The dream Jim Cavisel experienced 3 weeks ago was never meant to be shared with another living soul. It arrived in the deepest hours of night. Carrying weight that felt both terrifying and sacred, too intimate to speak aloud, too powerful to dismiss as mere imagination.

But when Jonathan Roomie walked through the wooden gates of his Washington state property that April morning in 2024, Jim understood with absolute certainty that God had orchestrated this meeting for one singular purpose, to deliver a message about a secret Jonathan had been desperately hiding from everyone who knew him.

What Jesus revealed to Jim in that dream about the younger actor’s hidden burden would completely shatter Jonathan’s carefully maintained composure. and what transpired in the hours that followed would prove beyond any doubt that God sees everything his children attempt to conceal. No matter how deeply they bury their pain, or how convincingly they perform strength, they do not actually possess.

Jim’s weathered hands gripped the wooden armrest of his chair. Knuckles pale against the dark grain. Morning light filtered through tall pines surrounding his secluded property, casting shifting shadows across the room where both men sat facing each other. Jonathan occupied the bench opposite him, appearing relaxed but quietly sensing something significant lurking beneath the surface of what he had assumed would be a casual meeting between two actors who had both portrayed Christ on screen.

separated by two decades and vastly different formats. The man who had endured the brutal filming of the Passion of the Christ felt his jaw tighten involuntarily. That familiar gesture before delivering difficult truth, except this time the battle was entirely internal, waging between protective silence and divine obedience to speak what had been entrusted to him.

Jonathan, Jim began, his voice carrying the gravitas of someone who had walked through fire and emerged fundamentally changed. What I’m about to share with you is going to sound completely impossible. I need you to understand that before I continue, he paused deliberately, his intense blue eyes locking onto the younger actor’s face with unwavering focus. 3 weeks ago, I had a dream.

Not an ordinary dream that fades with morning coffee. The kind that wakes you at 3:00 in the morning with your heart hammering against your ribs and tears streaming down your face. The kind where you know with absolute certainty that something real happened in the spiritual realm, something that transcends the boundaries between heaven and earth.

Jonathan leaned forward instinctively, his hands folding in that contemplative gesture viewers of the chosen had come to recognize. But this was not the character he portrayed. This was the man himself, fully present and listening with growing intensity. Outside, wind moved through the towering pines, creating a sound like distant waves.

Jim’s German Shepherd lifted its head briefly from where it lay near the fireplace, seeming to sense the atmospheric shift, then settled back down with a soft exhale. In this dream, Jim continued, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. I was standing in a place that defied description.

Not quite earth, not quite heaven, somewhere between. The light was different. Alive somehow, pulsing with presence rather than merely illuminating space. He stopped, allowing the words to settle. I heard footsteps behind me. And when I turned, Jesus was standing there. Not the version I portrayed in the passion, not any artistic representation.

Him actually present, actually real. Jim’s voice cracked slightly despite his attempt at control. He looked at me and spoke my name. Not Jim. James. The way my mother said it when I was a child. And he said something that made my blood run cold and my heart burn simultaneously. James, my faithful witness.

I have a message that must be delivered. You’re the only one who can carry it because you’re the only one he’ll believe it from. You understand the weight he carries because you’ve carried it yourself. Jim stopped abruptly, letting the prophetic words hover in the space between them.

I asked him, “Whoa, Lord, who needs to hear this message?” And that’s when I saw you, Jonathan. Clear as I’m seeing you now. The color visibly drained from Jonathan’s face, leaving him pale beneath his naturally olive complexion. His folded hands began trembling slightly.

Whatever he had anticipated from this meeting between two men who had both portrayed Jesus Christ on screen, “It certainly was not this. You were in that same impossible place,” Jim said, his voice gaining strength now that the foundation had been laid. “But you were on your knees, shoulders shaking like you were carrying something so heavy it was crushing you beneath its weight.

” Jesus walked past me without another word, knelt beside you and placed his hand on your shoulder in a gesture so tender it made me weep. Tears began spilling down Jim’s weathered cheeks, following familiar paths carved by years of similar moments. He said something I wasn’t certain I was supposed to hear, but I know now with absolute conviction that I was meant to remember every word to deliver it to you today.

