That Friday in 2009 started like any other. Over the past several months, I’d developed a routine. I’d stay in my darkened bedroom as long as possible. When I gathered up
enough energy, I’d scan the classifieds for jobs. There were none. Then I’d sit immobile for hours, staring at the wall, consumed by anxiety. Most days, that’s as far as I got. Walking to the mailbox took all of my energy—when I could force myself to do it. The yard went unmowed. I rarely took out the trash.
The fog of depression had begun to descend in late 2008. When the economy failed, so did my business. My media company tanked almost overnight, taking with it every
penny I’d saved. Then my wife filed for divorce. It had been a long time coming, but I was still devastated. Everything had converged like a multicar pileup on the highway. In
just a few weeks, I’d gone from a respected communications entrepreneur and married man to an unemployed divorcé, drifting along without direction or purpose.
Now, six months after my divorce, I’d reached rock bottom. I hadn’t been able to find any work since shuttering my business. I was hopeless, and I was down on myself. God seemed to be teaching me a harsh lesson for every mistake I had ever made. Showing me that I should’ve been a better husband, a better businessman—a better man. How could he possibly love a man like me? Sometimes the cruel thoughts became so overpowering that I would consider the ways I could leave this earth altogether and, maybe, kill the pain. Sleep had become the best escape from my torment, and it didn’t come often. However, that Friday, I was exhausted by the afternoon. I lay down in bed and closed my eyes. Unusually peaceful, with no tossing or turning, I drifted off.
What happened next wasn’t a dream.
I was in another realm—unearthly but calming. I found myself in a man’s arms. He was seated on a big rock, holding me as if I were a child. There was no verbal exchange, for
none was necessary. We were completely at peace together. He rocked me gently and stroked my arm. I’d never felt so content.
Finally, some rest, I thought. It felt so good to not be sad. Then there was an abrupt but calming revelation. It’s Jesus. This man is Jesus.
There was no time, space or dimension to this place. My focus shifted as Jesus reached down to the ground and picked up a large, flat object. I recognized it as a piece of natural slate, one that might be written on with a stick of chalk.
With his palm and forearm, Jesus reached to one side of the slate and made a slow, smooth, purposeful motion across it, as if he were wiping it clean. Still, no words, just complete tranquility. I understood.
A clean slate. Forgiven.
All the cruel thoughts I had had about myself. All the shame I had felt over my failed business, the debts that remained to be paid. All of my shortcomings that had led to the failure of my marriage. None of it made me less redeemable in the eyes of God. I could leave the weight of the past behind and start anew.
I’d lost sight of that truth, but here it was, presented to me with utter clarity.
I woke up. And while the image of Jesus faded, the feeling didn’t. I was at peace, a peace I’d never before experienced. It was as if something inside me—something that had been cracked and broken—had been repaired.
Although my circumstances didn’t change overnight, my outlook on life did. The depression eased. Over time, as I contemplated the experience, the boulder of shame was lifted from my shoulders. I reclaimed my identity and sense of purpose in life. I forged a new path in my career and repaid my debts.
It took me five years to tell anyone about what I had experienced in my dream that Friday afternoon. It had been so genuine and so authentic that I felt it might be diminished if I shared it. I didn’t know how I could find the words—they all seemed so inadequate. So it took even longer to put the experience down on paper. Even if I’m not able to completely describe what happened, mine is a story that must be shared. Because it’s a reminder that God loves us unconditionally—even when we aren’t able to love ourselves.
