Current conviction:
When my dreams are no longer surrendered, they slowly become the very instruments of torture for my soul. Not just the material desire dreams, but the ones of “good” repute: a family member’s health being restored, the surplus of crops so we can give more to those in need, the broken relationships mended, the prodigal son’s return home…
Even my good, selfless dreams can quickly become selfish demands in a matter of seconds. When my hands are no longer open in surrender but tight-fisted with entitlement, it is no longer just a dream. That very “dream” becomes necessary for apparent survival- my survival.
(You see this quite often with young children who, for lack of a better term, have very little filter.)
When that dream of mine becomes desire, becomes need, and continues to influence my heart, it slowly becomes a measuring stick in which I see the goodness of God. If he chooses not to heal but to allow death, if he chooses to close up instead of opening a friend’s womb, if their left hand ring finger is forever naked, or if he chooses something even worse for me to endure instead of lifting the load, what then? Does my definition of him change? He is still good if my son never returns home?
But if I get what I want, God is (fleetingly) good- great even! But if I don’t get what I want, if my dream never becomes reality, God is no longer worthy of my worship. He is unfair, unjust, unkind, and unloving.
And to think it all started with a dream I had for my life.
So maybe that’s where I return: back to whose dream it was in the first place, because when my dreams are no longer surrendered (to him) they slowly become the very instruments of torture for my soul.
