These dreams aren't really mine. They don't belong to me. Not yet, anyway. They are the dreams that God has whispered to my heart. Over time, through the years, during the days that span my life. Very old, long-held dreams and sprightly, newer ones, too.
Dreams I can’t stop thinking about, even when I close my eyes at night.
Dreams that God reminds me of in a million little ways that are so meaningful to me, it takes my breath away.
Dreams that make me wonder how the God of this enormous marvelous world could want to pursue me with his love so that I would follow him.
Like pinpoints on a map, I ponder the markers he's already posted just for me on this journey. The answered prayers, the miracles, the little pieces of his plan that I catch a glimpse of, knowing that he's at work in my life.
I tuck these God-moments away, engraved as keepsakes on my heart.
But these things sound silly when I talk about them. I feel a little crazy when I speak the words out loud.
And although I'm absolutely certain that God is rearranging the things in my life I thought were immovable, I'm not sure it even makes sense to me.
These dreams are nerve-racking too. They make my knees quake and my heart beat faster. Because I have no idea how in the world they can possibly come true.
So I get confused.
I’m notorious for gathering the opinions of others for the areas of my life where I don’t feel confident. I need advice. I ask for their input.
What do you think it means? I question, eagerly hanging on their answer. What would you do? I’m eager to know, sure it will shed some light on my dilemma.
Last weekend, while my seven-year-old niece Devon and I were eating chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, she wanted to tell me about the good dream she had the night before. I told her I couldn't wait to hear it.
She said it was about Star Wars and she was Luke Skywalker.
Since her brother is a Lego Star Wars fanatic, I wasn’t surprised that she dreamed about Star Wars. Or that she thought it was a good dream.
But then she said sometimes she has a bad dream. About deer.
Since her dad is an avid hunter and three larger-than-life deer heads hang in her house, I wasn’t surprised about the deer dream either. But I asked her what was bad about it.
She said she sometimes dreams about the deer who hang around the little pond in our neighborhood. Except they’re not exactly deer. She says these animals in her dream have the body of a deer, the head of a giraffe and are as tall as a llama. She says they scare her.
Then she laughs.
Then she laughs.
"When I talk about it, it sounds kind of funny,” she says. “And not really very scary at all.”
Somehow wrapping words around the fears that follow my dreams around untangles the hold those fears have on my thoughts. And speaking those words out loud further loosens their grip on my heart.
So when fear tells me the dream seems too imposing and I’m inadequate, I say I'm enough.
When fear says the dream needs someone qualified and experienced and I’m just a novice, I say God equips those he calls with everything they need.
When fear says the dream requires someone confident and I’m uncertain, I say that my confidence and courage is found in him.
I keep asking for God’s direction to move where and when he tells me. And even though I don’t know where he may take me, I know there’s no other place I’d rather be than on this God-led passage to somewhere, anywhere or just right here.
My life isn't really about a dream I'm pursuing. I've given all my dreams to God, waiting for him to reveal his plans for me, one little piece at a time.
And if he ever so graciously gives me back one of my dreams, I will know in my grateful heart that only God can make those dreams come true.
I'm on a journey with the God of the universe. It’s amazing and inspiring and the greatest adventure of my life.
I'm linking up with my friends at Holley Gerth's place today with Coffee for your Heart and Bonnie Gray at the Faith Barista. Won't you join me?