In this moment, Jonathan’s breathing became visibly shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Jim,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “What did he say?” The rooms seem to fill with a thick, undeniable presence, the kind that makes every cell in your body recognize you are standing on holy ground, witnessing something that transcends ordinary human experience.

He said, “Jim measured each word with surgical precision, speaking slowly and deliberately.” Jonathan, my beloved son, I see the burden you’ve been carrying in complete isolation. The one you haven’t told anyone about. The one you believe disqualifies you from portraying me. The one that makes you weep when no one is watching.

Jim watched Jonathan’s face transform rapidly from confusion to shock to something resembling terror mixed with overwhelming relief. Then Jesus said something that made me understand why he chose me specifically to deliver this message. He said, “Tell James to tell you this directly. Your secret doesn’t disqualify you from this calling. It’s precisely the reason I chose you.

Only someone who knows brokenness intimately can authentically show my healing. Only someone who understands darkness can genuinely reveal light. Jonathan’s hands flew to his face as a sob tore from his throat. With such force, it seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest. His body shook violently, not with fear or shame alone, but with the overwhelming rush of being truly seen by the god he had been portraying for millions, while simultaneously hiding from one person. The carefully constructed mask he had maintained for years crumbled instantly under the

weight of impossible love delivered through the most unlikely messenger imaginable. “How could you possibly know?” Jonathan choked out, his voice muffled behind his hands. I never told anyone, not my family, not my closest friends. Not my spiritual director. How could you know? Jim crossed the small distance between them, placing a firm hand on Jonathan’s trembling shoulder, unconsciously repeating the exact gesture Jesus had made in the dream. I couldn’t know.

Brother, Jim said, his own voice thick with emotion threatening to overwhelm him. There’s no possible way I could know through any natural means. But he knows. He’s always known everything. And he loves you so profoundly, so completely that he gave this broken actor who portrayed him 20 years ago a dream just so you would know with absolute certainty that you’re not alone in this struggle.

The morning sun shifted position across the Washington sky, but neither man registered the change. They existed in a moment outside normal time. A sacred space where heaven had invaded earth with purpose and precision. The secret that had haunted Jonathan for years. The burden that made him question his worthiness daily. The hidden pain that drove him to his knees in darkness.

Weeping where no one could see. All of it now held in divine light, spoken aloud by a man who had no earthly way of knowing any of it. Jim, Jonathan said finally, lowering his hands slowly, his eyes red and swollen, but somehow simultaneously brighter than they had been moments before.

I need to hear everything, every single detail, because if God went to this much extraordinary trouble to reach me, if he gave you this specific dream, then I need to know all of it.” Jim nodded slowly, settling back into his chair. I’ll tell you everything he showed me, but know this before I continue.

what Jesus revealed to me about you, about your calling, about why this burden isn’t an obstacle, but actually your primary qualification for this role. It’s going to fundamentally change how you see everything. Your past, your present, your future, your pain, your purpose, your calling. Jonathan wiped his face with both hands, taking a shuddering breath. I think I’ve been waiting my entire life for someone to tell me what you’re about to tell me,” he said. A broken laugh escaping.

I just never imagined it would come through Jim Cavisle in a forest in Washington. And with tears still wet on both their faces, and the morning stretching before them filled with sacred possibility, the real conversation was about to begin.

The conversation that would unlock secrets carefully guarded, heal wounds festering in darkness, and prove once again that God still speaks with clarity, still reaches into the deepest places of human pain, still pursues his children with a relentless love that will use anyone, anything, any means necessary to make absolutely certain they know this truth. You are completely seen.

You are fully known. You are unconditionally loved. The silence that followed carried weight. Pregnant with holy anticipation, Jim stood and walked to the large window overlooking the dense forest surrounding his property, staring out at the towering evergreens that had witnessed countless hours of his own prayers and struggles.

