God-Sized Dreams: Part One
For a complete emotional experience, I highly recommend listening to this song as you read.
I want a kayak.
A brightly-colored, single-passenger kayak to take to the lake so I can paddle out and be with God in the quiet.
Of course, I'd need to live by a lake for that to make sense.
But one day I will.
Until then, I'll dream of it a little and let my heart flutter when I think of picking it up from the store or a stranger from Craigslist and learning how to strap it to the roof of my car.
So. What are your dreams? What makes your heart flutter?
Think of the little dreams (like my kayak). Think of the realistic dreams (like buying your first house or paying off your college debt).
And then, think of the God-sized ones.
The ones you dismiss as less important or worthy of prayer.
The ones you keep to yourself because they are too vulnerable to share with others.
The ones that steal your breath away with awe and fear at the same time.
The ones that you've become cynical or bitter towards.
The ones you think are completely impossible in your lifetime.
The ones you constantly doubt are God-given.
The ones that keep you awake at night.
The ones that make you cry.
What are those for you?
Go ahead, call them up and name them, one by one. Get honest with yourself.
What are the dreams inside your heart that have been lying dormant, or repressed, or shamed, or unspoken? What are the dreams that make your heart dance? The ones you're afraid to pray for because... what if they aren't for you?
I get it. I so get it.
I've had many tear-filled nights praying over the things in my heart that seem too big, too vulnerable to speak up about, too selfish, too extravagant to bless a sinner with.
I've knocked on God's door like the persistent widow (Luke 18:1-8), asking God why others but not me? I've cried and I've cried as I've asked that.
Is it because I let you down?
Is it because I'm not worthy of something so beautiful?
Is it because I haven't performed well enough?
Is it because I did something wrong?
The questions are endless and sometimes the tears exhaust me so much that I fall asleep in the middle of my heartbroken prayers.
I don't have the answers to your God-sized dreams for you. I wish I did.
All I can tell you is that you're not alone. I've wept too.
I've felt the sting around my eyes as the saltwater dries down. I've felt the cool splash of water on my hot, red face. I've felt the dehydration headaches and the stuffy nose.
But I've also felt such an intimacy with God when I get to that place.
Somehow, when I wake up the next morning after falling asleep in the middle of my sorrow, I feel held. I realize I've been cradled and rocked to bed. Tenderly shushed. I know he's been present with me.
I'm tearing up right now just thinking about it.
When I'm at my lowest, most breakable point... questioning my worth, comparing my story to someone else's, wondering if I deserve to be loved or blessed...
He's with me. Wrapping his arms around me.
He sees. Oh, he sees.
His heart envelops my heart.
And we are together.
He knows my small dreams. He knows all my realistic, manageable dreams. The ones I can achieve all on my own.
And he knows my big, God-sized dreams.
And he isn't afraid of them.
He isn't afraid to name them.
He isn't afraid of my human emotions that come with them.
He isn't afraid of my tears or my vulnerability.
He isn't afraid of my darkness or the sleepless nights.
He welcomes me into his heart, regardless of where and when and what I am in the moment.
He cares about the biggest dreams that I've been holding in.
And he cares about me.