Who Is This Man?

I have this vision that keeps recurring.  I’m not sure if it’s a daydream or one that happens in my sleep, but the picture is clear.  Everything but his face.

It happens in one of two places.

In the first version, I am lying in bed in a hospital room.  I am wearing a hospital gown, my eyelids are heavy, my body is tired, and I look like I have been through it.  The situation is not life threatening, but I am in a vulnerable place, and I need help.

In the second version, I am in a room backstage at a venue, often known as ‘the green room’, preparing to speak publicly.  I am dressed immaculately, with my eyelashes and my notes detailed in precision.  I am prepared and ready to step out onto a stage, but there is a problem.  Anxiety hits, I am in a vulnerable place, and I need help.

In both scenarios, a man comes to me.  In the hospital, he comes to the head of the bed and turns my face toward him.  In the green room, he kneels before he and holds my hands.

In both scenarios, he makes deep, intense eye contact with me.  He says to me, so gently, “Hey, hey… hey.  It’s okay, beautiful girl.  Look at me. Tricia, look at me.”

In the hospital, my eyes fall closed in exhaustion.  In the green room, my eyes close tightly in panic.  He talks to me gently, inviting me to look at him.

“Tricia?  Look at me.  There you go.  See?  See me?  I’m right here, and you can do this.  I’m right here.”

In the hospital bed, his hand holds my jaw line, his thumb reaching up to my ear and his fingers resting on my neck. stroking my hair behind my ear, never breaking eye contact.

In the green room, he kneels before me, he holds my chin, sweeps my bangs off my forehead, and breathes deeply with me, never breaking eye contact.

Neither scene is sexual, but each one is deeply sensual and intimate.  The man’s face isn’t clear to me.  I can’t see it.  Every time I emerge from this dream, I have a deep sense of safety, security, and cherished love.  And I want to live in that space.

Who is this man?

Clearly, he is someone I trust, implicitly.  He is someone whose face so close to mine is empowering, encouraging, and peaceful.  He loves me in a beautiful, consuming way, and in the dream, I can feel the power in such devotion.

I think the dream is the promise of the love that waits for me in the heart of a man who doesn’t even know yet.  One who will sit closely, keep eye contact, hold me, help me, love me.

But I’m also wondering if the dream is the awakening of the love that is mine, even now.

Gary Thomas writes,

“Since the Bible teaches us that Jesus ascended in a body and will return in a body (see Acts 1:9-11) and that Jesus now reigns in a body, it’s fair to infer that real children are sitting in a real lap (providing hope for those who have lost young loved ones).  Shamed and hurting men receive an affirming and masculine hug.  Women formerly abused, neglected, or forsaken have their cheeks touched with a selfless, nurturing, 100 percent pure hand.”

This.  This is my God.  Perhaps he is the one who kneels at my side, holds my face in his hands, quiets me with his voice in this dream that unfolds again and again.

Maybe the story is of the man I will marry; I hope so.  Maybe I will know those hands and that voice someday.  Maybe someday soon.  The idea of such love makes me long for him, ache for him right now.

Maybe the story is of the Lord to whom I am betrothed; I hope so.  Maybe I know those hands that hold me and the voice that quiets my heart.  The idea of such love brings Jesus alive to me.

He whispers to me.  “Hey, hey… hey, beautiful girl.  I’m here.  And you can do this.”