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There is a kind of sleep the Bible warns us about—not the peaceful rest God gives His beloved, but the slow dimming of the soul. Proverbs paints the picture vividly: “A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest—and poverty will come upon you like a thief” (Proverbs 6:10–11). This poverty is not merely financial. It is spiritual. It is the emptiness that comes when communion with God is neglected, when the Bread of Life sits untouched while the soul dozes.

Jesus declares in John 6:35 that He is the Bread of Life, the One who satisfies every hunger and quenches every thirst. But spiritual sleep dulls our appetite. It makes prayer feel optional, Scripture feel distant, and worship feel hollow. The tragedy is not that God withholds Himself. The tragedy is that we sleep through the meal.

Proverbs gives another piercing image: “A sluggard buries his hand in the dish; he is too lazy to bring it back to his mouth” (Proverbs 26:15). The food is right there. The nourishment is within reach. But spiritual laziness makes the soul too dull to eat. This is the picture of a believer surrounded by access to God’s Word, worship, fellowship, and prayer—yet too spiritually sleepy to receive any of it. The Bread of Life is offered, but the hand never reaches the mouth.

David understood this danger when he cried, “Enlighten my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death” (Psalm 13:3). He knew that spiritual sleep is not harmless—it is deadly. It blinds the heart, weakens discernment, and leaves the soul vulnerable. This is why he also prayed, “Open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of Your law” (Psalm 119:18). Wakefulness is a gift, but it is also a choice.

Even Jesus taught that the eye is the lamp of the body, and if the eye is healthy, the whole body is full of light (Matthew 6:22). Spiritual wakefulness begins with what we choose to look at, what we choose to desire, what we choose to feed on.

Paul takes this further when he prays that the eyes of our hearts would be enlightened, so that we would know “the hope to which He has called us, and the riches of His glorious inheritance in the saints” (Ephesians 1:18). A sleeping soul cannot see its inheritance. Only awakened eyes can recognize the hope, the calling, and the riches God has prepared.

Scripture gives us a striking picture of this in Daniel 6. When Daniel was thrown into the lions’ den, he did not fast through the night. The one who fasted was the king. “The king passed the night fasting… and his sleep fled from him” (Daniel 6:18). A pagan king, shaken awake by fear and conscience, could not eat or rest. Daniel, meanwhile, rested in perfect peace—not because he was spiritually asleep, but because he had lived spiritually awake. His habits of prayer and devotion were already established long before the crisis. He didn’t need a last‑minute awakening. He walked into the darkness already full of light.

And when God delivered Daniel, something extraordinary happened: King Darius turned his heart toward the living God. He issued a decree to the entire empire—“in all my royal dominion”—commanding every nation, tribe, and tongue to fear and honor the God of Daniel (Daniel 6:25–27). One man’s spiritual wakefulness stirred a king. And one king’s awakening shook a nation. What began with a night of fasting ended with a national proclamation of God’s power, sovereignty, and eternal kingdom.

This contrast reveals something important: the troubled lose sleep, but the spiritually awake find peace—and their wakefulness can awaken others.

And this leads into a realm many believers experience but rarely discuss—dreams.

Sometimes dreams present scenes where you find yourself interacting with a sleeping person you know in real life—someone whose spiritual life is dormant. In the dream, you may be lying beside them, sharing a bed, or trying unsuccessfully to wake them. These dreams often reveal more than the condition of the other person—they expose something in us. They show where our own spirit may be drifting, where our guard is lowered, or where we have entered into quiet agreement with spiritual drowsiness.

Scripture gives language to this dynamic: “Can two walk together, except they be agreed?” (Amos 3:3). Dreams like these can uncover hidden agreements—places where we have tolerated spiritual laziness, compromised desires, or emotional ties that pull us toward sleep instead of wakefulness. The sleeping person in the dream may symbolize someone else, but the shared bed often symbolizes shared spiritual posture. It is a picture of how easily spiritual sleep spreads, how quickly one person’s slumber can influence another’s.

These dreams are not accusations. They are invitations. Invitations to wakefulness. Invitations to intercession. Invitations to break agreement with spiritual lethargy. They remind us that spiritual sleep is contagious, but so is spiritual alertness. They call us to examine our own hearts and ask: Where have I grown dull? Where have I stopped feeding on the Bread of Life? Where have I allowed agreement with spiritual sleep?

And this is where the remedy appears again in Scripture: night fasting. The king in Daniel 6 spent the night fasting—not because he was righteous, but because he was troubled. His body refused rest because his spirit was stirred. Night fasting becomes a way of breaking agreement with spiritual slumber. It is a deliberate act of wakefulness, a way of saying, “Lord, I refuse to lie down with spiritual sleep. I choose to stand in the light.”

Night fasting sharpens the senses. It awakens the heart. It strengthens the inner man. It aligns us with David’s cry, “Consider and hear me… enlighten my eyes” (Psalm 13:3). It echoes Paul’s prayer that the eyes of our hearts would be enlightened so we can see the riches of our inheritance (Ephesians 1:18). It is a way of stepping out of agreement with spiritual slumber and into agreement with God’s wakefulness.

Because the truth remains: we cannot feast on Christ while we are spiritually asleep. Communion requires wakefulness—desire, attention, a heart turned toward Him.

And when we choose—even in small ways—to open our eyes, lift our hearts, and turn toward Christ, He meets us with abundance. He fills the hungry. He satisfies the thirsty. He awakens the weary. He restores the spiritually poor with riches that cannot be taken.

The Bread of Life is on the table. The night is passing. The call is simple: Wake up and eat.