Jonathan remained seated, wiping his eyes repeatedly, trying unsuccessfully to compose himself. The German Shepherd padded over and rested its massive head on Jonathan’s knee, offering comfort that felt divinely orchestrated. “Before I tell you the rest of what Jesus showed me,” Jim said without turning from the window.

“As back to Jonathan, creating a posture that somehow made the confession easier.” “You need to understand my journey. You need to know why God chose me as his messenger.” He turned slowly. Afternoon light creating a silhouette around his frame. People see Jim Cavisel, the actor who portrayed Jesus in the Passion of the Christ. They see the movie, the acclaim, the cultural impact. What they don’t see is what it cost.

What I carried afterward, what I’m still carrying. Jonathan listened intently, instinctively sensing this context mattered crucially to understanding what would come next. When Mel Gibson first approached me about playing Jesus, Jim continued, moving back toward his chair, but remaining standing.

I was terrified, not of the physical demands, though those proved more brutal than I could have imagined. I was terrified of the spiritual weight of attempting to portray the son of God, of potentially misrepresenting him to millions. His voice softened, taking on a quality of painful memory. I prayed for months before accepting the role.

I told God I couldn’t do it unless he promised to guide every moment, every word, every gesture. And he did guide me. But what I didn’t understand then was that carrying that role would mark me forever. Jim sat on the edge of his chair. Closer now to Jonathan. During filming, I was struck by lightning twice. I suffered hypothermia so severe they thought I might die.

I dislocated my shoulder during the crucifixion scenes. I endured wounds that left scars I still carry. and those were just the physical costs. He paused, his jaw working as if chewing on difficult words before spitting them out. The spiritual and emotional cost was far greater. After the passion released, I couldn’t separate myself from the role. People looked at me differently.

Hollywood treated me differently. Some doors opened, but many more slammed shut. I was no longer just an actor. I had become something else. Something I didn’t fully understand. Jonathan nodded slowly, recognition flooding his features. The weight of representing him. Exactly. Jim pointed at him emphatically. That crushing weight of knowing millions of people’s understanding of Jesus is being shaped by your portrayal.

The terror that you’ll get it wrong. the constant question, “Am I worthy of this? How can someone as broken as me attempt to show the face of God?” He leaned forward intensely. That’s why I reached out to you, Jonathan. When the chosen started and I saw your portrayal of Jesus, I recognized immediately what you were experiencing. I saw the weight you were carrying.

I wanted to talk to you about it, to share what I’d learned, to warn you about the spiritual warfare that comes with this calling. Jim paused significantly. But God had a completely different agenda. He knew what was coming. He knew about the dream that would change everything for both of us.

His eyes grew distant, focusing on something beyond the room. It happened on Tuesday night, April 9th. I had been praying that entire evening, asking the same question I’d been asking for months, Lord, what do you want from me now? How do I use whatever years I have left? What’s my purpose beyond what I’ve already done? He stood again, too energized by the memory to remain seated. I went to bed around 10 that night.

Before falling asleep, I prayed one more time with desperation. Lord, speak clearly, please. I’m listening. Show me what you want. Around 3:00 in the morning, Jim continued, his hand moving unconsciously to his chest. I woke up gasping for air, heart racing like I had just finished running a marathon, tears streaming down my face. I had this overwhelming sense that I had just been somewhere else, somewhere more real than this reality. His voice intensified.

The dream was so vivid, so detailed, so absolutely clear that I knew immediately this wasn’t my subconscious processing stress or replaying memories. This was God speaking. This was divine revelation. Jim’s movements became more animated. I got out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake my wife, went downstairs to my study, sat there in darkness for 3 hours, writing frantically, desperately trying to capture every detail before any of it could fade. The impossible light, the overwhelming peace mixed with holy fear.

The way Jesus looked at me with eyes that saw straight through to my soul, but loved everything he saw there. He turned sharply to face Jonathan directly. And you, I wrote pages and pages about what I saw happening with you, what Jesus said about your calling, your pain, your secret purpose.

I filled an entire journal because I understood with crystal clarity that every single word mattered, that I couldn’t afford to forget even the smallest detail. Jonathan’s voice emerged barely above a whisper. What else did he show you? Jim, what else did I need to know? Jim walked slowly back to his chair, sitting down heavily.

