Any other night it would have been a nightmare, a heart-pounding, sweat-producing, knocking-me-upright-from-a-dead-sleep nightmare. But not these days. Perhaps all the nights this winter have been heading to this one night and all the dreams leading to this one. Not a pleasant dream but a real one, and a dream from which I awakened and knew God wanted me to pray for those who'd inhabited that dream every bit as much as He'd been pressing me to pray for all those who'd inhabited all the other 'easy' dreams before it. Maybe He was saying, "For such a time as this, I've also called you to pray."
Because here's my dream:
I was in a farmhouse deep in the woods near Sochi with some women. And I was helping them pack their back-packs. Yes, helping them pack them terrible things (they looked like batteries, but weren't) that would do terrible things to athletes and coaches and spectators. But what I was doing was protecting those devices from becoming the destructive objects they were meant to become. What I was wrapping them in was some kind of towel these women couldn't even see, but I knew was there. And it was meant to save not only the victims but the carriers of the back-packs. These women also needed saving from this terrible act.
That's what got to me when I awakened.
I don't know what lies ahead in the days of the Olympics. I really don't. I only know that God has put on my heart that I am to pray for all those who might seek to do harm there. The enemy prowls. We know this. And God has put on my heart that he will be at large during the games. The games. The wonderful two weeks when countries put aside different ideologies and play--this is a moment when the enemy will be at large. And God wants me (and maybe you?) to be praying...
May HE intervene, be the protector. And BE glorified.