My Experiences with Jesus
by Connie Brisson
Jesus Christ.
I say that a lot some days… and not always because I’m praying. Sometimes it’s because I’m frustrated or depressed, but always I know his name has great power.
The first time I remember experiencing Jesus was in a dream I had when I was about five-years-old. Earlier that day my Mom had carpet layers coming to the house and she specifically told my sister and I that she wanted us to be “good” because it was going to be a stressful day.
And I don’t know what happened next – I really think it was because she told us to be good that instead we acted like bloody monkeys jumping all over the place the whole time the carpet layers were there. We went crazy.
When they left she was very angry, told us we had been bad and because I knew she was right, I was overcome with guilt (my Mom never got mad at us so this was beyond terrible for me). This situation affected me so badly that I later had a dream that night from Spirit to help me.
I dreamed that Jesus was at the top of a beautiful white marble staircase in a castle and he told me that I was good – that I wasn’t bad. As a little kid, I just couldn’t believe that Jesus (I mean, the Jesus) had come to see me! That dream profoundly affected me for the rest of my life. I’ve never forgotten it.
Although I grew up Catholic and later even became a born again Christian for a while, Jesus never came again to me like that until I was about 24-years-old and going to university in Victoria, B.C. I had graduated from Grant MacEwan the year before with my Journalism and decided to go to Victoria for their Creative Writing program. I thought that if I moved away, leaving behind the old (people, problems, pain), that my life would miraculously change and I would find the happiness that I was so desperately looking for.
But what I found out there in Victoria was just more of the same (it turns out we can’t escape what’s inside of us by changing the outside). When I realized that – that maybe this was as good as life got (that there was no escaping my circumstances or myself, no matter how I changed my supporting cast or theatre set) – I came to a place of deep despair.
One night, after an especially difficult day, I was very depressed, wondering if this was how my life was always going to be and in the darkness of my room, I prayed to God. Well, it was more like a very desperate talk with a lot of sobbing involved. I told Him that if I mattered then He needed to send me some help.
And then, that night, I had the most amazing dream. It was the “end of the world” and we were all being raised to the sky. I was so scared, but as I was being lifted I came towards a being of light that was more dazzling than the sun. I quickly realized it was Jesus. And as my body passed through him, I felt the most incredible, pure love that I’ve ever felt in my life. That feeling of immense love immediately burrowed itself deep inside of me, into every cell of my body, changing me. Even after the dream, I buzzed for weeks. It was a pivotal dream for me and I’ve never had a dream like it ever again.
Many years later, after Marcel and I bought our first house, we had some art on the floor that we had not yet had a chance to hang up. What happened next, I’ll never forget. Our little granddaughter, just two-years-old, surprised me when she walked up to an icon painting of Jesus (that was sitting on the floor), lifted it up, kissed it and then put it back down before carrying on to play. I know that she did not know who Jesus was (no one in her family was religious, at all).
Then when our daughter Gabrielle was very small, between two and three-years-old, she used to come to me every so often, and tell me that she had just seen Jesus walking by our house. That was a great shock to me (that she even knew that name, because I’d never even talked about Jesus) and we had never gone to church. We did have a picture of Jesus in our house – the same picture that our granddaughter had kissed about eight years earlier – but I don’t remember ever explaining to Gabrielle who that picture was.
Then one day, when Gabrielle was about three-years-old, we did go into a church for a meeting and as soon as we walked into the church, she said to me in awe: “Mom, Jesus lives here.” It was one of those profound moments because I knew I’d heard something true from a place of innocent.
I believe there is a part of us that remembers Jesus or the powerful energy of what Jesus represents (by whatever name we call it) when we come down here. And then as time goes by, we forget.
But children and our dream-worlds remind us that we can get help from spiritual energies like Jesus and many others from the Other Side. We just need to remember to ask, because Spirit can’t help us unless we specifically ask for it (in respect of our free wills).
I just had a brilliant idea… Because I actually do say “Jesus Christ” a lot when I’m frustrated/angry, that would be the perfect time to consciously rewire my brain and create a healthier habit… What if I consistently add a new ending (every time I say Jesus Christ) that would shift the energy from anger to one of hope and possibilities. What if, after a deep breath, I add on these three simple words: “Please help me.” Or maybe even better: “Please help me see this differently.”
What a powerful prayer (and habit) that would be, as life would naturally have to change if one consciously and consistently asked to see things differently. It would open up the opportunity for a world of possibilities (instead of closing down energetically). And because His name has power in itself, it invites in the highest of possibilities.
This week, when you are frustrated or worried, consciously stop yourself and say (to your higher power): “Please help me see this differently.” Then be open to new thoughts and ideas that will automatically (by your intention) open up new possibilities for you. “Ask and thou shall receive.”