That’s what I need to tell you now. But first, I need to ask Are you ready? Because once I speak this prophetic word into the light, once you hear what Jesus said specifically about your secret, there’s no going back. You’ll have to make a decision whether to keep hiding in shame or to step fully into what he’s calling you to broken and beloved simultaneously.

Jonathan took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them with visible resolve forming. I’m ready. I’ve been hiding long enough. Whatever he wants to say to me through you, I’m ready to hear it. Jim nodded slowly, respect flooding his weathered features. Then, let me tell you what happened in that place between earth and heaven.

Let me tell you exactly what Jesus said about you and why your greatest source of shame is actually your greatest qualification for this calling. The sun climbed higher outside, casting new patterns of light and shadow through the trees.

Both men felt acutely aware they were standing on holy ground, about to witness something that would echo far beyond this private meeting into the hearts of millions who carried secrets they believe disqualified them from God’s love and purpose. In the dream, Jim began his voice dropping to that tone people use when recounting something profoundly sacred.

After Jesus told me I needed to deliver a message to you, everything shifted dramatically. The place between worlds changed, he continued with increasing intensity. Suddenly, I was standing on a stage, not a physical stage, but something that represented performance. The place where you show the world who you are or who you pretend to be.

And there you were, Jonathan, on your knees, center stage, face buried in your hands, weeping with a grief so deep it made my chest ache, just witnessing it. Jonathan’s breath caught audibly. His fingers gripped the edge of the bench he sat on. “I wanted to call out to you,” Jim said.

wanted to run forward and offer comfort, but no sound would come from my mouth, and my feet were rooted in place. I understood immediately that I was there to witness, not to intervene. I was there to remember, to carry the message back. He leaned forward, voice intensifying. Then Jesus walked past me, not quickly, but with deliberate purpose. He climbed onto that stage where you knelt.

And he knelt beside you. He spoke your name. But not Jonathan. Something else. Something ancient and intimate that I can’t repeat because it’s between you and him alone. What name? Jonathan whispered, his face draining of color. Jim shook his head gently but firmly. That sacred ground I won’t tread on.

But when he spoke it, you looked up with this expression that will haunt me forever. Terror and relief, shame and hope, like you had been caught in your deepest secret, but also found after being lost for years. The room’s atmosphere grew increasingly heavy with presence. Jonathan’s hands trembled visibly against his knees. Jesus placed both his hands on your shoulders.

Jim demonstrated the gesture physically. reaching forward as if placing his own hands on invisible shoulders. And he said words that made me understand why I had to remember everything with perfect precision. He paused for emphasis. He said, “My son, why do you think I didn’t know about this? Why do you believe I chose you despite this burden when the truth is I chose you because of it?” Jim let that sink in before continuing.

Then he said something that made me grab my journal the moment I woke up and write it down word for word. He said, “Jonathan, you’ve been portraying me for millions while carrying a weight that makes you feel like a complete fraud. You think your struggle disqualifies you from this sacred calling. But listen to me carefully. I chose you specifically because you know what it means to desperately need me.

An actor who had everything together, who never struggled, could never show my grace authentically. Only someone who needs grace desperately can reveal it genuinely. A sob tore from Jonathan’s throat, raw and unfiltered. His head dropped forward, shoulders shaking with the force of years of suppressed emotion, finally breaking through. “There’s more,” Jim said gently but insistently. “Jesus told you.

Every time you feel unworthy to speak my words, remember this truth. I don’t call the qualified to do my work. I qualify the called. Your brokenness isn’t your disqualification. It’s your credential, your authorization, your ordination. Only the broken can show others how I make things whole. Only the wounded can minister healing.

Only the desperate can demonstrate grace. Jonathan’s hands covered his face completely. His body racked with sobs that seemed to come from a place deeper than conscious thought. Years of feeling like an impostor. Years of wondering if God had made a terrible mistake choosing him. Years of performing strength while feeling shattered inside.

