Hesitant Dreamers

Dreams are like gifts you can hold in your hands.  They are yours to hold, to cultivate, to cherish. But at the same time they are the Lord’s.  They are given to borrow. Not to own.

I hold my dreams in my hands and wonder what they will become.  Sometimes I cling to them with both fists. Desperate to keep them.  Desperate to make them what I want them to be. I squeeze and grip. I try to mold it into the shape that I want, hoping it fits in the space I create for it.  But those dreams are not mine to shape.

Sometimes the dream is a seed that I water, coaxing it to grow.  Be careful and do not drown it. Water with patience and steadiness.

Sometimes as I hold it in my palm and watch as it finally begins to grow before my eyes.  If it grows bigger than my hands can hold, I grip again. Because what will I do if it gets bigger than I can manage.

Sometimes dreams are more like clouds.  Vague wisps of ideas not fully formed. When I reach for it, my fingers slip through and it drifts away again.  I chase it as it drifts on winds of circumstances, sometimes drawing it close enough to touch and other times pushing far out of my grasp.

Sometimes they are more like make believe and child’s games.  I want to rid myself of them. To pack them into boxes and fill basements and closets with them.  Out of sight and out of mind.

Dreams and desires are funny things. Both motivating and frustrating.  They can move us into action when they come into focus. They can stop us in our tracks when they are fuzzy and unformed.

Dreams become heavy as bricks when they are clutched too tightly, or when they are ignored altogether.

Dreams can bring joy and praise, but they can also bring despair and longing when left waiting.

Either way, a dream is a gift from the Lord.  An offering to be given back to the Giver. He can be worshipped in the fulfilling and in the waiting.  He can be praised, no matter the outcome.

The dream is not about you.  It’s not even about the dream itself.  But about the Giver. The Creator. The Provider.  The Fulfiller.

Sometimes I hold my dream and hear a whisper.  “Give that back, it wasn’t meant for you.” My mind immediately replays all my failures, all my weakness.  And I loosen my grip and look around for somewhere to put it for safekeeping.

“Here Giver.  I think you meant this for someone else.”

“No child that was meant for you.”

“Really?  Are you sure?  I sure would like it, but I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Our dreams are never wasted.  But sometimes they leave us longing.  Longing for something not yet fulfilled.

And that feels cruel in some moments.  We search for reasons. Our circumstances.  Our inabilities. Or search for a way to speed up the process.  

But our dreams are not ours.  They are the Lord’s. And He has good plans for them.  Plans to lift your eyes to Him. In the waiting and the fulfilling.  

So when you feel weary, look up.  Offer it back. Tell Him what you wish for it.  And Allow Him to make it beautiful.

But in His time and His way.