Have you ever set out to do something, start something—walked that first step towards a dream you've always had, signed up for that course you've always dreamed of taking—but only ended up stopping?

The Words That Limit Us

I've been realising more and more that words are such powerful things. Labels are powerful things. The names that we give our family and friends are powerful things.

All-around and every day, we end up getting defined by the people around us, by friends and family who mean well, but perhaps don't quite know that the words they release change our lives. Sometimes for the better, but also sometimes for the worse.

The thing is, people aren't always careful of the things they say. We aren't always careful of the things we say. We speak flippantly, like everything around us is a joke, not knowing that what we see as trivial can mean the whole world to a person. That's why those reminders you always see aren't thoughtless repetitions of what we should know: be kind, be kind, be kind.

You know what I'm talking about. Words like "lazy", "slow", "silly", "fat", "ugly". The list is endless. They are words that are sometimes released in jest, but somehow make their way to our hearts and wound us. And often, without realising it, we find ourselves hurt plenty by the names and labels people call us. And if we're not careful, these names and label stake root in our hearts, breaking our spirits until we believe them too.

These words can come from different places. Sometimes, it comes from when you were a child and your parents said something that shattered your soul. Or it could have come from a friend who betrayed your trust by saying one thing and then doing another. Or it could have come from a colleague or supervisor at work who said cruel words that sucked the life out of you.

Wherever it came from, it made a mark on your soul until you have been left where you are with nothing but despair and sorrow in a dark place where no light touches.

The problem with believing these words is when we believe them so much more than we believe who we are in God. As a result, we end up missing out on God's wonderful plan for our lives...and what God thinks of us. Every time we are faced with a beautiful opportunity, instead of jumping into it with open arms, we hesitate, thinking of all the times we were belittled and called something else. Thinking of all the times when people called out our failures. Thinking of all the times when people called us failures.

And so we find ourselves trapped in what other people think of us, how other people see us. We box ourselves into their ideas of who we are and conform to their standards. We end up thinking, "This is who I really am," when, dear heart, it is not.

All the labels and names people call you don't dictate who you are—treasured, precious child of God. You, who are fearfully and wonderfully made. You, who are His beloved.

The Past That Still Holds Us Captive

It's not just the names people called us that keeps us from doing what we want to do. It's not just words that make us stop in our tracks. It's our past, too. A past that keeps us from healing.

Think about a time when the people around you treated you in such a way that hurt you.

Think of a colleague or boss at work who crushed your spirit.
Think of a friend or family member who betrayed your trust.
Think of people who trampled all over your heart with cruel words and seemingly harmless jokes.
Think of insensitive people who stripped you of your confidence by talking down at you.
Think of people who tried to rip your soul apart with their words and actions.

Sometimes, the people around us, the ones we love the most attack our bodies, souls, and spirits. And when they do that, the hurt goes deep down inside. It shatters our souls, too, and makes our hearts bleed. And even if was a thing of the past, the memories still inflict the same pain over and over again.

You see, sometimes, you can be delivered from a situation, but never be truly free from it. Sometimes, you can be trapped in a time and place when someone hurt you so much that every sound, smell, every single detail brings back to memory the pain you faced.

For those of us with shattered souls, the first step to coming out of the dark place often comes with acknowledging it. Acknowledging our past. Acknowledging the betrayal. Acknowledging that there are days when we don't feel like ourselves...and that those days are probably more common than we would dare to admit. We need to stand up and say, "Yes, I am broken." Dear heart, only when we acknowledge that we are broken can we acknowledge that we need healing. And only when we acknowledge that we need healing can we begin to truly heal.

The Crutch That Drags Us Down

In between the names and labels people called us and the past that still holds us captive is a pain that serves as a crutch.

And the thing with pain and covering it up is that we tend to hold it like a crutch. We think it will support the weight we bear down upon it, not knowing that it drags us down with it.

If you're like me, you tend to sweep your feelings under the rug. At the tiniest prick of your heart, you throw yourself into work and other activities. "If I work hard enough, what my colleagues/boss said to me will go away." "If I'm busy, I won't remember that people said something to hurt me or question my self-worth."

I like what author and therapist Aundi Koliber said:

"There is a difference between thinking our feelings and feeling them.
Learning to be with ourselves, to turn toward our experience—is part of the process of learning to feel them rather than over intellectualize them away."

If I were to be a hundred per cent honest, I think my feelings. I say, "Okay, this is supposed to hurt, and because it hurts, this is how it will make you feel." But I don't allow myself to feel it. I patch up things with work, with hobbies, with reading books and going on social media, with cooking and exercising and doing a thousand other things that will help me keep my mind on other things because I cannot, cannot, cannot think about what will hurt.

Better to be busy than to feel, I say. Better to pretend it doesn't matter than to admit that those words and situations in the past hurt me still. So I suppress it and refuse to feel it. I can talk about it, but I won't sit still and let myself realise the pain. I cast things over it and hope that the wounds will heal while being covered.