All of it breaking apart under the weight of impossible. Relentless grace. Jim’s hand rested on Jonathan’s back, letting him weep without interruption. After several minutes, he continued quietly. Jesus showed me something else. He showed me millions of people, all carrying secrets exactly like yours.

All feeling disqualified, all hiding in shame. And he said, “These are the ones who need to see Jonathan’s portrayal of me, not because he’s perfect. but because he understands them. His tears are real because his pain is real. His compassion is authentic because his wounds are genuine. I can’t.

Jonathan choked out between sobs. I can’t be what people think I am. I’m too broken, too damaged, too far from what they imagine. That’s exactly what you said in the dream. Jim replied immediately, word for word. And do you know what Jesus did when you said that? Jonathan looked up desperately. Tears streaming. Needing an answer like a drowning man needs air. He smiled.

Jim said, his own eyes filling with tears again. Like a father watching his child finally begin to understand something crucial. And he said, “Jonathan, you’re not carrying the calling. I am. You’re not bearing the burden alone. I already carried it to the cross and through the grave.

All I’m asking is that you let me love you as much as you let me love others through you. The words struck Jonathan like a physical blow to the chest. His entire life he had been giving serving, helping others encounter Jesus through his portrayal. But had he ever truly allowed Jesus to encounter him in his brokenness? Had he ever really received what he was helping others find? Then Jesus did something I’ll never forget as long as I live.

Jim whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out and touched the place where you were carrying your secret. I can’t say where specifically because that’s between you and him, but it was like he touched the very center of your shame, the core of your hidden pain, and light poured from his hand into you like liquid healing. Jim’s voice strengthened with authority.

He said, “This secret you’ve been hiding, I’m going to transform it into your testimony. The shame you carry, I’m transmuting it into your strength. This burden you believed would destroy your calling is actually the foundation of it. Your ministry will flow from this wound. Not in spite of it, but through it.

” Jonathan sat frozen, unable to speak or move. The God he had been portraying with such care, had actually seen him, known him completely, and instead of rejecting him was calling him deeper into purpose through his pain. “One more thing,” Jesus said. Jim continued, his voice carrying prophetic weight. He said, “Tell James to tell Jonathan this. I’ve been preparing him since before he was born for this exact calling.

every struggle, every failure, every moment of shame. I was weaving all of it into a tapestry he can’t see yet from his limited perspective. But soon, very soon, he’ll understand the pattern. And when he does, nothing will ever be the same again.” Jonathan looked up, his face ravaged by tears, but somehow transformed by being truly known and unconditionally loved at the same time. Jim.

His voice emerged but steady underneath the emotion. I need to tell you what the secret is. I need to speak it aloud for the first time. Because if Jesus went to this much extraordinary trouble to tell me he knows, then I need to stop hiding it in darkness. Jim nodded slowly, his expression showing no judgment. Only compassion born from his own battles. Only if you’re ready, brother.

Only if you’re genuinely prepared. Jonathan took a shuddering breath, wiped his face with both hands, and for the first time in years, prepared to speak the truth he had been suffocating under. The truth Jesus already knew intimately. The truth that instead of disqualifying him was about to become a lifeline for millions hiding in similar darkness.

The Washington Morning held its breath with them. Waiting for the secret to finally come into healing light. Jonathan’s mouth opened, then closed again. The words seemed physically trapped by years of accumulated fear and shame. Jim waited with infinite patience. No pressure in his eyes or posture.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity compressed into seconds, Jonathan spoke. “I struggle with crippling depression,” he said. His voice barely audible at first. Severe debilitating depression that some days makes me want to disappear completely while I’m simultaneously showing Jesus’s joy and abundant life to millions of viewers worldwide.

The confession emerged slowly, painfully, like extracting an embedded thorn. I take medication daily. I see a therapist twice a week. Some mornings I literally cannot feel anything. Not hope, not faith, not even God’s presence. And I’ve been absolutely terrified that if people knew this truth, they would call me a hypocrite, a fraud.

They would say, “I have no business portraying Jesus when I can’t even hold on to basic joy myself.” The words hung suspended in the air like a weight finally released after years of crushing pressure. Jim’s expression revealed no shock, no disappointment, only deepening compassion mixed with recognition. And you believed that disqualified you,” Jim said softly.

