My eyes opened and it was dark. Waves of relief rippled through my body. My breathing slowed and began to fade into a smooth rhythm once more. The nightmare was over. The terror had past. It was only a dream.
Last night at 4:30 in the morning I was faced with a terrifying scenario. In my dream as I stepped into the pulpit to begin the sermon, everyone stood up and walked out. Like zombies they fell into step behind one another. Silent and unresponsive, they were seemingly oblivious to anything that went on around them. As I followed them on their march downstairs, I found them standing in a basement surrounded by water pouring from the ceiling, silent and glassy eyed, doing nothing.
Am I am terrified of being involved with people who fail to see, who are unresponsive and silent in response to what happens around them? Maybe it’s a fear of becoming that myself. Of failing to see and live with purpose. Perhaps I’m afraid that I’ll fail at whatever it is God has called me to do in sharing the Good News. It wasn’t a good dream.
Church zombies are surprisingly scary but very enlightening. I’m pleased to report that this morning’s service was not filled with zombies but was instead a warm, friendly group of people. Nevertheless maybe I should work on some martial arts moves. You never know when the zombie apocalypse might come…
