Alissa Tears

It's 5:28 am on a Monday morning. Not ideal by any means. I just returned from O'Hare, after dropping off my cousins who visited me for the weekend. We had such a fun weekend shopping, eating out, shopping, seeing Chicago landmarks, and shopping. Too bad I'm too broke to shop. Pictures will follow soon, I hope.

I had a dream the other night and haven't had the chance to write about it with them here. In my dream, the world was dominated by those of the Muslim faith. Christianity was no longer acceptable, and believers were being persecuted. In my mind's eye, I was standing before an audience, my family behind me and Alissa to my right. The challenge was this: to recant my faith or see my sister tortured to death. And that's when I awoke.

I'm unresolved this morning, because I don't know what I would do. Ask for my life for Jesus and you have it. But ask for my family? I would say yes...

This morning I'm crying. Not because my faith is unsure. Not because I fear this potential reality. Because I don't know her salvation. I cry because I don't know if she knows Jesus.

This dream, then, is difficult on many levels. We are not to deny the Jesus of the Gospel or He will deny us before the Father. How do we then deal with the death of an unbeliever? Do we send them to eternity without God for our eternity with? Is it love that exchanges our salvation for the potential of theirs? Or does that give credence to the faith at all? How would anyone believe the faith of a believer if they are willing to recant it? Where is the power in that?

Yes, this morning I'm crying for Alissa. I wish I knew...

I wish she knew.