She stood outside a whitewashed wooden door, in a building made of stucco. She was filled with hope and fear. Inside the room, she knew, were Jesus and his disciples. She wanted to meet Him so very, very much. But she wasn’t from that area, or even from that country. She couldn’t speak or understand the languages spoken there.

But she knew she would be able to understand Him and He, her.

She knocked gently on the door and it moved slightly, for it hadn’t been latched properly. She held her breath, and waited.

The door was shut.

She started to cry, and whispered, “Please don’t shut me out.”

A moment later the door opened enough for her to enter. She did, and moved to her right to allow it to be shut again. She stood against the wall, looking down, for she did not dare look at Him. She didn’t feel worthy to do so.

She could hear quiet murmuring, then silence. A few moments later, a pair of sandaled feet came into her sight. She could also see the hem of cream-colored robe. She knew it was Him, but she didn’t dare look up.

Then she felt His hand touch her left temple. When it was removed, she knew she would be able to understand everything that was said, and speak the language. Filled with humility, joy and gratitude, she started to look up at Him to thank Him. . . . . . . .

This is an actual dream I had several years ago. Unfortunately my clock radio went off at this point, so thereis no more. I have always been a Christian (although I tried to be an agnostic in my twenties. But God said to me, “Yeah. Right. You know – and I know you know – that I exist, so stop pretending.” So I did.), but this was a wake up call for me. I began my new journey to Him by reading the Bible cover to cover, then writings of people whose faith is even stronger than mine. I find that I am now beyond “I believe”, but not quite to “I know”. So my search for Him continues.

May your search bear fruit in your life. God bless you.