The Heartland Journals: A Fictional Account of the Journey of Sanctification

0712162000aEntry #2:  The Players

The dreams continue. The arrows fly at me nightly from an invisible enemy. Tonight I find myself beside a stream flowing through a grove of maple trees. I can see faint, foggy outlines of a mountain range through the trees. Across the stream two forms suddenly emerge together, yet separately, as if they have timed their entrance perfectly.

I’ve never seen anyone else here before so I am immediately on edge. I’ve often imagined that others must be in this place, and I have certainly sensed the presence of something evil. But this is different.

The fog dissipates and I step closer to the stream to study them. As I move forward, the stream unexpectedly broadens and changes. To my left, the stream forcefully tumbles over rocks, creating rapids, and looking altogether impassible. Behind, fog curling away from him, is a bronzed man dressed in garments of pure, piercing light. His features are blurred, except his eyes, which are a mixture of the deepest of colors and blazing a halo of light. He emits power, strength, and danger. Nearly everything in me wants to back away from his direct, questioning gaze.

I close my eyes and turn my eyes to the other form. He is much easier to look at, friendlier, even handsome and smiling. He’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He stares at me with beautiful, intense, alluring dark eyes. At first glance, he seems the type of guy a mother would love for her daughter to bring home. The stream in front of him flows at a leisurely pace, peaceful and smooth.

Without either saying a word, I know they have both extended an invitation to walk with them in this land. And I likewise know that I cannot walk with both. It’s either one or the other. There is no compromising, no working together. I stand for what is probably only minutes, contrasting the two. One light and dangerous, the other dark and safe. One unknown, the other familiar and beckoning.

They both have their eyes on me and I get the feeling that they know all about me, and this land. The question is, of course, which one can I trust to lead me through? Which will keep the enemy at bay, the evil far from me? Every instinct in me is leaning toward the second one, the one who looks like a model. And I realize that that’s just it—he seems too perfect. The first is an utter mystery, but I feel with some weird sixth sense, truth is in him. And isn’t truth what I am ultimately seeking, especially here in this strange place that lingers beyond the coming of day?


How do you visualize the players in your own Heartland? Is your Christ a bit dangerous or have you watered Him down over the years? Remember, according to Narnia, He is not a tame lion.  

2 thoughts on “The Heartland Journals: A Fictional Account of the Journey of Sanctification

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *