I rarely recall my dreams. The few times I have they were so strange that I derived no satisfaction in the visions. But last night I had a dream and I remember it. The scene was our family room. All the usual pieces were there and in the right place, the sofa, bookcase, television, my recliner. In addition the room was filled with trophies of various shapes, sizes, and colors. In my dream I settled into the recliner. As I did so I noticed a box sitting in the middle of the room. It was just like those cardboard boxes used to store files except it was black as midnight. I took off the lid to examine its contents. The box was crammed full of paper. Pulling a sheet out of the middle I read an account of when lied to my mother about going to a party. Another retold an angry episode with a co-worker. The third one revealed my jealousy when Terry was chosen to be a small group leader. I realized that these were my sins. Not just any sins, but my pet sins. The ones I keep because in some way I was wronged, these sins are not my fault. I would have continued to explore the box but there was a knock at the door.
Glancing up I saw the familiar robes of Jesus through the frosted glass of my door. I panicked. He must not see this box! I did not have time to store it in the attic so I slide it over to a dark corner and threw an afghan over it. As I opened the door I saw the face of love. “May I come in?” I opened the door wider and offered Jesus the recliner. “You added quite a few trophies since we last talked.” Jesus glanced around the room. Pride filled my chest as I picked up one of the trophies from its place near the TV. “Here is the latest one, you remember Jeff, the young man that I brought to you while he was in prison.” The Lord nodded and continued to look around the room. Spying the afghan he said, “what’s under there?” Setting the trophy down I stammered, “just some old memories that need to be thrown out.” I quickly grabbed another trophy and held it out to Jesus. “Remember this one? It was when I organized that food drive.” Jesus nodded again but moved towards the afghan. “Or this one,” I said holding up a silver cup, “this is the time you had me pick that hitchhiker up.” But Jesus could not be distracted from looking under that afghan. “What’s in the box?” I was too embarrassed to look up. “Pet sins,” I mumbled. Feeling that I might be able to justify keeping them I grabbed one out of the box. “See this one, I was the better person to lead that small group, it would have made a beautiful trophy. I don’t understand why Terry got it, it belonged to me.” The sadness in Jesus eyes overwhelmed my argument. “It is the sin of coveting,” Jesus simply replied. Dropping my hands in surrender I said, “Yes, Lord I agree, I confess, that this is my sin of coveting, I repent of it, please take it from me.” In a flash the paper vaporized. Jesus gently lifted my head and looked into my eyes, “how about we deal with the rest of what’s in the box?” I nodded my acknowledgement. “Fantastic,” Jesus replied as he rolled up his sleeves, “after that we can deal with your pride in these trophies.”