I had a strange dream last night.
I dreamt I went into a church that has no walls. Literally, no walls. No joke. As there were no doors, I walked in at any point I fancied.
In the dream, I recalled I stood marvelling at a church that has no door signs telling you where the entrances and exits were. They are in fact everywhere in a church that has no walls. You are thus free to enter and exit whenever and wherever you like.
Another strange thing is this: as I stepped into the church, everyone is transparent. Yes, you heard me right. There was nothing to hide. You can’t hide anything. You didn’t need to.
And in case you’re wondering, no, they‘re not in their baby suits. They are just open, vulnerable, most times, broken.
You can read them the same way you read a book, but with one difference: the embellished cover is the last thing you will see about them. It’s their written story that is displayed for all to read or see, and nothing else.
So, you can’t just judge them by the cover. By first glance. By their dressing. By a convenient stereotype. By a rule of thumb. There is just no cover to speak of in the first place. In fact, the cover is their whole story; at least the part that tells the story you are free to read.
And you can’t hurry it. The reading and understanding takes time. An encounter is not just an exchange of pleasantries, but an exchange of experiences - intimate and personal ones.
And you can’t help it too, because every encounter draws you in. It’s difficult to resist. You can‘t say hi-and-bye just like that. You will be immediately drawn in by their life’s story.
You will come to know their pain, their joy, their tears and their hopes. You will come to know what they have been through, where they are now, the struggles they are in, and for many, the little victories they had won along the way.
Their journey may not be complete, but at least you will get to know what made them who they are and why they are who they are.
In other words, their lives thus far regardless of age are their stories, an open book, and you get to read the most intimate part of it. They have left nothing important in their lives unsaid so that you would know them not superficially, but in depth, in detail, and in context.
There is therefore no room for second guessing, pigeonholing or stereotyping. No room for unwarranted judgment and baseless gossiping. You will be compelled to see them as a whole, not just a snapshot, a fractured fraction; not just a shadow of the real person.
To be honest, at this part of my dream, I teared. I could feel a drop or two rolling down my cheek because every story of the people I meet in this peculiar church with no walls were heart breaking and heart moving at the same time.
I read about their cries at night, all alone by themselves. I read about their struggles for identity, for attention, for parental approval, even those who were parents themselves, and for hope in the midst of a loveless marriage, a broken sibling relationship, and a tormenting voice urging them to end it all.
At the same time, I experienced a surge in my spirit when I read about how many of them overcame their own circumstances.
I also read about how they found joy in the midst of pain, how they persevered in hope in the midst of disappointments, and how they were transformed to be wounded healers in a community of wounded souls they have come to identify with and were determined to overcome together as a family.
In my dream within a dream, I saw the image of many in pitch darkness for a terrifying moment, and then one precarious candle lit up at a far corner. That took great courage, but it was hardly visible. It was still vulnerable. It risks being snuff out at a moment’s breath. Yet, it floated hope, even if it was a whit, a speck.
Before long, the candle’s light and warmth was passed on. From one to two to four to ten. The light brightened, the warmth deepened, the reservoir of hope rose.
Soon, what was pitch darkness could not contain the rich brightness. Gradually, darkness gave way to light, and for me, what unfolded was a community of enduring love and faith as the last candle received the light that burnt ever so brightly in a place that was once invisible to all.
Alas, this is a church with no walls. But I did not mingle long as I came to a sudden awakening. I opened my eyes and knew it was a dream.
And like all dreams, it is not reality, at least not yet?
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