Have you ever built a dream for yourself? A dream about your family or your
future? I'm sure you've built some through the years. Dreams about what we want
to do, where we want to go, where we want to live. Dreams about our careers,
dreams about our lives. I do not doubt that we've all done that at some point in
our lives.
We have, also, at some point, for some reason or circumstance that we can’t
control, have to let go of some dreams. Perhaps not all. Perhaps the smaller
ones. Sometimes the bigger ones.
Sometimes, we see it coming before it happens. Sometimes, we’re in the middle
of a lost dream before we know it was already gone. No matter, there are some
dreams that we’ve had to let go though the years.
There’s a line from one of the songs in Les Miserables, sung by a character
who’s life fell through hard times. It goes
“but there are dreams that cannot be and there are storms we cannot
weather."
If you've let go of something you've built up through the years, you know how
painful letting go of a dream can be.
Recently, I finished a devotional material entitled "Dreams Redeemed". This
turned in to a heart-searching moment for me. A time to reflect on my dreams
(both those that I had to let go and the ones that I’m still holding on to). A
time to check on my heart also.
My reflection through this devotional led me to ask myself questions about my
dreams:
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What do your dreams look like? Who paints the canvas of your dreams?
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Where do you place your hope?
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How much do you trust God?
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What are you willing to sacrifice to accomplish God's plan for your life?
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What is the God-Dream for your life?
What do your dreams look like? Who paints the canvas of your dreams?
When I graduated from college, I built a huge chunk of my life on a dream. My
plan was this: I would work at a certain place for a couple of years, and then
take my Masters’ Degree. After that, I would work again to build my career. I
had it all planned out, this "6-year-plan", as my friends would call it.
A couple of years after building those dreams, I forgot about them. I don’t
know why. I was too busy. I was enjoying my job. I was had too much on my
mind. I thought I was doing what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I was
cosy in my comfort zone.
Last year, they resurfaced like old friends, but like some old friendships, we
had strayed too far from each other’s paths. Like some friendships, I had to
let those dreams go.
It's when I let them go that I realised that I had built them for myself. I
was the painter of the canvas of my dreams. I was the one who plotted it out
and drew it on a map. It was only then that I realised that I hadn't left any
room for growth or any room for God to work in me and my dreams.
Where do you place your hope?
I'll be completely honest and say that I'm the kind of person who likes
planning out their life. I like seeing what's about to happen and I like being
able to control the outcome. Why? Because it's safer. Because I can be ready
and protect myself from any kind of disappointments.
When I forgot about my dreams for a while and then remembered them, met them
again, last year, I was crushed. How could I have forgotten? How could I have
allowed myself to be sidetracked? How could I put them aside? Along with those
questions came the realisation that I might have to let those dreams go.
There’s a poem that goes:
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
and then run?
—"Harlem", Langston Hughes
What do we indeed do with those dreams that are out of reach or the dreams
that have shattered through the years? Where have you built all your hopes and
dreams through the years?
It was when I encountered my dreams that I realised what was wrong with them:
I had been building them for me. I had placed all my hope in the future that I
could create. As I said, there was no room for God to work because I was so
sure about what I wanted and how I would work to get it.
It's good to set a vision for our lives. A
verse in Proverbs
encourages it in fact and even warns us that people will fail and even
"perish" without a vision. But what happens if we place all our hopes on those
dreams and they turn out to be different from the one God planned for us? Do
we get angry and become bitter? Do we swear to never dream again?
When you're confronted with shattered dreams, sometimes you're tempted to give
up dreaming. We're broken, discouraged, disheartened. Without hope. Tired and
listless. We ask ourselves what's the use of dreaming up something to only be
disappointed again. "Hope deferred makes a heart sick" (Proverbs 13:12), but
then again, hope in Jesus is an anchor for our soul. If you have some dreams
that are out of reach or dreams that you've had to let go, then perhaps your
hope has been in the wrong place all the time, just like mine was. With our
limits, we can only go so far.
What would our lives look like if we handed the paintbrush back to God and
allowed Him to work the canvas? What would it be like to completely surrender?
To tell Him, "it's all Yours to paint, I'm willing to reflect whatever You
paint out of my life"?
How much do you trust God?
Handing God the paintbrush brings about this third question: do you trust Him?
How much? With all your life? Or only a part of it? There's a song by Barlow
Girls called Surrender, and one of the lines reflects how it was for me:
My hands hold safely to my dreams
Clutching tightly not one has fallen
So many years I've shaped each one
Reflecting my heart showing who I am
Now you're asking me to show
What I'm holding oh so tightly
Can't open my hands can't let go
Does it matter?
Should I show you?
Can't you let me go?
Surrender, surrender you whisper gently
You say I will be free
I know but can't you see?
My dreams are me. My dreams are me.
It's been so hard to let go of my dreams because I'm always afraid that the
future God has for me might not be a future I want. That's quite silly and
foolish, isn't it?
I used to have a hard time believing that verse from Jeremiah 29: 11: "For I
know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not
for evil,
to give you a future and a hope."
How beautiful is that? The assurance of a hope amid our shattered dreams. The
knowledge that He knows what's best for me and will give me that. The promise
that He will make things beautiful in His time and in His way. And that's what
I'm learning day by day. Trust. Trust.
Trust. One step at a time, one
day at a time. God knows what He's doing. His plans are far better, far
greater than anything you could ever imagine.
What are you willing to sacrifice to accomplish God's plan for your life?
Letting go of my dreams means letting go of my control. Letting go of my
control means giving God all the control. In
Hebrews 12, our lives are compared to a race and we are told to "lay aside every
weight...and run with patience."
A friend told me some time ago that the weight we have to lay aside might not
always the "bad" ones. Sometimes we have to lay aside the things that are also
"good"—a job offer that pays well but could tie you down instead of giving you
the freedom to serve God outside of work hours, a ministry opportunity that
takes up most of your time on weeknights and weekends that you have no time
for your family or to work on the dreams God has given you.
I've always wanted to do so many things, accomplish so many things. I guess
that's how it is for all of us. But when I think of how it corresponds with
God's vision for my life, I find myself hesitating. Is this job really for me?
Am I meant to say yes to this opportunity? I shouldn't let that possible
experience go, but why do I feel like it isn't the right one?
Ever since my college years, I've been dreaming of working in one place. I've
applied several times, but the answer has always been a closed door. Could it
be that God is closing the door here because it might distract me again?
Probably. Does it mean I will never work in that organization? Maybe. And if I
think about the present, it's painful to realise that this is yet another
dream that might not be fulfilled. But what if it's one of those things I have
to set aside (temporarily or forever), simply because it doesn't fit with
God's plan for me? As with the canvas in the hands of the Painter,
I have to find the willingness deep in my heart to accept a closed door and
to trust that there's an open one that will lead to a better place.