"Spiritual Suffering – Groaning in the Spirit: A Dream of Healing and Transformation"

When God Gives Us Dreams: Groaning, Healing, and Resting in the Spirit
We often hear about famous dreams that changed the world. Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech stands as a monument to hope, justice, and transformation. But what about the dreams God gives to ordinary people—dreams that may not move nations but profoundly shift the trajectory of individual lives and communities?

Dreams from God come in unexpected ways. Sometimes they arrive in the quiet of night, breaking into our consciousness with a clarity that defies explanation. These aren't the scattered images of our subconscious processing the day's events. These are encounters with the divine presence that leave us fundamentally changed.

The Dream That Wouldn't Let Go
Imagine being frozen in prayer, unable to move or speak, while the overwhelming presence of God fills every corner of your being. Picture yourself rising—chair and all—toward the ceiling while simultaneously remaining visible to others at ground level. This paradox captures something essential about spiritual experience: we can be in two places at once, fully present in the physical world while being caught up in divine reality.

This kind of encounter isn't about spectacle. It's about revelation. When God stops us in our tracks, preventing us from doing what we've always done, He's often preparing us for something new. The message is clear: Be still. Wait. Listen. I have something different in mind.

The Battle Within
Before these mountaintop moments come valleys of struggle. Romans 8 speaks powerfully about groaning—both creation's groaning and the Spirit's groaning within us. This isn't comfortable spirituality. It's the wrestling match between who we are and who God is calling us to become.

Consider a seemingly insignificant moment: fumbling in the dark, nearly dropping a glass of water, feeling disproportionate anger rise up. These small irritations reveal deeper realities. They expose the malice, deceit, hypocrisy, and envy that Peter urges us to rid ourselves of in 1 Peter 2:1-12.

But how do we rid ourselves of what seems so deeply embedded in our nature?

The answer lies in groaning—that deep, wordless prayer where we bring everything to God. We breathe deeply, acknowledging what we cannot control. We lift up the resentments we can't quite name, the jealousies we're ashamed to admit, the anger that seems out of proportion to its trigger. We groan because we don't have the words, and the Spirit intercedes for us with groans too deep for words.

Two Bookends of Spiritual Suffering
Scripture gives us two powerful images of God's intervention in human lives—what might be called being "slain in the spirit."

Saul of Tarsus was struck blind on the Damascus road, his persecution of Christians halted by a divine encounter. For three days he couldn't see, wrestling with the voice that asked, "Why are you persecuting me?" Only when Ananias laid hands on him did scales fall from his eyes—both physically and spiritually.

John Morant, a 13-year-old musical prodigy, entered a revival meeting planning to mock God and disrupt the service. Instead, when the preacher declared, "Meet thou maker, O Israel," young John collapsed, slain in the spirit. For three days he wrestled with God, physically sick and spiritually tormented, until he finally surrendered and received Christ.

These dramatic interventions represent one bookend—God's discipline for those heading in dangerous directions.

Resting in the Spirit
But there's another bookend: resting in the spirit. This is the gentle invitation to come like a newborn colt, wobbly and uncertain, instinctively seeking the pure spiritual milk that will build immunity and strength.

Picture that scene: a mare giving birth for the first time, the newborn colt emerging wet and shaky, trying to suckle cracks in the barn wall because it doesn't yet know where to find what it needs. The colt runs from the unfamiliar human trying to help, yet when brought close to its mother, instinct takes over. The smell, the presence, the closeness—suddenly the colt knows exactly what to do.

We are that colt. We crave pure spiritual milk, even when we don't know where to find it. We try to satisfy our deepest hungers with everything except what will truly nourish us. But when we draw near to God, when we're brought into His presence, something within us recognizes what we've been seeking all along.

First Peter 2:2 makes this invitation: "Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation."

The God Who Draws Near
The most beautiful promise in all of this is found in Psalm 34:18: "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

God doesn't distance Himself from our pain. He draws near to it. He doesn't break the bruised reed or snuff out the smoldering wick (Matthew 12:20). Instead, He tends to our wounds with infinite gentleness.

When Moses asked God's name at the burning bush, God replied, "I AM WHO I AM." This wasn't evasion but promise. God is saying, "I will be whoever you need Me to be. Whatever the situation requires, that's who I will be for you."

Need discipline? He'll provide it. Need comfort? He'll give that instead. Need strength? He's already there. Need healing? He's close to the brokenhearted.

Living Between the Groaning and the Glory
Our spiritual lives exist in the tension between groaning and glory, between suffering and salvation, between wrestling and resting. Romans 8:28 promises that "in all things God works for the good of those who love him," but "all things" includes the uncomfortable stuff—the anger that surprises us, the envy we're ashamed of, the hypocrisy we can't quite shake.

God uses all of it. He uses our suffering, our struggles, our midnight wrestling matches. He uses the moments when we can't pray with words and can only groan. He uses our brokenness to draw us closer, to purify our hearts, to mature our faith.

The invitation is simple but profound: Come as you are. Groan in the Spirit. Crave the pure spiritual milk. Draw near to the One who is already close to the brokenhearted. Let Him be the great I AM in whatever way you need Him today.

This is the dream God has for each of us—not perfection, but progression; not instant transformation, but faithful groaning that leads to gradual healing; not spiritual athleticism, but the wobbly steps of a newborn learning to find nourishment in the presence of the One who loves us most.