Hello, my name is Regan Martin and I am a dreamer.
I’ve been dreaming from the moment I could start remembering them, maybe even before that. It’s a gift from God that I have come to love having… a vibrant and wonderful way to experience God, to grow closer to Him in. My grandpa and aunt are also dreamers, and they write down their dreams. My younger self, somewhere around the age of 8 or 9, decided that that was a good idea. From then on I wrote out my dreams in a composition notebook that I decorated myself, titled “My Dream Notebook.” At this point it’s completely filled up, sitting at the bottom of my bookshelf in my bedroom back in America (*takes a moment and thinks of being able to sleep in a real bed, with all the blankets my little heart could possibly desire*).
Dreaming is a way that God has used in so many ways, especially when revealing more and more of His calling for me. Actually, now that I really think about it, a LOT of God’s calling over my life and plans He has in store for me have come from dreams… dang that’s crazy awesome to think about. Sorry I got distracted ANYWAYS there was one such dream that happened several years ago. The night of June 6th, 2014 I climbed up the red-painted ladder of my bunk bed, pulled the thick blanket up to my chin, and closed my eyes. As I drifted off to sleep the Holy Spirit gifted me with a dream; a dream that I have come to cherish:
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I was standing in what looked to be a huge white marble ballroom. With me was also a boy wearing a Newsboy-esque cap and a couple other younger kids. I was standing at the top of a double staircase, crowned with grand French double doors that were closed shut. If you were to stand at the top of the staircase with your back to the doors, you would notice that there was a fenced in balcony overlooking the dance floor on either side of you. As I stepped into the right-side balcony the atmosphere felt as though I had walked into the small bedroom of a cozy home- it held 4 tall windows in which soft lazy sunlight shone through. All over the room possessions that had once belonged to Jewish people were stacked… the thing is, everything was pink. Pink teddy bears, pink books, pink shirts, pink crayons, and on and on. I turned around and walked to the left balcony. This side of the doors felt different… it felt sterile and empty, emphasis on the cold marble beneath my feet. A rectangular board was set up on a stand in front of the balcony railing. On the board was the Jewish Star of David, a star with 6 points on it. The star was cut up into several pieces (potentially 6??) and stuck onto the board. Each piece was a different color: bright red, bright yellow, emerald green, purple, and maybe bright orange and blue. Transfixed, I stared at the pieces for a while. The boy and I climbed up and onto the balcony’s marble railing. We stood on it without fear, balancing and laughing. Suddenly, my eyes were drawn below me- seemingly out of nowhere a man and woman had stepped onto the ballroom floor. With them they had brought an aura of alarm, a kind of air of evil/danger. The man, the dominating presence of the two, was dressed without fault in a cutting pinstripe suit. Standing just a little behind the man, the woman was his secretary. Both of their faces were cast in dark shadows… yet I could feel the threatening gaze of the man on me as though he had aimed a gun towards me and cocked it. The man ordered the boy and I to stop and come down from the balcony… the man had authority of some kind, yet not the kind that had power over us. Pushing past our fear the boy and I stood in a quiet yet firm defiance.
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The dream came to its end, and I woke up. I stared at the ceiling for several minutes as both my body began to wake up and my brain began to register that I had just had a dream… not just any dream, but one that added fuel to the fire that was starting to grow inside of me. This fire that I’m talkin about is a love for God’s people. Ugh I’m getting ahead of myself… at this point in my life, this dream pushed me to go to God and ask questions about the Jews. *ahem* Okay let’s get back on track. SO my dream notebook in hand, I recounted the whoooole dream on paper: every detail (including drawings) was penned out. After almost two hours my cramped hand finally let go of the pen: I was finished. For several minutes I sat there, staring at all those words and trying to make sense of it. Thing is, you can’t try to force human common sense onto a dream… this dream was inspired by God, so the discernment of the dream lay in His hands alone. No book written by human hands with titles such as “10 Things Your Dreams Say About You,” dream interpretation books, or any other self-help book can interpret like the Creator of the Universe could. Only the Creator could understand how His creation works, and this dream was of His creating. Over the years the Holy Spirit has revealed to me little nuggets of discernment on this specific dream, but never in its full capacity. I am okay with this. I trust God and His plan for me; He will reveal things when He chooses as the right time comes.
