I dreamed I was a doctor. I was stationed in the darkest of places, fighting a deadly disease among a very primitive tribe. This tribal group was particularly vicious by nature, and what is more, they did not like me at all.
Their primitive beliefs were certainly strange. They were utterly convinced that they were related to gorillas, and that they originally came from a puddle of water.
In the dream, I wanted to run from their delusions, but I couldn’t because I knew that they needed to be inoculated or they would all die. My job was to convince them that they were in serious danger and that they needed to hold still while I plunged a needle into their tender flesh—a difficult task indeed.
It was hard because these tribal people were particularly proud, and thought that they needed nothing and knew everything. They were so primitive in their thinking that they only believed in what they could see. They were especially resistant to the idea that there were unseen microorganisms, and that the deadly disease that was killing them was being promoted by their filthy lifestyle.
Then I awoke to the fact that it was not a dream at all, and that I have a difficult task ahead of me, but one from which I will not run.
2 Kings 8:8 And the king said to Hazael, “Take a present in your hand, and go to meet the man of God, and inquire of the Lord by him, saying, ‘Shall I recover from this disease?’ ”