“More statement than question. How could it not? Jonathan’s voice cracked. How can someone who can barely get out of bed some mornings? Who fights suicidal thoughts? Who takes medication just to function? How can that person presume to show the face of God to the world? Jim leaned forward with sudden intensity and purpose. Because that’s exactly what Jesus showed me next in the dream.

After he spoke those words to you, the scene shifted dramatically. We were standing on a hillside overlooking thousands of people spread out below us like a human sea. Jonathan wiped his eyes roughly. Focusing on Jim’s words, Jesus pointed to the crowd and said, “James, look closely. Tell me what you see.” Jim continued, his voice gaining strength.

At first, I just saw people, but then he did something to my vision. And suddenly I could see differently. Some had visible shadows clinging to their shoulders like parasites. Others had chains wrapped around their ankles, invisible to normal sight, but completely real. Many were bent over double, carrying invisible burdens that crushed them. Jim’s intensity increased.

Jesus said, “These are my children who struggle with depression, with anxiety, with mental illness of every kind. They sit in churches feeling completely alone in their suffering. They sing worship songs while simultaneously battling thoughts of ending their lives. They serve me faithfully while wondering constantly if I even see their pain.

” Jonathan’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. This was his story. This was his secret congregation. Then Jesus said something that absolutely shook me. Jim’s voice trembled with the memory. He said, “James, I didn’t choose Jonathan despite his depression. I chose him specifically because of it.

When he portrays my compassion for the suffering, it’s not acting technique. It’s remembering his own suffering. When he shows my tears for the broken, they come from his own brokenness. When he reveals my understanding for those who struggle to believe, he’s drawing from his midnight battles with doubt and darkness. A sound escaped Jonathan. Half laugh, half sob.

The sound of something locked breaking open. Jesus told me, Jim said with growing passion, that the world doesn’t need another perfect portrayal of him. The world is drowning in religious performance and spiritual pretense. What the world desperately needs is to see him through broken vessels who need a savior every single day, who wake up needing grace, who fight to believe, who take medication and go to therapy and still choose faith.

He stood unable to contain the energy of the message. He said, “Jonathan’s depression is not his weakness that needs to be overcome to do ministry. It is his ministry.” Every person sitting in darkness watching the chosen will see themselves reflected in his eyes and think, “If Jesus loves him through that struggle, maybe Jesus could love me through my struggle, too.

” Jonathan stood abruptly, pacing like a caged animal, suddenly seeing potential escape. But I feel like such a fraud when I’m speaking his lines about abundant life and living water while I’m dying inside. That’s not fraud, Jim interrupted forcefully. Decades of his own battles, giving authority to his words. That’s faith.

That’s declaring truth even when you can’t feel it. That’s being a witness to who he is even when you can’t feel who you are. That’s worship at its purest. He moved closer. Standing face to face with Jonathan. Jesus showed me every day you’ve dragged yourself to set despite the crushing darkness. Every time you’ve spoken his words of hope while having none of your own.

Every scene you’ve filmed while fighting to stay alive inside. And he said, “This is true worship, not easy belief when everything feels good, but determined trust when everything in you wants to quit. This is the faith that moves me.” Jonathan stopped pacing, turning to face Jim with tears still flowing. He really said that those specific words. He said more.

Jim replied gently. He said, “Tell Jonathan that every tear he’s cried alone in darkness. I’ve collected in my bottle. Every morning he’s chosen to live when death felt easier. I’ve celebrated in heaven. Every medication he takes isn’t weak faith. It’s wisdom. Every therapy session isn’t defeat, it’s courage.

And I am so profoundly proud of him for fighting when no one sees the battle. Jonathan’s legs seemed to give out beneath him. He sank back onto the bench. Overwhelmed. Those exact words, Jim confirmed with absolute certainty. He said, “I’m proud of my son, Jonathan, for fighting battles most will never see. For serving when serving costs him everything.

