Dream Logs & Scabs Yet to Scar
God surprising me in community
Hi everyone,
This past week was an incredibly rich time for both my performing and Notes of Rest. Playing with Isaiah Collier at Jazz at Lincoln Center and in Winter Jazz Fest was dope, as was offering Notes of Rest at St. Peter’s Chelsea and at Colgate Rochester Crozer Divinity School in Rochester. Ha, it was my first Notes tour!
On Sunday there was a surprising revelation that I wanted to share. We were discussing practicing the note of sleep. At that moment had been talking about Joseph’s ability to discern God’s directives for him in the dream, the ones that would lead Joseph to take Mary as his wife, name their child Jesus, and flee with his new family to Egypt to avoid King Herod’s infanticide back in Bethlehem.
Amidst my teaching, the Holy Spirit gave me an idea. What if St. Peter’s started a corporate dream log? What if God was speaking to the congregation through people’s respective dreams? Of course, not all dreams would be relevant to put down, but who knows, some might be.
We often don’t share our dreams - in part because we don’t remember many of them - or because they’re non-sensical, too personal, or just downright embarrassing. But man, what if we were oriented towards each other in community with our dreams such that this extremely fertile state of introspection and communication with God could be made available to a discerning body of faith? I wonder what kinds of Holy Spirit ideas could come out of discerning dreams consistently, together.
On Monday, I had another surprise. Being my off day, I went up to New Haven to see friends from my old church Elm City Vineyard. In the midst of catching up, I somehow stumbled onto old wounds from my Notes of Rest journey that I thought had healed. Apparently they were scabs yet to scar. One is too private to share here, but the others I want to, as I think it helps provide context for the healing that God’s rest can bring.
After a Notes of Rest session in 2022, I went to dinner with some of the pastors who had attended. Over good Indian food, I told them that my wife was a physician, to which one of them said, “I’m glad your wife can finance your hobby.” The whole table proceeded to laugh, including me. I felt I had to do so in order to save face, but on the inside I was burning. (I also found it tragically, and comically, ironic that a pastor, out of all people, would say this to me, given the precariousness of ministry for most these days. But I digress.)
Later that night at an informal hang, another pastor publicly asked me what qualified me to be there. Both pastors were White.
Both comments stung. They hurt so bad that next day before my next session I walked away from the church, sat down on the curb, and wept. I wept for me, but I also wept for my people - Black folk for whom such indignities were an everyday occurrence. I felt so alone in that moment, so small. I had flown halfway across the country to serve strangers to be met with this. (To be fair and clear, many others were appreciative. Overall the sessions were off the chain. But that doesn’t nullify the pain.)
That was back in 2022, and I had thought that since then I had moved on. I thought I had developed tougher skin, learned the value of knowing my worth and knowing the power and assignment God had given me to use my gifts to advance God’s reign in this world of ignorance and violence. After all, such resistance was a sign that I was doing something right, right?
But when I had gathered with my dear old friends this week, the memories resurfaced with force and I was surprised that I felt compelled to share them. Thankfully my community had the wherewithal to ask if they could pray a healing prayer over my soul. Though I had learned lessons, I had not healed. Those are different orientations towards pain. I had rationalized and strategized and resolved my way out of it, but I hadn’t received healing prayer from others. It is good to be known by old friends who can see your tender spots and help you seek wholeness.
Core to both of these stories is God’s surprising grace borne out in church community. In the midst of visiting with the St. Peter’s community, God surprised me with the insight about the dream log for them, and in the midst of returning to the Elm City Vineyard community, God surprised me with addressing my wounds that were still healing.
I often narrate Notes of Rest as just an up-and-to-the-right journey, but it has not been. Like with anything else worth pursuing, it has come with pain and doubt, loneliness and anger. But like with anything else worth pursuing, it bears the marks of God’s grace and mercy covering over a multitude of sins, mine and others. I am a living testament that our deepest rest comes from receiving God’s embrace, and that it comes in life shared. Glory be to God.
abundantly,
Julian
What’s Next
Jan 25-27 Theological Education Between the Times (Pasadena)
Feb 1 Notes of Rest at Olivet Nazarene University (Chicago)
Feb 1 Julian Davis Reid’s Circle of Trust at Hungry Brain (Chicago)
Feb 2-3 Marques Carroll Quintet at Andy’s Jazz Club (Chicago)
Feb 4 Julian Davis Reid’s Circle of Trust at First United Methodist of Oak Park (Chicago)
Feb 11 Notes of Rest at Barrington United Methodist Church (Chicago)
Feb 15 Notes of Rest at Saint Leonard’s Ministries (Chicago)
Feb 17 Notes of Rest at Dominican University for Black Students Retreat (Chicago)
Feb 24 Notes of Rest at St. Benedict the African (Chicago)
Feb 25 Isaiah Collier at Winterland Six (Jacksonville)
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From Closer Than Breath
2024 Centering Prayer Summit - January 20-21, Online
The summit marks a significant milestone, celebrating 40 years of Contemplative Outreach's spiritual work of sharing the gift of Centering Prayer. A two-day journey exploring the depths of Centering Prayer, contemplation, God, and the future of contemplative community, the summit features twenty speakers, including Cynthia Bourgeault and Michael Battle.
This really touched something in me. I first read this post last week and Im still thinking of the ways it resonates inside of my self. But I really felt for you! Perhaps because I could relate. And I think it's inspiring how you moved through this and even went on to integrate musical performances into a corporate setting, playing at a law firm (the recent post you wrote about this and linked to this post, in case somebody is reading this and doesn't know). Best wishes and many blessings :) Thanks for sharing something so honest and vulnerable.
Julian, I am reminded of one of the lessons I learned from you from Bible study at Lourdes. People attack that which they don't understand. Also, like your earlier post about the log in our eye and the responsibility to look inside first, I wonder what was so threatening that generated a lack of kindness. I wonder if it is because we are so concerned with power, money, and pleasure, that we forget the value of service and vulnerability and creativity. I'm sorry that you were hurt. I am grateful for your testimony. Thank you!