Wednesday, June 12, 2013

learning to trust, even when it doesn't make sense

Two dreams, specifically, have been uttered from my mouth through the years and really, I have no business suggesting that I will be a part of them, because really I do not know. Yet, they are mine, these dreams. And I'm beginning to believe He has invited me to live with an anticipation and hope, believing He gave these dreams to me for purpose.

There are other dreams of mine, but they don't surface and tumble out of me like these two wild and crazy visions: adoption, and creating a sports foundation for girls.

When I think of the heart of these dreams, I feel excitement welled up inside of me. I imagine more than what seems possible for today and when I start to talk about the details, none of them make any sense. Dreams like this sound crazy. And really they are. Yet, no matter what I do, the fibers of these dreams don't shake loose, even when I make reckless, foolish and impatient demands of them.

I try to analyze and solve these dreams that stand firmly planted in the *whirl and twirl* of my day. Thinking them over and over again, I spend so much time on the granular details, trying to make sense of them. I've even tried to make them go away, denying the power of God. I've grown impatient in my waiting and wrestled hope to the ground, especially since my life looks to have taken what appears to me as a complete 180.

Details are stress to me. Poison to my raw, purified hope. Figuring out the details of my dreams doesn't add value to my life. I'm learning this.

He jolts me out of a drunken stupor where I am intoxicated by the temptation to figure it all out. I have {finally} begun to accept these dreams as possibilities. Moving beyond the considering to the declaring.

Over time, I've begun to connect my dream-telling with my professional experience. I see how there is purpose in the work I do and consider how my work could be preparing me for something that utilizes these skills I've developed, and most importantly, taps into the talents He specifically created me to live out. 

I am learning to trust and surrender my expectations of Him -- even if my current experiences seem to contradict these wild dream-like visions. God is so much bigger than what I see, and it is in this gap -- this thin place between my experiences and my dreams -- where He wants to fill with hope. An everlasting kind of hope. A peace and shackle-free kind of hope.

I consider what I could miss out on by giving up on hope -- on Him. And it's not the tangible kind of gift or experience I am worried about missing out on, because I do believe He hears my restless heart that longs to be close to Him (yet struggles with anxiousness like humans do). I know I'll never fall out of His will -- He will use all things.

What concerns me most is to miss His closeness. I'm learning that it's this process of waiting for pieces to come together and story pages to unfurl that matters most -- this is when I experience Him more fully. And this is what I am bending low in gratefulness for, the process I have so long regretted and rebuked.

Our lives reflect worship in the most beautiful ways when we give consideration to and deliberately pursue -- the crazy, silly, and irrational -- dreams that seem to follow every turn in our story, and yet may seem completely impossible today.

God is blowing the roof off of my faith these days. He is tearing down the fences I've constructed that limit my capacity to trust.

Hope is wide and deep and far for me. It's beyond rationalization.

What if we deliberately try this, or that? 
What if we explore them? 

I'm doing a lot more of this lately -- speaking dreams out loud and laying them out on the table. I'm considering possibility, declaring, and taking steps to pursue these dreams. And I'm learning to keep on stepping, even when the pursuing involves a change in scenery. This feels a lot like the wilderness -- a bit of a wander, and yet, I'm not lost.

He is a lamp for my feet, providing light for just one step at a time. And though it's sometimes a lot of times uncomfortable to not be able to see ahead, to him He provides just enough.  

I'm trusting that these dreams are for purpose, that they are designed by the God who placed me here -- right now, positioned for Today. 

So I'm learning to be obedient in the small things. Recognizing His voice in all things. And anticipating He is working for good in the good and the bad things.

Only God knows what will come of these dreams. They feel silly to even consider, and sometimes I wonder if it's downright irresponsible of me to fathom. But, as Jennie Allen says, obedience is following and trusting God, even if He doesn't make perfect sense.

And with that, I think of a seemingly-average woman who birthed the Messiah. Crazy is possible.

Dream God-sized Dreams

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  1. Nothing is so sweet as His dream, come true through us. God bless.

  2. Yesterday, I was thinking about that Mary story, and I realized I wanted more information. Did she really simply reply to God with, "OK, Lord. I trust you. Whatever you think is best. Do unto me as you see fit."? Or, was there more of a discussion? Because, that was a pretty big dream God was inviting her to join, you know?

    1. I think she wrestled. I'm certain of it. I read it again yesterday. There's so much wrestling that the people did back then that no one wrote about. I wonder, actually, if they kept to themselves like we do often times -- vulnerability is risky business and it's that part that's so profoundly personal. This conversation has me thinking, friend. :) I like it when you provoke all this in me.

  3. The best dreams are the ones which are "seem silly to even consider". Thanks for pushing us to keep on pushing...