The Chair Experiment

Today we are reflecting on the last of Leslie Weatherhead's four dreams that he wrote about in The Transforming Friendship. I hope you have found this series as personally edifying and encouraging as I have as you continue to grow in your own personal encounters with Jesus. 

And, if you're just joining us in this series, feel free to go back and read along with us from the beginning. The introduction to the series is found here. You can read about the other three dreams here, here, and here. 

And now, here's dream #4:

I dreamed again. A girl was living in a small boarding-house in the city. It was not a pleasant life. For one thing it was very, very lonely. For another it was very monotonous. She rose early in the morning, had a frugal breakfast, went to a workroom over a large shop all day, and in the evening returned to her lonely room. She had very few friends, and she was no longer very young. The other people, both in the boarding-house and in the workroom, were uncongenial. 

There were occasions when life seemed just meaningless; after the evening meal, for instance, when it was too early to go to bed, and yet there seemed nothing to do. Many and many a time she had changed her clothes -- putting on the gayest things she had in an effort to make herself feel gay -- and wandered out alone. But beneath the pathetic brightness of her clothing a sad heart ached dismally. She had no money to spare for amusements, and sometimes, when foul men had spoken to her, there had come even the temptation to lose all restraint and embark on a nameless life. When she had left home, life had been filled with high and beautiful ideals, but they had been lost and smothered in the dust of the actual. She had become flippant, superficial, hollow. The deep voices of the soul had been all but stifled. Life had become vulgar and mean and petty.

And yet not wholly so. For in my dream I saw her sitting in her little room with her elbows on the hard dressing-table, her head buried in her hands, and her shoulders shaking with sobs. And, when she loooked up again, her face all stained with tears, Jesus was standing by her side.

At first she stared at Him as though He were a ghost; but soon the quiet voice put her at her ease in a way she only half understood. 'Would you like to tell me all about it?' He said. There flashed through the girl's mind the thought that she would tell Him all about it, that she would pour out her complaint against others -- how badly they treated her in the boarding-house; how they snubbed her in the room at business where she ate her lunch; how her superiors treated her as a machine; how lonely she was; how miserable!

And yet, when she looked into the eyes of Jesus, she felt somehow that He knew all that already, aye, and more; she felt that He knew what she never intended to tell any one -- her secret temptations, and all the blank sorrow of her selfish, vain little life. But the look in Jesus' face did not frighten her. It seemed the only thing that had given her hope in herself for many a weary month. 'Tell me,' she said at last, 'what it is you see?' Very tenderly came His answer: 'I see the possibilities of a glorious womanhood. I see the possibilities of a life dedicated to God.' 'Do you see nothing else?' she questioned; 'nothing of sordidness, of greed, of vanity; of something -- something baser even than that?' 'I see,' He answered, 'far below that, a deep desire for purity, and a hatred of all that is unbeautiful in life.' 'But,' she said, 'I have broken all my resolutions. I have lost my chances. I have lost my ideals. I have lost my faith.' Quietly came the sound of the Beloved Voice, but with a ring of deep assurance: 'The Son of Man came to sek and to save that which was lost.'

It seemed to the girl that He had given her back her youth. For now life seemed suddenly filled with a new and glorious and indomitable hope. It was springtime in her soul. Life had become beautiful and infinitely desirable. Life could never be the same again. Her better self had risen, phoenix-like, above the ashes of the girl who was dead.

And Jesus looked at her with a smile of amazing tenderness. I could not hear, in my dream, all that He said, but as He moved toward the door I heard Him say, 'And you will never be alone again; every day I am with you.' She held the door for Him, and lingered a moment, half hoping that He would speak again or turn round. But he passed out in silence and was gone. Then, very softly, she closed the door.

I don't know how this story can help but move you, as it moves me. It is the capstone of a series of stories about ordinary people who seem to have lost all faith but then recover that faith once they encounter Jesus and realize how much faith he places in them. These are such beautiful pictures, aren't they?

In considering this final dream, what do you notice about this young girl's life that brings discouragement? What does she seem to be looking for?

What do you notice about the way Jesus regards her? What is it that brings her consolation?

In what way does this story touch your own story? What does it teach you of the way Jesus regards you?

We are in the middle of a series of meditations on four dreams Leslie Weatherhead writes about in his book The Transforming Friendship. With each post, we are reading the full text of one of the dreams and then reflecting on what we notice about Jesus and the different individuals interacting with him. With these exercises, we are hoping to grow in our understanding of how Jesus wants to relate to us and how we can relate to him.

