THE DREAM OF FIELDS

I dropped into the bed, like the aging, achy man I am becoming. It was a little worse a few nights ago. Recent events made my body as heavy as my mind and heart. The tragedy was bad enough, but equally tragic were the unexpected responses from those I thought I knew well.

I closed my eyes to the anger, the confusion, in shock, and my despondency.

The many pillows, ceiling fan, and covers did their work and I was soon transported.

The first thing I heard was a sea of human voices. They were talking quietly, loudly, laughing, whispering, carrying on a million conversations. I was rooted, literally it seemed, outside in a wide-open space of hills and valleys. I sensed more than saw that it was twilight. Familiar and friendly faces were close beside me, chatting to each other and me. We were shoulder to shoulder. I stretched up and looked around as far as I could. There were rolling hills and shallow valleys with nothing but shoulder-to-shoulder humanity standing on every inch, close enough that their bodies touched. We were all standing as a casual multitude, chatting happily (or not so) with each other. I heard those who were close directing conversations to me, but I was somehow having an “out-of-body” …it was, after all, a dream.

Then, a sudden crack, a bat hitting a ball, or a bullet tearing through the field, and two things happened. First, the conversation stopped for a millisecond and then picked up with more fervor, unfamiliar, feral. Second, I had an eye-opening realization that many around me, those who had looked so familiar, suddenly did not seem familiar at all…and some…antagonistic.

As the sun continued to set, quiet and soft rain began to fall. A breeze came up, causing us all to bend as it blew across the hills to where my little valley stood. Heads moved and danced slightly, like waves on the sea. It was suddenly where I was and I bent as well, my feet firmly planted. I said, 

“What happened? Suddenly I’m not sure of my footing. I’m not sure of my surroundings or those that stand around me…it used to be familiar and good. Now I feel our differences and not our similarities…it seems like everything has shifted.” 

And then The Breeze spoke, “You are right, but there are also some of these who harbor more than differences. Some stand in complete opposition to your moral belief and condition. They are not like you, nor you like them, in important ways.” 

“So, I think I should do something.” I said to the Breeze.

“You should do what I’ve always told you to do.” 

“You’ve been speaking to me?” 

“I’ve been speaking to all, to you and to these. Those who have ears will hear.” 

“Ah, ears…hahaha…I see what you did there. Ears. Corn. Field.” 

The Breeze seemed to “look” at me with the conscious patience of a teacher, with some not-unkind patronizing, and smiled.

“This is what I say to you, and to all.
 Speak the Truth thoughtfully.
Live the Truth generously.
Embrace all, kindly.
Wait for the harvest.” 

“What about love, isn’t that what it’s all about?” I said, with just a hint of sarcasm. “I am now aware my feelings may have changed about some of these millions on millions…finding a way to love is difficult, suddenly.

“I said nothing about ‘feeling’. What do you think ‘love-by-choice’ is but acting kindly, and being thoughtful about the Truth, and generously giving that Truth (which is life and love) to all, equally?” 

“Should I turn away from them…at the least, or help remove them from the field…at the most?” 

“No.” The Breeze grew stronger. “Do you think that all of creation is simply ‘here’? Do you think that all creation is ‘static’? No, these, like every part of creation are living, growing, changing beings. What they think now is not as they have thought before. What they speak now, is not the way they spoke before. Neither will they think and speak like this in the future. 

You neither have the knowledge nor the authority to hinder any of these before The Harvest. You don’t have the knowledge to judge YOURSELF, so how could you judge THEM? A lot can happen between planting and harvest…and only The Farmer knows the field from beginning to end.” 

It was silent for a while. Only the reflected light of the moon shown on the rain and the heads of millions over the rolling hills and valleys of humanity. We didn’t seem to be bothered by the wet…it was, after all, simply a dream.

It was all quiet and blue, but I spoke to The Breeze, in the type of voice that comes out of knowing things now that I wished I didn’t know.

“I can see now what I couldn’t see before. Some of these don’t really want ME here, and some in fact HATE my very presence. They may be ‘nice’ to my face, but would be happier if I were gone. 

The Breeze came again. 

“What others think of you is none of your business.
What you think of them is ALL of your business. 

‘Nice’ is not the same as ‘Kind’. ‘Kind’ is what I ask…it comes from a deeper place and is not a mask slipped on simply to cover inner cruelty. 

When the Sun rises on the field, His light will help The Farmer see and know what to harvest…based on Truth, generosity, and kindness…which is the ‘act’ of love-by-choice.” 

“I still think that I could help. I could point out those that aren’t speaking or behaving correctly…they shouldn’t be…” 

The Breeze interrupted me. 

“You would do more harm than good.
You have neither the knowledge nor the authority.
Speak the Truth thoughtfully.
Live the Truth generously.
Embrace all, kindly…and wait for The Harvest.” 

The sun started to rise. The Breeze started to move on. The voices were like the sound of the ocean to me. The faces close were still familiar. The faces farther off were less so. But they all crowded around me as The Breeze passed through us again. I bent, and I could feel my feet becoming more “rooted” to the ground with every bend of The Breeze…as if growing roots.

The close bodies transformed into my pillows and covers once again. There were the familiar shadows of my bedroom. It was still dark. It was still night. I was still despondent. I could not fall back to sleep.

Maybe nothing had changed…maybe something had…

…after all, a lot can happen between planting and harvest. I’m not fully grown yet, and I am not simply ‘here’ or simply ‘static’. I am a living, growing, changing…and learning, being. I am responsible only for myself, but my love for The Farmer, the Sun, and The Breeze is dependent on my generosity to all those around me. My dealings with those others in the field will determine how The Farmer harvests…and what He harvests.

And so, I will speak the Truth thoughtfully.
I will live the Truth generously.
I will embrace all, kindly…and…

…I will wait for The Harvest.

MATTHEW 13:34-30