Arise, Take Up Pen and Write

[It is 1:30am and I just awoke from the most powerful and joyous dream and heard a voice in my heart telling me to rise, take up pen and write, do not delay… so I grabbed my iPad out of my backpack, moved into the living room to avoid disturbing my beloved and began to write out what I had dreamed before it faded away:]

I was in an auditorium with thousands upon thousands, we were processing in together.

The stage was all arrayed for worship. On the left side where I was processing in it was arranged for the western liturgy… the Novis Ordo mass perhaps but much more intricate, more like the Latin mass, but in English… Maybe the Tridentine Mass in English, which I’ve actually participated in before. But there was so much excitement and anticipation in the air.

A Priest came in in a simple brown cassock and he was carrying a huge loaf of flatbread and there were people censing with incense around him and he looked up and saw me because I was near — we know each other somehow (he reminds me of Fr. Boniface Hicks) and he smiled so wide and I smiled back and we whispered in hushed tones “Can you believe this is happening!?!”

At that moment I realized that the right side of the auditorium (or was it an an enclosed stadium?) was fully decked out for the Eastern Rite Divine Liturgy and the stage in front of that side was set up for the concurrent celebration of that liturgy.

And then behold, I realized it was NOT the Eastern Rite Roman Catholics that were worshipping there but dearly beloved Eastern Orthodox priests were there along with many of their Bishops and lay faithful. I recognize some of them from my own home town congregations.

I realize that I am in a concurrent western rite mass and eastern rite divine liturgy and everyone is so excited and happy. The joy in the air is palpable.

And then all is quiet and worship has begun.

It begins with the Eastern Rites leading the intercessory prayers with all the “Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy’s” in English, Arabic, Greek and various languages and everyone participating joyfully on both sides in chant just like we have done at Orthodox Churches in Grand Rapids.

Then I am sitting in a section of the stadium and my guitar is in my hands and it is so quiet and I play a D chord and know that we are to sing a Psalm in the typical Western rite order where a refrain is sung and then the verses are chanted in between the refrains… and I am leading it from my seat and somehow the thousands of people there can hear me and other instruments join in to my simple key of D chord progressions… someone is saying loudly a few rows away “D! D! D!” And I’m thinking to myself “no that isn’t the next chord”.. but then I realize he’s instructing others of the key we are singing in, not the next chord to be played.

And then I notice that I am in among a mix of many clergy in full regalia, I am in my humble clothing and nobody cares, it is all good.

And then the liturgy has progressed into the time for the Holy Eucharist to be fed to the faithful and we are all going forward to receive. And I see my friend Kurt Unangst in line going down on his knees in his green clerical robes to receive communion, but it is from a spoon like the Eastern Rites does and he looks and sees me and his face is shining with joy and wonder.

I too go forward and receive the Body and Blood of our Lord in Holy Communion and then as I’m returning I notice the black rought-iron railing is being covered with beautifully woven red silken coverlets by a local group of Baptist brothers who though they are not going forward for communion are there to support us and gift us with these beautiful coverings for the stair railings. They are happy to be there and get caught up in our joy.

And then there is commotion off to the right side beyond the Eastern Rites’ assembly area and I realize it is open to the outdoors somehow and I can hear drums and see banners in procession beyond the crowd, colorful banners and flags of red and white coming towards us.

Joy erupts from the crowded worshipers and shouts of “The Marians are coming!!! The Marians are coming!!!” Are repeated all around me and many are rushing to greet the latecomers to worship and joyfully embrace them.

And my own beloved Margie breaks out from behind me and runs forward yelling with the rest of them! And I say to her “I knew it! I just knew it!! Father told me they would come!” And she keeps running and without looking back says “you didn’t have to tell me that” [I was just showing off with my knowledge, after all] and she keeps running ahead to welcome them with the rest, leaping with joy.

And then the scene changes.

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I am now a man with a withered hand. I can see my hand at the front of my right arm and it is dangling almost detached and utterly useless. And I am somewhere perhaps in Ireland or England on an ancient cobblestone road leading up a hill and I am walking up toward a temple and someone is narrating in old Gaelic? About this road and the temple. I come into this temple and there is a pantheon, a collection of various deities to go to and I go to one of them and I start praying for healing and I am miserable and in rags.

In my prayers I am leaning on stone steps, old and dirty steps stained with blood and who knows what else and I am there face down on them praying and behold! My hand has been fully restored and I am bursting out loud with the words that are flooding my heart with joy “It is Jesus that has healed you! It is Jesus that has healed you!”

But I don’t know of this Jesus and I ask the attendants at the temple to lead me to the shrine of Jesus and they are flummoxed and wander around consulting one another of such a deity and they are becoming agitated and a man whom I somehow recognize as a friend takes me by the hand and says, “You must flee from here at once for they will chase you down and harm you if you do not leave… come with me I know a back way out through the priests’ area” and he leads me out and I’m running through parking lots? Where people are already fanning out seeking the stranger that was healed by some unknown and forbidden deity for they want to detain me, but they don’t know… they haven’t been given a good description of me and I escape into the fields beyond and I am free.



[This is all I can remember of my dream. I have done my best to write it down as I was instructed. Perhaps my beloved will help me process it more in the morning. It is 2:11 am, Sunday, September 28, 2025. We are heading to Ludington in about 4 hours to catch the Badger (car ferry) to Manitowoc, Wisconson. We’ll have some time to chat about it then perhaps.]