(You can read the introduction to this series by clicking here. Also, click here to read the discussion of the first dream and click here to read the discussion of the second dream.)

Let's jump in. Here's dream #3: 

In my third dream I saw a young man who was a univeristy student. He was seated alone in his own small room, with his books on the table before him. He was of magnificent physique, but he was very lonely and his heart was disconsolate. There was almost a haunted look on his face. And as I looked into his mind I saw that it was in a state of war. The good was fighting the evil, and the issue was still uncertain. His room was a symbol of the state of his mind. The walls were covered with vulgar pictures cut from cheap magazines. And yet, on a little shelf away in a corner, was a photograph of his mother. 

I do not remember that I heard the door open, in my dream. I became aware that Jesus was sitting opposite the student in the bare little room. The knowledge came to me as one becomes aware of the light of some lovely dawn amid the baleful glittering lights of some belated orgy. 'You thought of Me,' said the quiet voice which I had learned in my dreams to love, 'and so I am here.'

I knew also that Jesus could see the battle that was raging in the young man's mind. I knew that the fiery temptations of youth, the rash impetuousness, the desire to 'see life,' were battling with an ideal of a clean, manly life. And the look in Jesus' face made me think of those words, 'Jesus looking upon him, loved him.'

Then there came to me a strange impression. It seemed as though there emanated from Jesus a spirit of belief in the possibilities of the man before Him. And he held up his head at once. Indeed, any man may well hold up his head if Jesus believes in him. And, although no question had been asked, the student said very quietly, 'I will begin again.' And Jesus smiled.

That is another strange thing about Jesus. He has the power to see below the surface into the very depths of the heart. He sees the seeds of lovely flowers where others see only the ugly brown soil that hides them. It is not so true to say that He loves the unlovable as to say that in every one He sees something lovable. And, when the student saw that Jesus believed in him, he believed in himself, and goodness sprang into quickened growth. 

Feeling that Jesus was near as never before, there flashed into the student's mind an impetuous wish to ask Him about some of the intellectual religious difficulties that were troubling him. And Jesus, reading his thoughts, said, 'Have you not seen enough?' And with a great light on his face the student said, 'Yes, it is enough.' He felt that he wanted no proof. The questions of Jesus' birth and the manner of His resurrection seemed remote and irrelevant. The student felt quite sure of Jesus. And, indeed, Jesus needs no credentials except Himself.

And again in my dream I was allowed to look into the future, and I saw the student in the same room, but all the vulgar pictures had been taken down. I remember noticing too that the sunlight was pouring in at the window. And when I looked into his mind I saw that there, too, many thought-pictures had disappeared; that there too the sun was shining. 

And so my dream of Jesus and the student ended.

What seems to be the conflict for the university student?

How does Jesus choose to meet the student in that conflict? Why do you think Jesus' way of meeting the student in that way was 'enough'?

In what way, if any, can you relate to the university student? How might an encounter with Jesus bring you peace?

Today we're going to consider the second of Leslie Weatherhead's four dreams of finding Jesus in a current context of life. (You can read the introduction to this series here and read our discussion of the first dream here.) 

Again, I will quote the dream from the book in full and then give a chance for us to think about what we notice of Jesus and the individuals in this dream, as well as how it touches our own lives.

Here is the full text of dream #2: 

And in my second dream I saw Jesus in the home. It was not clear in the dream whether it was a rich or a poor home. It seemed to me that Jesus would be the same in any home.

From the moment that He entered it with His 'Peace be to this house,' the little children were captivated by Him. I had sometimes imagined that He would only be merry in a dignified and reserved kind of way. But He played with the children with absolute abandon. He got down on His hands and knees, and the little ones climbed up on His back. He was full of fun and brimful of happiness. He was like a child Himself. And when it was time for them to go to bed, He carried the tiny ones up Himself and tucked them in, and heard them say their little prayers. 

After they had gone to bed Jesus stayed and talked with their mother. And in my dream I could see behind her mind, and I knew that she was seeking the help of Jesus. That is one of the strange things about Jesus. People always feel they want to tell Him all their difficulties and get His help. 

So the mother poured out her troubles, her problems, her grief. Jesus never interrupted her once. And He seemed to understand so perfectly that in His very listening there was a strange comfort. It was a long list of worries: the drudgery of housework, the servant problem, the meals, the demands of society inside and outside the house, the difficulty of making ends meet, the worry about the children, the wondering what they should become, the lack of time to teach them as she would like. And I wondered what Jesus would say.

He asked a lot of questions, especially about the parents' own ideals in the home; what did they want the home to stand for? what were their ideals for their chidlren? And the mother told Him her ideals; but she found that always between ideal and its realization seemed to come some barrier or other. 

