This past Sunday I had a noteworthy waking experience. I was PJ’d for colder weather than we’re having right now, and I got really hot overnight. I was aware in my sleep that I was hot. I can’t stand being hot when I’m trying to sleep; so I was half asleep, half awake, totally aggravated. Then I ‘heard’: “Would you like to have these sharp things I keep between the pads of my feet?” I thought, groggily, “Aren’t those usually called ‘claws’, and what would I do with claws? I’m a human.”
To the extent that I was coherent at all, I was mostly distracted by the climate control issue. I lay in bed being annoyed that I was hot and awake. I peeled off a blanket and sighed. I turned my foggy attention to the message. Did I really hear that? What time is it, anyway? Checked the clock: 0301. The clock face had a clarifying effect. Lucid thought struggled to climb from the murk. “I just ‘heard’ something. At 0300. And it was about ‘claws’. Very interesting. And it makes no sense.”
The message presented what has become a hallmark style for these sleep-related events: words put together in such a way that grab my attention because of the phrasing – phrasing that I’d never come up with on my own. That dynamic absolutely makes me feel like I’m being spoken too, rather than believing I’ve conjured the words with my own brain. In the case of the Sunday AM voice, the simple thing would have been for said voice to ask, “Do you want my claws?” Assuming, of course that there’s some legitimate reason an unidentified speaker, discernible only to the spirit of a sleepy/sleeping person, would have for asking said person if they wanted claws. We are officially too far down the rabbit hole to overthink such details as those anymore. Anyway, the voice didn’t ask me if I wanted to “have claws.” It was asking if I want his/her/its sharp things that he/she/it keeps between the pads of his/her/its feet. Curious phrasing that immediately demands attention. At 0300.
But who or what that has claws would be asking me? And why? Dogs have claws…cats have claws…wicked claws. Allow myself to fast-forward to the end of that thought process: in context of all that has happened in the past few years, one plausible explanation is that the Lion of Judah was doing the asking. That’s where I ended up at about 0303. Is the really dry way to put it. “The voice at 0300, using that remarkable phrasing, asked in a roundabout way if I’d like his claws. All things considered, it was probably Jesus.” Riiight. Right?
I pondered the possibility that Jesus was asking me if I wanted some martial capacity of His, for use in presumed future and radical spiritual warfare. I had never heard of such a thing as what had apparently just happened in Random Dallas Apartment. I cried, like I cried when I realized that Long Island is actually really big and has a lot of people on it. Which is annoying to admit. But I had no recourse but to feel utterly miniscule and unworthy, again. I told Him so and apologized for being such a prideful screw-up for much of my life. Which was a redundant confession, as I’ve already covered that ground with Him/Them before. But this was different, because it appeared that the speaker was actually Jesus, and not ‘just’ God or Holy Spirit, or whomever I’d attributed previous messages to.
Through much of my adult life, I’ve taken many approaches to the Son of Man: I’ve worshiped Him; asked Him if it’s OK to pray to Him directly; made a mockery of His sacrifice; endeavored to learn who He is versus who I’d erroneously perceived Him to be; and a host of other ‘things’, the likes of which I can’t think of a better word to describe right now, other than ‘things.’ And there I lay, thinking He had just spoken to me directly. I strained to remember the quote from Isaiah or Peter (I think it’s both) or whichever Biblical luminary was ashamed of his entire self at being confronted with maximum holiness.
And how would I ever know if I ‘had’ His claws, anyway? What would that look like in terms of day-to-day functionality? What would I be able to do then that I cannot do now? These were the questions that I asked Him. At around 0310 I grasped that the message had indeed been a question or invitation, and not a statement of fact or directive like previous messages dropped into sleep time. “Do you want these sharp things I keep in the
pads of my feet?” Of course I do. I guess. But what in the world would I do with them? And could I handle it? I reasonably believe myself to be untrustworthy with power beyond a certain point. I assumed that receiving personal armaments from the Lion of Judah Himself, at His invitation, would straightaway launch me light years beyond that point. “Yes. I want them. But only if You’ll show me when and how to use them.” It’s foolish to
think I’d be anything but a titanic menace otherwise.
And that’s how I woke up last Sunday morning.
As with so much else of this nature, it’s a matter of ‘wait and see.’ Always waiting. (Do you relate?) While waiting to see, these are the terms in which I’ll view the whole thing:
– If the voice was from my own brain, then nothing will come of this episode.
– If I was really hearing a voice speaking to me, then it was either a good voice or a bad voice.
– If it was a righteous voice, then the Lion of Judah is the presumed speaker. Who knows what that will look like down the line.
– If it was a diabolic agent speaking to me, then the whole thing is moot. There’s nothing to do but consider it a distraction.