For showing my face while carrying pain most people will never understand.” They stood in golden afternoon light streaming through Washington Pines. Both men undone by God’s relentless pursuing love that invades darkness and calls shame into strength. “One more thing,” Jim said quietly but firmly.

Jesus said, “Your depression isn’t something I’m necessarily going to remove. Not yet. Maybe never in this life. It’s something I’m using.” Your story of fighting through darkness while portraying light will save lives. When you share this publicly, millions who thought they were disqualified because of mental health struggles will realize, “If God can use Jonathan Roomie, broken and medicated and in therapy, then maybe God can use me, too.” Jonathan looked up, hope dawning through devastation.

“When I share this publicly,” his voice carried both fear and emerging resolve. Jim smiled. The expression of someone delivering a life-changing message he knows will cost everything and give back even more. That’s the beautiful part, brother. You’re not supposed to portray Jesus the same way anymore. You’re not acting anymore. Now you’re testifying.

Now you’re showing him not as a character you play, but as the savior who holds you when you can’t hold yourself. The word testifying hung between them like a bridge from one life to another. From hiding to freedom, from shame to purpose, Jonathan sat motionless, letting it penetrate every layer of his being.

For years, he had been performing like acutely aware of the gap between the character and the man. Now that gap was closing, not because he had become perfect, but because he had been seen in his imperfection and called beloved anyway. The conversation continued for hours as Jim shared every detail of the dream and Jonathan began the painful, beautiful work of stepping out of hiding into light.

What neither man fully realized in that moment was that their stories, intertwined by divine design, would soon impact millions. That Jonathan’s courage to go public with his depression would spark a movement. that Jim’s obedience to deliver an impossible message would shatter stigma and shame across the global church. The sun moved across the Washington sky.

The German shepherd slept peacefully near the fireplace, and two men who had both carried the weight of portraying Christ discovered that the God they had represented on screen was more real, more present, and more committed to their healing than they had dared to imagine.

When Jonathan finally left Jim’s property late that afternoon, he was fundamentally different than when he had arrived. The secret had been spoken. The burden had been shared. The shame had been met with love, and a new chapter was beginning, one where his greatest weakness would become his most powerful testimony. In the days that followed, Jonathan returned to the chosen set with renewed clarity.

The depression didn’t disappear. Some mornings remained brutal battles. But now he fought knowing his struggle was sacred, not shameful. His brokenness was not disqualifying him from the calling. It was authenticating his portrayal in ways nothing else could. Jim and Jonathan stayed in close contact, speaking regularly, becoming brothers in a shared understanding that transcended their age difference and the decades separating their portrayals of Christ.

They encouraged each other on difficult days, reminded each other of the prophetic words spoken in that dream, and prepared for what they both knew was coming, the moment when Jonathan would go public with his depression and mental health struggles. The decision to share his story came during a podcast interview months later.

Jonathan, with Jim’s support and prayer, spoke openly for the first time about his battle with depression, about the medication, about the therapy, about the days he could barely function while millions watched him portray joy and abundant life. The response overwhelmed both men. Within hours, thousands of messages flooded in.

Not condemnation as Jonathan had feared for years, but gratitude, liberation, hope. Your vulnerability gave me permission to be honest. One message read, “I’ve been hiding my depression for 10 years, suffering in silence. Today, I told my pastor, I’m getting help. Thank you for your courage.” Another wrote, “I was planning to end my life this week. I had it all planned.

Then I heard your testimony. If the man who plays Jesus fights depression and God still uses him powerfully, maybe there’s hope for me, too. I’m going to keep fighting.” The messages continued pouring in from every continent. Pastors who had been hiding their own mental health struggles. Worship leaders who sang of joy while battling suicidal thoughts.

Missionaries who served faithfully while privately falling apart. All finding permission to be honest because Jonathan had been honest first. Churches began creating mental health ministries. Christian conferences started including sessions on depression and anxiety. The stigma that had silenced millions began cracking, creating space for honesty instead of performance.