I remember wondering in my dream if Jesus would reproduce some of His own recorded teaching; or whether He would tell her to get away and have a holiday. But He just looked into her face with a quiet, loving look, until it seemed as if some strange wave of helpfulness emanated from Him. And very quietly He spoke to her about an inward peace. He had nothing to say about the servant problem. He hurled no reproaches against modern society. He just said that nothing mattered so much as that inward peace which all could possess, and which He Himself so evidently had. All other concerns not only sunk into insignificance before it, they were solved in it. 'We are all in the Father's hands,' He said, in His quiet voice, 'and in quiet, waiting trustfulness, there will come the grace we need.'

And in my dream I was allowed to see into the future, and I saw that all the problems of that house had been solved since the coming of Jesus. There was no lessening of the gaiety and fun, but a certain irritability that I had noticed before had vanished, and there was a great calm. The home was like a lovely garden, and the little child-flowers were neither forced in a moral hot-house nor left to struggle in the gloom. They just grew up in the sunshine.

And so my dream about Jesus in the home ended.

What do you notice about Jesus in this story? What do you notice about the way others respond to him in this story?

What, if anything, surprises you about Jesus in this dream? What resonates deeply with you?

How are you personally challenged or encouraged by this picture?

As I mentioned in my previous post, we're going to do a short series on four dreams Leslie Weatherhead wrote about in his book The Transforming Friendship. These dreams give an imaginative picture of what Weatherhead imagined it would have been like to meet Jesus in downtown London in the 1920s.

These dreams give us an opportunity to consider how these pictures of Jesus are consistent with what we are shown of Jesus in the gospel accounts, and also to consider how these pictures can help us imagine what Jesus would be like if we encountered him in our daily lives right now.

In each post for this series, I'll quote the dream from the book in full and then offer a chance for us to share about what we notice of Jesus and the people he encounters in these dreams. 

So, here's dream #1: 

I saw in my dream that Jesus came to a great city and stayed in the house of a certain business man. And one morning, the man, thinking to please his Guest, said, 'I will show you the church where I worship.' But Jesus said, 'No; show me the business where you work.' So the man took Jesus and showed Him round his business, and Jesus took an interest in all He saw. 

But He was not allowed to see everything. He did not see rooms where men worked like rats in dark and dirty holes. Other things also the man concealed; but Jesus did not say anything. And in my dream I could not tell whether He knew that He was being deceived. 

Taking Him into a private office the man showed Jesus his books and his last balance sheet. Jesus sat in the office chair, and, His finger on the page, read through every item. At some items He paused, and, though He did not say a word, the man's face was covered with blushes and his heart throbbed with shame, for he could see that Jesus knew all that had happened before some items could be entered into the credit side. 

Then, very quietly, Jesus spoke. 'I will write the true balance sheet,' He said. I could not see all that He wrote, but on the debit side were entries like this: 'Men kept overtime so late that they were utterly fatigued, their spirits depressed, and temptation found them spent and exhausted'; 'The wrong man made foreman in the workshop; a shrewd man but a bully; the lives of many embittered, the lives of some made fearful'; 'Practices continued after the discovery that they were wrong.' 

And on the credit side were entries such as these: 'An interest in the personal happiness of certain men'; 'The refusal to do a big stroke of business by an underhand method'; 'A little trouble to see that really good work was turned out.'

And when Jesus had finished writing, I could see that there was something the man wanted to say, and at last, after much hesitation, he said it. 'Business is business,' he murmered; 'everybody does these things. If I don't do them my business will suffer, and with me my wife and children.' And Jesus looked into the man's eyes as though He perfectly understood, and, indeed, sympathized. But He said, 'Don't lose your life in trying to find it.' And there were tears in the man's eyes.

And the man took Jesus and showed Him all the things which previously he had concealed. But Jesus never said a word of condemnation. He just said, 'You will be far happier when you have altered it all. Don't be afraid. Your heavenly Father knows what you need.'

And in my dream I was allowed to look into the future, and I saw that the man became much poorer, and many said he was a fool. But there was peace in his heart, and a shining gladness in his eyes, and not a trace of worry in his soul. And I wondered in my dream whether he would become rich; but I learned that the man himself did not even care. 

And so my dream of Jesus and the business man ended.

What do you notice of the way Jesus interacts with this businessman? How is this consistent with or different from what you've previously known of Jesus?

Also, how does this encounter with Jesus seem to affect the businessman? 

How does this dream cause you to think of your own life and how Jesus might respond to you in it?