After that whole dream thing happened, my curiosity towards the Jewish people and Israel grew. By this point I started to have an inkling that God was going to somehow involve the Jews in my life; even though I had no idea in what way or even how much. This realization was bolstered by the fact that all my life I have felt some kind of pull, a draw of sorts, towards all things Jewish/Israel. The following snapshots are a few moments when the Holy Spirit tugged me towards His calling.
I remember when I was small, probs younger than 10, when my family was driving through the countryside in our car. I was looking out the window, watching the fields go by. As I’m looking out, the corn rows become replaced with a large clearing. In the clearing sits a white stoned building with a large Jewish star in the center, just above the entrance. Even at that age I knew what it was- a synagogue, the place where Jews worship God. I felt a pull towards it; something inside of me wanted to go in. But just as suddenly as the building appeared, it was replaced once more by rows of corn, and I moved on.
I absolutely love reading. How amazing is it that there are millions of stories out there? Stories about the world, Jesus, life, people, cultures, etc. By the 5th grade I was reading book after book, especially historical fiction stuff. I started reading stories told from Holocaust survivors… the horrors they encountered at the hands of fellow human beings, and the courage it took to fight for the will to live. To this day this is one of my favorite parts of history to read stories from. Why? Cause oftentimes the storyteller will talk of their Jewish religion (or lack thereof in some cases), their culture, their family traditions, or their dreams to run away to the Israeli land of Palestine (now Israel). Their stories would be woven with tales of Jewish traditions sprinkled with the melodic Hebrew language- tales of their mother baking challah bread for Shabbat dinner, or their father wearing his prayer shawl as he faced towards the west to pray, or the reminder of God’s promise that a Jewish remnant would survive history no matter what. Besides my curiosity and hunger to know more about what it looked like for God’s people to live, I also had a question that popped up every time I read a Holocaust story: Why are God’s people, the Jews, persecuted so hard throughout all of history??
In Sunday school you get taught Bible stories about God’s people, the Israelites. Boy did they mess up so much… geez. Yet each time they turned away from God, they would eventually come full circle and run right back to Him over, and over, and over again. In today’s age, it’s the same exact thing- the Jewish people have turned from God, although this time they’ve turned away from Him by rejecting Jesus Christ as the Messiah. And guess what’s gonna happen one day?
*drum roll please*
The Jewish people will do a 360 and RUN to Jesus Christ, the Son of God! You guys this is absolutely AMAZING. The Jewish people are God’s chosen people. Jesus was sent to save first the Jews, then the Gentiles. A;LKDHGHA I can’t even I literally get so excited over this stuff (just ask my team, they can tell you how on multiple occasions I’ve gone off on rants… I love my teammates)!!! God is not finished with the Jewish people, or Israel.
One expectation I came onto the Race with is that God will reveal my calling in greater detail, other than the word “missionary.” I assumed that God would say something direct such as “Regan, you’re going to go into this specific country and do this specific ministry at this specific time.” That’s completely bogus. I put an infinite God in a box, one that I could fit into my tiny human hand. Instead of God doing things my way, He’s doing things His way: I am called to bring closer Jesus’ return, and I am SO EXCITED and so freaking READY!!!!
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Hello, my name is Regan Martin. God called and promised me that I would be a missionary for Him when I was in 5th grade. God has called me to help bring closer the second coming of Jesus Christ by spreading Jesus’ love to the world’s unreached people and making the Jews jealous. I am a kingdom shaker, I am a weapon in the hands of the Almighty to break the enemy’s lies in my life and those around me. I am a prophet, a dreamer. I am a leader, and a servant to God’s will. I am a child of God. I am pure and unblemished in my Father’s eyes. I am a Joshua, a mighty warrior for Yahweh. I am a follower of Jesus Christ.
Satan, you better watch the hell out.
