Of dreams and visions

I dream a lot. I remember years ago sitting on a busy bus, closing my eyes for “just a moment,” and then dreaming about a man walking up to a field, trying to open the gate but finding he couldn’t do it. Another man came up behind him and pushed it open with one hand.

Dreams and visions are profound ways God has chosen to reveal Himself to His people. They are not fleeting imaginings but direct, often startling encounters that call for a response. Throughout Scripture, these are depicted as divine moments with lasting impact—not random mental images but purposeful, heart-stirring experiences where God’s presence breaks into human reality. The prophet Joel speaks with urgency about dreams and visions, saying that “your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions” (Joel 2:28, ESV). This is not a suggestion, nor a distant hope; it is a promise of God’s Spirit moving in His people with transforming power. It is language God often uses with prophets, and now Joel is saying God will communicate with His people through prophecy, dreams, and visions—a fantastic triad of revelation! There’s no “fluffiness” about these encounters—they are not mere moments of imagination.

Consider Peter’s rooftop vision in Acts 10. As he prays, the same Peter who once walked on water with Jesus, who denied Him three times, is given a vision that challenges every cultural and religious fibre of his being: a sheet of unclean animals is lowered with a command to “Rise, Peter; kill and eat” (Acts 10:13, ESV). This was no symbolic story meant to inspire; it was a consequential encounter with God that dismantled long-held beliefs and paved the way for the Gentile mission, revolutionising the early Church. It was an “earthquake” moment! Such visions are not simply extras or tokens in the believer’s life but pivotal moments that redirect and reshape the Church and its mission.

But why do these kinds of profound encounters sometimes seem elusive today? Perhaps we are more likely to experience them if we are aware of them, but they remain at God’s initiative. Why don’t we see more of this holy interruption in our lives? It may be that we have drifted into viewing visions as optional—a matter of “take it or leave it” inspiration rather than the life-shifting phenomenon they truly are. Once you have seen a vision, you can’t unsee it. We play too loosely with the words “dreams and visions.” “I have a dream” is about aspiration, while “I had a dream” conveys what God has revealed. Sometimes we become distracted, focusing on lesser things or expecting God to speak only in comfortable, bite-sized images.

While it’s a joy to receive pictures or impressions during prayer—and we welcome them—there’s also a place to hunger for more, knowing that there is more. God still speaks in visions that shake us to our core, that challenge us, and that draw us deeper into His purposes.

Interestingly, as we examine Scripture, we see that dreams and visions are almost always spontaneous. They happen at God’s initiation, not because people pray for them. Abraham, Jacob, Daniel, Peter—all were surprised by their encounters. There’s no instance of anyone praying specifically for a vision or dream, though people certainly desired to hear from God. Dreams and visions come as gifts of His sovereignty and grace, shaping us in ways we couldn’t orchestrate ourselves. They change us, renew us, and encourage us. While we cannot “make” visions happen, we can cultivate a heart that’s ready to receive them when they do.

We must be wise and discerning in interpreting these experiences; not every vision is self-explanatory, and dreams often need interpretation—sometimes through the help of others gifted in discernment. Joseph’s dreams of his family bowing to him, for instance, held layers of meaning that took years to unfold (Genesis 37). The same goes for Daniel’s visions, which he sometimes struggled to understand (Daniel 8). A mature understanding built over the years helps us navigate the ambiguity that can accompany these revelations, recognising that some are literal while others are symbolic. Patience, humility, and community play significant roles here, as we seek to understand God’s purpose in what He has shown us rather than forcing our interpretations onto His message.

In all of this, may we remember that God delights in revealing Himself to us, sometimes gently and sometimes with the intensity of a blazing fire. The brilliant news for us is that visions and dreams are not distant relics of a primitive faith; they are as available and vital to the Church today as they were for early believers. Perhaps it’s time to seek a resurgence, a renewed openness to encounter God in these ways—not for novelty, but for the genuine transformation they bring.

Let’s be open to every glimpse of God that comes our way, whether it’s a faint impression, a simple picture, or a life-altering vision. We can be thankful for the “small things” He gives and still long for more, trusting that our God remains the same: a God who reveals, who guides, and who still transforms through His Spirit. Dreams, visions, whispers, or any other divine phenomena—may we be ready to receive whatever He chooses to give, waiting on the One who “will pour out [His] Spirit on all flesh” (Joel 2:28, ESV).

Let’s  honour His sovereignty, embrace intimacy with Him, and open ourselves to His divine surprises and purposes.

Jonah & Noah – grace upon grace

Jonah

JonahJonah, Noah, and the Heart of God’s Grace

Most people have read or heard the stories of Jonah and Noah—both of whom share a common element: water, and a lot of it! Beyond that, however, their stories diverge: one will get wet, while the other endures the close quarters and smells of countless animals.

Jonah and Noah are unforgettable. These two men, separated by centuries, each find themselves swept into life-changing encounters with God on storm-tossed waters. Noah, the quiet builder, labours under the sun for years, obeying without question (Genesis 6:9–22). Jonah, by contrast, flees with all his might, running from a mercy he doesn’t want to extend to those he deems unworthy (Jonah 1:1–3).

At first glance, they couldn’t be more different. But look closer: both men are enclosed, held, and transformed by God amidst chaos, each revealing something of His relentless mercy. We, too, can find ourselves mirrored in their stories. Through Noah’s ark and Jonah’s rather large fish, God holds up a reflection of our own faithfulness—and our resistance—showing how He remains unyielding in His compassion, even when our faith falters.

