In the days leading up to the first moments of 2012, the idealist in me was full of good ideas -- no, great ideas -- for how I was going to do things differently this year, how I would make real changes that would matter, that would change my life both inside and out. But I never actually got around to writing them down or defining them any further than simply making a mental note of what I hoped to accomplish this year. I dragged my feet when it came to that; it was as if I was rebelling against new years' resolutions or goal-setting with an attitude that seems to think it doesn't really matter anyway. I'm fine the way I am, aren't I? Do I really have to make changes? And if I do, who says New Year's Day is the "right" or "best" time to start? And yet, here I am, three days into the new year, finally forcing myself to sit down and define my dreams for this year.
Defining dreams is pretty important, I think. Writing them down, giving the unspoken desires deep within your heart words that take up space outside of yourself, that gives the dream a bit of substance, doesn't it? It makes it seem as though perhaps you might actually see that dream come true. It motivates to action. It gives direction to decisions.
This year, I waver between feeling as though my dreams are far too lofty to be attainable and feeling as though my dreams aren't nearly big or important enough. The more I thought about the disparity between these two thoughts, the more I realized it is caused by a cocktail of desire & destiny and self-doubt & faithlessness.
As I was putting Adeline down for her morning nap today, I pondered this as I rocked her back and forth. It was not lost on me that I do that rocking motion in my thought life every day, sometimes without even realizing it. Back and forth I go, moving between belief that the Lord has planted desires in my heart whose buds are beginning to peek their little necks out from beneath the soil, and the flawed thinking that the bud has died, and that no amounts of water or sunlight will revive it. The pull between what I dream of doing, what it seems like I "should" be doing, and what I actually feel like doing on a daily basis leaves me burdened and burnt out. And so I do nothing (thus the reason I haven't written anything here in nearly two weeks).
As I continued to rock back and forth, I breathed a small prayer asking, "What do I do with this?" Being in that in between place is uncomfortable and paralyzing. I felt a faint whisper in my ear say, "Come to me," an echo of what Jesus said in Matthew 11:30:
Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion?
Come to me.
Get away with me and you'll recover your life.
I'll show you how to take a real rest.
Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it.
Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.
I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.
Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly.
(The Message)
And so, I didn't waste time. I went to him immediately. I flipped through my journal, a bit embarrassed by how long it's been since I'd written in it, looking for a shred of evidence that He'd met with me before in hopes of bolstering my faith that He'd do it again. Without looking very far, I found this letter. It is a letter written last April at our annual Women's Conference; our speaker, Susie Larson, gave us an opportunity to sit in the presence of the Lord and write a letter with words the Lord would speak to us right then. "Don't think about it, just write," she urged. Here's what mine said:My precious child,
I want you to know that I love you. More than anything else, I want you to know that I love you. Deep. Deep. Deep. Love you. And I have your back. You don't have to worry. You don't have to be afraid. I'll take care of you. I know you, your heart, how your mind has kept you captive from the things I desire for you. They're for me - so take heart, love. Take my heart and let it become yours. I'll not leave you. Never. I can't. I won't. Don't even try pushing me away because you'll lose. I win. I always win. With me, you are safe. I've got your back. I see you. I know you. I'll help you. I mean what I say. Maybe others don't. Haven't. But I do. I will. Trust me. Trust ME. I am good. I am true. I am real, more real than anything else, for without me, there is nothing. Apart from me, there is nothing. With me, there is fullness of joy. With me there is clarity, not confusion. With me there is light at the end of the tunnel. I am that light. Keep walking. Keep moving. Keep seeking. Keep trying. Don't fear failure. Don't fear falling. I am. I promise. Believe the promise. Step into the promise. Embody the promise. Don't forget. Remember. Remember me. Remember me? I am the one who brought you here to this sweet place. I will continue. My word is true. My word is sure. My word will not fail. Honor me. Honor me with everything you are and I will honor you. Do not forget. And I will not forget.
Perhaps today the Lord was trying to tell me something even more specific than the message of this letter. As I was looking through the pictures I took to share with you, my eyes landed on this:
They're for me. My dreams, that is. They are not my own; they are mine to bring glory to the Lord. However big or small those dreams are, however dramatic or seemingly mundane, all of them are for His glory alone.
Take my heart. Instead of "taking heart" on my own and operating from my own strength, take His heart and operate in His strength. Make what He cares about what I care about. What hurts His heart, let it hurt mine, too. Let the things that move him, move me. Love like he loves.
I'll not leave. I'm not alone, nor will I ever be. I am not facing this alone, and I never will. We're in this together.
I don't know where you are in processing and pursuing your dreams. Perhaps you're like me and have been feeling like the desires set deep in your heart are more of a liability than they are liberty these days. Maybe you've lost sight of your dream completely, or maybe you've walked through this place before but have come out the other end. Either way (or any number of other ways this might find you today), I will leave you with this:
Your dreams? They're for Him.
Take heart. His heart.
You're in this together.
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