The Price of Peace

Today's story doesn't come from the Bible. Yet, it is true, if one can consider dreams "true".

Years ago, shortly after we moved to the house we are in now, I had a dream. It was similar to dreams I had had before. Yet, this one affected me differently.

You see, I grew up in a culture without TV, or movies. I read books about real people and historical events. Corrie ten Boom was as familiar a name to me as Cinderella might be to other children. When other children were having nightmares about boogeymen and space aliens, I had nightmares based on what I had been filling my mind with: stories of persecution and war.

I understood early on that history repeats itself, and the importance of standing up for what is right and good. Although I didn't have many opportunities to actually stand up for anything, since my life was so sheltered.

Our culture taught pacifism. 

Personally, I embraced the goal of PEACE.

Peace is a beautiful thing: an important goal in this chaotic and busy world. "As much as possible, live at peace with all men." (Romans 12:18)  kind of ended up being my life goal. Of course, I often failed miserably, but peace was what I strove for.

Then, one night I had a dream. 

IT had come. The time we knew would eventually come, even to our quiet, rural neighborhood. The "bad guys", whoever they were (my dream didn't tell me) were rounding people up. People who were considered, "troublemakers".  I'm not sure why we were called: troublemakers, but most of my friends and family landed in that category.

I said nothing.

I continued on as if things were the same as one by one my friends and family were taken away. Doing what I could to subtly help, to stall the inevitable, but there really wasn't anything I could do to stop this.

One day they came for me. 

My neighbors and acquaintances assured the bad guys that I was no threat. I kept to myself and didn't make waves. I was nice to everyone. 

I was allowed to stay.

I watched the bad guys leave with the last of my people.

I smiled at my neighbors, but inside I was not happy.

I wanted to chase after the huge, armored trucks and shout, "TAKE ME TOO!".

But I stayed quiet. 

The rest of my life would be spent pretending to be someone I wasn't so that I could stay alive.

FOR WHAT?!

Was life so valuable that I would live a lie, alone?! 

One beautiful day, (in my dream world) I was with a group of people. Maybe we were in a neighbor's living room. They were smiling and happy. I smiled too and chatted with them, weighing my words so I wouldn't offend. -so, I wouldn't make waves. Ignoring comments that cut me inside. Not agreeing. Not disagreeing. Just being nice. 

Never again would I have a deep conversation with someone close to me about things that really mattered. No one left would understand. 

I went back to my home. So alone. 

Fed physically yet starving spiritually.

I woke up wishing I had made some waves. -wishing I had shouted the truth from the housetops. Somehow, sweet fellowship in a prison camp sounded more appealing than this life I had chosen by being nice. 

I told myself that, in time, I would find new friends, other people who would love the light and LIFE! Maybe I could bring peace yet. Maybe some of my acquaintances would change their opinion in favor of the truth.

I hid the truth carefully, hoping that someday someone would ask, and I would be able to tell them. But no one wanted to know.  They didn't care. They were proud of me for not making waves. But I wasn't proud of myself. 

I felt sick. I was worse than the "bad guys". At least they didn't hide who they were. People respected the confident, terrible ones. 

Was it respect I wanted? maybe. 

I thought it was freedom, but I had a sort of freedom. My needs were all met, and I could come and go freely. In my quiet home I could say whatever I wanted. No gates or bars kept me in, yet I was not free. 

I had that dream maybe 15- 20 years ago. But, unlike nightmares of being on the run, or hiding people in my closet, this one affected me. In fact, part of the reason I started this blog is because of that dream. I think, at first, I reacted by making too many waves and in the process offended and hurt people.  But my goal is to encourage everyone to speak the truth, in love, without fear.

I have a hard time believing that "bad guys" will come up our mountain road and start rounding people up. That would be a very extreme situation. But many situations have come up since then when I was gently reminded of that dream, and sometimes, I spoke the truth even if it might make waves.