Jim watched the movement unfold with deep satisfaction. Knowing he had been obedient to an impossible dream, he began speaking more openly about his own struggles, about the cost of carrying the weight of portraying Christ in the passion, about learning that vulnerability wasn’t weakness, but worship. The two actors, separated by decades and different mediums, had become prophets of a different kind.

Not predicting the future, but revealing the present truth that God loves broken people, uses wounded vessels, and specializes in transforming shame into strength. Sometimes I still can’t fully believe God spoke to you in a dream about my secret. Jonathan confessed during one of their regular phone calls that he loved me enough to send such a specific message through Jim Cavisel.

Believe it. Jim replied with unwavering certainty because that’s exactly who God is. He moves heaven and earth to reach his children. He pursues us into the deepest darkness. He uses the most unexpected means to deliver the most necessary messages. Your story is proof of his relentless love.

As months turned into years, the impact continued rippling outward. The chosen itself began incorporating more realistic portrayals of human struggle and divine grace. Conversations about mental health in Christian contexts became more common, more honest, less stigmatized. Jonathan’s depression didn’t vanish. The struggle remained real.

But now it served a purpose beyond his private suffering. Now it connected him to millions who fought similar battles. Now it authenticated his portrayal of a savior who understands human weakness because he experienced it himself. Jim Cavisel and Jonathan Roomie, two men who had both carried the weight of portraying Jesus Christ, had discovered something profound. The calling wasn’t about being worthy enough to represent him.

It was about being broken enough to need him, honest enough to admit it, and willing enough to let that brokenness become a bridge for others to cross from shame to grace. Their friendship became a testimony in itself. regular conversations where they encouraged each other, prayed for each other, reminded each other that vulnerability was strength and weakness was the doorway to divine power.

When Jim faced criticism for his openness, Jonathan reminded him of the dream. When Jonathan battled particularly dark days, Jim reminded him of what Jesus said, “Your depression is your ministry.” The movement Jesus had prophesied was indeed growing. Not through programs or initiatives, but through courage spreading personto person. One honest conversation inspiring another.

One testimony giving permission for another. The body of Christ slowly gradually beginning to look more like its wounded, scarred, resurrected savior. And through it all, the dream remained. Jim kept the journal where he had written every detail that early morning. He returned to it regularly, reminding himself of the sacred trust he had been given.

Jonathan kept a copy of those pages, reading them on difficult days when the depression made him question everything again. Years after that April morning in Washington, both men would reflect on the moment that changed everything. For Jim, it was learning that his suffering through the passion had not been meaningless, but had prepared him to recognize Jonathan’s suffering and deliver a divine message.

For Jonathan, it was the overwhelming realization that his deepest shame was his greatest qualification. The world had needed to hear their story. Not a story of two perfect actors flawlessly portraying Jesus, but a story of two broken men chosen to represent a savior who loves broken people, who uses cracked vessels, who pours light through wounds, who transforms depression into testimony and shame into strength. Their message was simple but revolutionary.

God doesn’t need your performance. He needs your honesty. He doesn’t require your perfection. He wants your willingness. Your weakness doesn’t disqualify you. It positions you perfectly for grace. And that message delivered first through an impossible dream and two men courageous enough to believe it continued spreading like fire through dry grass, igniting hope in every heart that had believed the lie that brokenness meant disqualification. The dream Jim Cavisel had received was never meant to remain private. It was

meant to be shared, to spark a movement, to shatter stigma, to free millions from hiding. And that’s exactly what happened because God still speaks. God still pursues. God still uses the most unexpected means to deliver the most life-saving messages. And the message delivered to Jonathan Roomie through Jim Cavisel was this.

Your depression doesn’t disqualify you. It authenticates you. Your struggle isn’t your weakness. It’s your ministry. Your brokenness isn’t your shame. It’s your strength. And the God you portray loves you. Not despite your mental illness, but through it, with it, in the midst of it. That message changed one man’s life that April morning in Washington.

but through his courage to share it, through Jim’s obedience to deliver it. That message has since changed millions of lives around the world. And it continues changing lives today. Every time someone hears it and dares to believe that maybe, just maybe, they too are qualified by their very brokenness to experience and share God’s relentless, pursuing, transforming grace.