for Jesus, who is mightier than any pompous person I might encounter, who knows how the pieces of the puzzle of my life fit together, and who has already conquered my enemy.
And He invites me to walk in that victory . . .
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