The Distance Between A Dream and A Reality

When I was young, the dreams I dreamed were big....maybe enormous. Weren't yours?

I am not sure when the dreams stopped, but little by little, the disappointments of life drained the life out of them. The things that once brought feelings of excited anticipation, now became missed opportunities and perceived failures.

Each choice along the way seemed to have broken another bridge to the dreams. The realization brings feelings of hopelessness.

Looking back I can see that the dreams I dreamed were solo dreams, and that in itself becomes a problem when two lives join as one. Frustration results as we see our early dreams pass away, and we do not learn to dream together. More and more we can begin to see each other as the reason we can never reach our anticipated potential. Questions rise in our minds about whether we may have made the biggest mistake of our life. On this course, our relationships are destined to fall apart and become yet another unrealized dream.

I don't suggest that all of our early dreams were wrong, in fact, they are what brought us to today. But as we mature, our dreams should also mature. And if we have been joined with another by God, then can we begin to dream the same dream? I don't mean sacrificially giving up everything we want to support another's dreams. What I mean is, our dreams actually changing to be more complete.

For we have not passed our time to dream. We have reached the time to realize our dreams.

And if in our current state we lack inspiration to dream, we have only to ask the Father, the giver of all gifts, for the gift of a dream. One that we can reach for in our today.

Many live in the past and dwell on dreams that have become nothing but transparent webs. While beautiful, they lack the ability to have substance. When we reach for them, they fall away.

Today, I look at a dream, and I smile, for it is not a solo dream. It is more complete, for I am dreaming along with the one I love. I don't have to mourn the lost dreams any longer. I have one who holds my hand and walks toward the dreams with me.

It is perhaps the greatest gift He could have given me in this life. With the exception of my salvation, the gift of a dream is the most vital to the heart of this dreamer.

By letting go of the gossamer threads of early dreams, I can see the bridge that had been hidden by the webs all along. The bridge from the dream to my reality. It is closer than ever before, and I am so much more ready to realize it.

"...when that which is perfect is come, then that which in in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things."

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." I Cor. 13:10-12

As we journey on, may we accept and pursue the more perfect way. What wonder we will know when we finally cross that bridge from our present imperfect dreams to an eternity of perfect reality!

"But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it." Rom. 8:25.

Disappearing Dreams

"We profess to be strangers and pilgrims, seeking after a country of our own, yet we settle down in the most un-stranger-like fashion, exactly as if we were quite at home and meant to stay as long as we could. I don't wonder apostolic miracles have died. Apostolic living certainly has."
— Amy Carmichael

I read the above words and immediately knew the truth in them. They resonated within my heart and I said, "Yes, Lord." For sometimes the Lord takes from us what we cling to on this earth. He did with me.

To settle down was just exactly what I wanted in this world. Like most women, I longed for the home, white picket fence and all. And for awhile, I thought that I had it. But the truth of the matter is that it had me.

There was no time or energy left for thinking on Him or furthering His work. My life revolved around keeping alive the dream that I had spun. I truly felt that if I lost that dream, I would be a failure. Life would have no meaning. I suppose from the earthly glasses I was looking through, that might be the case.

I am so blessed to have a gracious God who saw me grasping at shallow dreams, and rescued me from them. The dreams I had spun became more and more of nightmare quality. Yet it only caused me to cling more tightly to the illusion.

By that time, I had tuned out the whisperings of the Holy Spirit for so long that I was deaf to them. The Lord needed to reach me through "the outside" for I was no longer a vessel He could reach from within. I don't mean to limit His power, for it is limitless, but He will not force us from within. We always have a choice. I had made mine. He could have left me there.

One by one He pried my stiff fingers from around the dreams I clung to. He knew that what I held onto was garbage compared to the beautiful, fulfilling life He wanted to give to me. In my stubbornness and pride, I grasped, even as my dreams fell away.

Pain. He allowed me to feel the agonizing pain that comes from losing nearly all of your worldly possessions. More than the possessions, though, the pain came from the loss of dreams long dreamed.

Left with little that those around would consider of value, I was faced with the crux of the issue.

"Now child, with these other distractions removed, what will you do with Me?"

We always have a choice. Maybe not about our circumstances, but always about where we place our trust. Who we will serve.

I look at my little rented home, and at the rusty old van that we ride in, and I say "Thank-you, Lord. Thank-you for not giving up on me. Thank-you for reminding me that I am but a pilgrim on this earth. I'm only camping. My dream home will come later. Use me now, even today, Lord Jesus. Change me, teach me, use me. I am yours."

"But in a great house there are not only vessels gold and of silver, but also of wood and of earth: and some to honour, and some to dishonour. If a man therefore purge himself from these, he shall be a vessel unto honour, sanctified, and meet for the master's use, and prepared unto every good work." (II Tim. 2:20, 21)