"It is all really beautiful." - Explore Archived World Race Alumni Blogs

Two and a half years ago, I was in a dark place in my thinking and really struggling to find joy in the day to day. I felt weighted down by monotonous tasks and was struggling to process my emotions regarding certain hardships. I was wondering why there had to be so much ugliness and brokenness in this world. Did the good really outweigh the bad? Because at times it didn’t feel like it. I knew God was good all the time, I knew he was close to us through the trials, I knew His light would always overcome the darkness, but my heart was heavy trying to find purpose in it all.

It was Christmas break and my family was making our way back from Oklahoma to Kansas. I had my headphones in and was listening to “I Will Wait” by Mumford & Sons.

Well I came home Like a stone

And I fell heavy into your arms

These days of dust Which we’ve known

Will blow away with this new sun

But I’ll kneel down Wait for now

And I’ll kneel down Know my ground

And I will wait, I will wait for you

I pondered how those lyrics related to my current circumstances. I just wanted Jesus to come back. That was the last song I remember listening to before I fell asleep.

I then had the most vivid dream I’ve ever had in my whole life & it changed everything for me. When I woke up and recounted my dream to my parents, my mom encouraged me to write every bit of it down. This is from the document I typed up that night.

I walked into a forest and it was densely populated with trees that were denser and richer than California redwoods. A white canvas stretched across 3 to 4 trees that were aligned. There was an open patch of dirt I was standing on looking at the canvas, about as big as a living room. Those details didn’t matter though, none of that did. The rest happened naturally; it was as if I knew exactly what to do. 3 ft from the base of the trees were these paint buckets/cans full of colors of paint. I walked up to the first bucket and dipped my whole hand in. I instantaneously hurled my hand toward the big blank canvas with so much domination. It was like I was throwing a baseball from deep left field all the way to first base even though the canvas was less than 3 ft away. I moved from paint can to paint can throwing paint at the canvas. At first they were just colors. But then the colors became emotions. The only two colors I remember specifically were brick red being bitterness/resentment and a soft yellow as laughter. The kind of yellow you would paint a baby’s room with. I dipped my hand into the color of emotion and was immediately swallowed in that feeling. My hand was engulfed in brick red and I threw it so hard with so much controlled fury. All of my anger and bitterness and resentment, all of it together, was aimed toward a specific event in my life. I dunked my hand in colors of sin and joy and bad and good. There were so many; cans of passion, happiness, indulgence, vengeance, resentment, gratitude, anger, joy, bitterness, laughter, brokenness, hatred, love, self-loathing, positivity, negativity, grace, forgiveness, sorrow, defeat, success, failure, hope, loneliness, fulfillment, etc. I flung colors on that canvas with such swiftness and gradually moved faster and faster. I eventually moved at such a pace that I was hardly catching glimpses of the canvas in between throws. I was crying the whole time. My body was covered in paint and in colors. Come to think of it, I don’t think I was wearing clothes, but I wasn’t alarmed by it. I was absolutely captivated. The emotion I cannot normally harness and get overwhelmed and frustrated by was so controlled and so soulful. The bitterness/anger was so prominent. It was the first can I started with. A deep brick red, thicker and darker than blood. I whipped it onto the blank white canvas and stretched its color over the whole thing. All of the other emotions were so very real and I felt them with a deeper compassion than I’ve ever experienced in life, but they weren’t attached to anything specifically. I was crying because of the pain but also the joy. Crying because as I was throwing I was beginning to understand. It was the most alive my soul has ever felt. The self loathing/anger was attached to a specific image, actually. It was attached to depression. I’ve never cut myself before or caused personal harm, but I’ve always understood why people have, and have felt that “desire” to attack the emotion by attacking myself. The emotion of self loathing/anger was thrown onto the canvas with as much “fight mentality” as cutting my chest open from one side of my collar bone to the other. Instead of a scar or a mark across my chest, the color of that paint resided. When I was done, I was crying with an exhaustion in my throat and looked down at my hands. I held them palms up in loose fists and looked at my hands like a hard-working man would brace himself at the end of a long day to look at his calloused hands. But my hands did not hurt. They were just covered with paint. I didn’t feel anything anymore though. I lifted my head and looked up at the canvas that was clothed in such rich color. But as I looked up, Jesus was standing there to the left side of the masterpiece. The sky was clouded but a light stretched between 2 trees and masked part of his face. He was there. And it was so real. I knew just who he was, there was no question and he knew I knew. He had a resting smile and said to me, “It is all, really, beautiful.” There was a soft exhale when he said “really.” It was not just an adjective, but a pause to inflect how truly beautiful life was when all of it- the good and bad- was on the canvas. It was the only thing he said, and come to think of it I never said anything to him. I just listened. He explained so much with imagery that words were hardly necessary. I’ve always dreamed of standing in his presence and took a step forward but immediately hung my head in shame/bashfulness. I saw that the bucket was collecting the thickness of paint that was dripping from the canvas, but drop by drop it was all red. I stepped forward and cupped my hands to catch the next few drops in complete perplexity. It was thinner than the paint and was all a oneness of color. I cupped my hands up closer to my face to see it more clearly. I looked up as if to ask Jesus what it was, although I was figuring it out. He was no longer there- and I gasped bringing my hands to my lips in awe of his disappearance and that’s when I tasted and smelled the blood upon my lips. I looked up at the canvas and the colors were all gone. It was a painting made by the blood. A hill with three crosses. All of the paint on my body also turned to blood, but again I was not surprised or freaked out by it. Still softly crying and in shock as to what was happening, I hung my head again. I don’t know how to describe it because it was not an emotional state, because the emotions were washed away; turned to blood. I was sad that Jesus was doing it, but knew that he had to. I didn’t try to fight it, just knew it had to happen, and I didn’t struggle with accepting it either. Scripture was there the whole time. It wasn’t being read to me or whispered and I couldn’t see it. It was just there. As I looked at the painting of the hill and crosses “IT IS FINISHED. With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.” John 19:30 was all around me. Suddenly it began to rain.

“We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.” 2 Corinthians 4:8-9

The canvas was white again.

I’m not usually this in tune with the Spirit, and I’ve never heard God speak audibly to me before. Things like this aren’t normal. I have vivid dreams a lot (shout out to narcolepsy), but usually I can’t remember them in such detail.

This dream lit a fire in me. I moved on from that victim mentality I was living in and was joyful again. Even my dad said he noticed a change in my attitude.

I shared the dream with lots of my friends when I got back from Christmas break and a few months later my friend Bex said to me, “Let’s recreate it.”

So we did.