My dreams are made of you—from first light to the setting of the sun.
All that are gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender—radiant shades and gleaming colors of the human tapestry—in every way, beautifully and wonderfully made. The stars, dull in comparison to your splendor.
Those special souls who bear these children, conceived by the moving of My Spirit bringing forth life—not just a life, but Light for all to see, exposing and revealing truth with every breath they breathe. Be it forever known in crystal clarity, you parent not just flesh and blood, but a cosmic awakening, pulsating from My creative majesty. Each one, a birthing from the throne so universe shaking—the mere truth of their divine being chases religious hearts out of deep seated shadows, setting free poets and prophets of true love and Grace in waves the size of eternity. Yours is an honor bestowed, a high privilege—the threads of Mary and Joseph spooled and weaved into the adornments of your calling.
All that are gay, all that are lesbian, all that are bisexual, all that are transgender, all of every shade of heaven in between—My dreams are made of you.
You are My smile that extends as far as the east is from the west. You are the joy the Father graciously sets before My chest.
You are the laughter that can’t be contained from the depths of My belly.
You are warmth of a winter’s fire, the breeze of a summer’s shower.
You are the echo of my voice through a river of mountains. You are the stream of sheer jubilation, welling up from My eternal fountain.
You are the delight that sends Me love-drunk into the streets. You are the pulse moving through My veins with every heart beat.
Forever and ever and ever I say—My dreams are made of you.
I know the hurt, the skin melting pain, the soul stripping floggings of condemnation. When I was ridiculed and rejected by My own bigoted family—there I was thinking of you. When I cried over Jerusalem, begging to be understood and simply accepted—there I was living as you. When I was in the garden, on bended knee, begging for divine reprieve, my cup flowing over with doubts and hopelessness—there I was scared just like you. When I was left to die on a religiously conspired cross, murdered in body, mind, and spirit, crucified to death by ignorance and hate, and even good people who remain silent and unengaged—there I was dying, not just for you, but on the Tree, as you.
There has never been a time you have ever been alone.
You are not the forsaken.
You are not an abomination.
You are not a sin that needs reformation.
You owe no apology, no explanation, no verse, nor spiritual transformation.
This is your time, this is your permission, this is your affirmation, this is My decision.
Be you, be fully you—for My sake, for my Name, for my Fame throughout all the universe—be you, unashamed.
Everything I am, everything I make—everything that is of mine is forever and freely yours. You are the diamonds from which dreams are made, extravagantly, specifically, and intentionally created.
Bend your ear, release your soul, I’m shouting from the heavens—from the edge of My seat, the tip top of My heart.
Listen to the cry of My trinity, Three in One wrapped in infinity.
My dreams are made of you.
My dreams are made of you.
My dreams are made of—