Noah: The Obedience of Faith

Noah’s story gives us the picture of a man bent over planks under a burning sky, hands rough and calloused from years of shaping wood, driven by God’s word that the world will drown. His neighbours likely laugh, scoff, and roll their eyes as he builds a “ship” on dry land. Each nail he hammers is an act of faith—even though he’s never seen rain of such magnitude, he believes in a God whose promises will flood the earth. His ark becomes more than a vessel; it is a sanctuary for him and his family, a tangible promise of God’s unbreakable word (Genesis 6:13–16).

When the rains finally fall, Noah and his family sit in the ark’s dark belly, now vindicated, listening to the relentless downpour and crashing waves (Genesis 7:11–16). Here, God’s mercy isn’t in escaping the flood, but in the shelter He provides through it. Despite the cramped quarters and animal smells, the ark is an imperfect yet vital refuge. In that damp, confined space, Noah and his family experience God’s mercy holding firm and true, even when it doesn’t look as they might have expected. The ark becomes a solid reminder that God’s grace is powerful enough to carry us—even through the darkest storms.

Jonah: The Reluctant Rebel

Then there’s Jonah, who doesn’t want to be part of God’s plan and goes AWOL. God calls him to preach to Nineveh, but Jonah, hardly a model of obedience, runs in the opposite direction, fleeing not just the city but from God’s compassion itself (Jonah 1:2–3). He boards a ship bound far from Nineveh, perhaps breathing a sigh of relief as the shoreline fades, but his peace doesn’t last. God sends a violent storm that shakes the ship, filling the sailors with panic and fear for their lives, while Jonah sleeps below, untouched by the turmoil above—until his security is dismantled (Jonah 1:4). In a desperate act, the sailors throw him overboard, and he plunges into the icy, chaotic waters—an unexpected blessing for the sailors! (Jonah 1:15–16)

Swallowed by a massive fish, Jonah finds himself in complete darkness, alone with the realisation that God’s mercy isn’t so easy to escape. Here, in this strange refuge, he is caught by grace—a grace he fought against but cannot resist (Jonah 1:17). Considering his deliberate disobedience, this grace is astonishing, unearned, and undeserved. In the belly of the fish for three days, Jonah wrestles with his heart’s resistance, facing a mercy greater than his own opinions—a grace that doesn’t let him choose who deserves it (Jonah 2:1–2). This unlikely “ark” forces Jonah into surrender, where he realises that God’s compassion extends not only to Nineveh but even to him in his disobedience. Yet, like many of us, Jonah’s encounter with grace doesn’t mean he’s finished struggling.

One God, Two Waters, Unyielding Compassion

Both Noah and Jonah encounter God’s mercy amid chaos, but neither is left to drown. Instead, God brings them to places of unusual safety within the very waters that threaten to consume them. For Noah, the ark is a sanctuary preserving life itself, a tangible promise that God will not abandon His people to destruction. For Jonah, the fish is a place of dark reflection, where he learns that God’s mercy is not his to ration—even though he still falls short, almost willing the Ninevites to perish.

These stories aren’t merely about Noah’s obedience or Jonah’s surrender; they’re about the God who holds both men in their frailty and failure—and who also holds you and me. The children’s song, “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands,” is true! Jesus prophetically points back to Jonah’s trauma in Matthew 12:40, saying that Jonah’s three days in the fish foreshadow His own death and resurrection: “For just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.” Anticipating the gospel, in Christ, God’s compassion takes on flesh, entering humanity’s chaos to provide refuge for all who seek Him. Jesus’ descent mirrors Jonah’s, yet instead of resisting, He fully embraces His mission, becoming both our ark and redeemer, offering a refuge that Jonah’s fish and Noah’s ark could only symbolise.

Finding Our Place: Between Faith and Resistance

Both stories find us in our own struggles: sometimes, we’re more like Noah, stepping out in faith, quietly building according to God’s call, even if we’re unsure how it will unfold. Life’s circumstances may feel overwhelming, or we may be pushing forward in obedience, trusting God’s promises even as others doubt. In these times, we can be sure that God is asking us to build, to trust, and to hold onto the assurance that His promises will sustain us, however imperfect our understanding.

At other times, we’re more like Jonah—avoiding, questioning, or even running from what we sense God asking of us. Maybe it’s a call to love those who test our patience or to forgive when we’d rather cling to resentment. Jonah reminds us that God’s mercy meets us even there, often in unexpected and improbable ways, showing us that we don’t get to decide who receives God’s compassion. His grace pursues, encloses, and transforms us, even in reluctant obedience.

Living Out the Gospel Through Every Wave

These ancient stories open a fresh understanding of grace. In Jesus, we have not only the fulfilment of Noah’s and Jonah’s stories but also the living promise that God’s presence holds us through every storm. As we walk out our faith, our obedience and resistance are woven into the larger present-day story of a God who does not abandon us in chaos but draws, welcomes, compels, and invites us into His purposes with unfailing love.

Wherever life takes us, God’s mercy surrounds us. Jesus offers a grace that does not fail but sustains, calling us forward even when we’d rather run the other way.

It’s a reminder that we don’t need to understand every wave or fear every storm, for we are held by a Saviour whose grace is greater than our doubts and who leads us through every dark water into His marvellous light. We’re in good, strong hands.