But we all know that it doesn't work that way. That for something to truly heal, you must expose it. That in order to grieve properly and heal properly, you have to go through the pain and process of feeling and acknowledging it. And I don't like that. I hate vulnerability and weakness and saying "Yes, you hurt me when you did that." And I know it's pride and my way of saying I can just get by without your opinion of me and no matter how you treat me, it won't affect me.

But no matter how hard I try to patch things up, truth will always see the light of day. Truth will always shine forth. Truth will always strip away the coverings I've dumped on top of grief and the things I refuse to handle. Truth will bare it, make it sting, and set me free.

Sometimes, I dare to think that we are afraid of healing. Sometimes, I dare to think that we avoid it because when we are without pain, we don't have anything to use as a crutch, as an excuse.

People like me, who try to patch things up without addressing the heart of the matter make it worse because we let it fester. You know how it is when a wound becomes rotten. It destroys everything else. Similarly, letting ourselves hold onto our pain, binding ourselves too tightly to it constricts us, constrains us, keeps us from growing, keeps us from fully healing.

So stare at pain in the face, dear heart. Take off the coverings that you use to tie it down, to hide it, and let it come to light. Face it head on. Let it cease to trap you. Feel it even if you think the pain could kill you. And when you are done, cast it away. Walk towards the light and start your journey towards healing.

I've been a little quiet and it's not because I haven't had time to write. As a matter of fact, I launched my website all about events, started a freelance writing business, and finally had the courage to write on Medium.

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:

• What do your dreams look like? Who paints the canvas of your dreams?
• Where do you place your hope?
• How much do you trust God?
• What are you willing to sacrifice to accomplish God's plan for your life?
• 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.

What is the God-Dream for your life?

We've been talking about shattered dreams and crushed hopes and it's quite sad, isn't it? Will we then go about our lives without dreams and just live from day to day? But here is something for all of us: God is not only the painter of dreams in this canvas of our lives, but He is also the Redeemer of Dreams.

The God-Dream for our lives is different for each one. It's your unique purpose, your passion calling. Some would even term it "holy ambition". This is your Esther Moment. That one thing you are called to do without hesitation. The very reason why you were raised for such a time. That one thing God has placed in your heart.

It is this very thing that God redeems in us. Once we hand the paintbrush back to God and allow Him to start working on us, He's going to take all those shattered dreams and crushed hopes and redeem the dreams that we thought were gone completely. Sometimes, they are the same dreams but done in His time and His way. Sometimes, they are a shadow of our former dreams, made better because now He's the one in charge. And sometimes they're completely different, but if you wait it out and let Him paint away with those beautiful strokes, you'll soon see that the dream He has for your life is a masterpiece and the best that anyone can ever come up with.

Trust Him. Surrender. Put your hope in Him. Give Him the paintbrush. Let Him work the canvas. Believe that He wants the best for your life (because He really does!). Walk towards His purpose and begin dreaming again, this time, the dreams that are His dreams for you. I do not doubt that you will soon see the beauty of His plans for your life as you let Him redeem your dreams and replace them with the ones He has for you.

Photo by Andreas Wagner on Unsplash

 
That’s twenty days of fear. Twenty days of uncertainties. Twenty days of not knowing what’s going to happen next. Twenty days of scrolling through the phone for news of what the world looks like in the midst of this crisis. Twenty days of more and more questions and not enough answers as we would like.

I’m currently going through a devotional material entitled “Scared of the Unknown” and I can’t help but think how perfect it is, how fitting for times like this. Interestingly, though, it is not all about how to get rid of your fear nor is it about verses of comfort to cling on to when we are facing uncertain times, it poses a challenge instead, the challenge of having faith in spite of what’s going on.

The writer for that particular section talks about how fear and anxiety can make you feel like you’re in a fog. You feel sluggish but your heart rate’s up, you can’t see what’s up ahead, your senses are heightened, trying to make up for what you can’t see. The writer goes on to mention that two of our heroes of the faith faced times like this:‌ Abraham and Moses.

There’s a Hebrew word that describes the faith they had in these moments. The word is hineni, which literally means, “Here I am.” Hineni is the way Abraham and Moses declared to God that they were present and ready to be used by him, even when they struggled with anxiety.

Part of faith, I think, is admitting that we struggle with not knowing. We struggle with the desire to be in control, to know what’s going to happen next, to take charge and plan every last minute of our lives in our Google calendars. We struggle with planning our futures, pursuing our dreams. We struggle because there’s just so much uncertainty about what is going to happen next, which brings about the fear that we might not like where we’re headed.
How do we face our fears head-on?‌ How do we silence those anxious thoughts that sometimes race across our mind leaving us a little short of breath, a little unsteady?

It isn’t so much as tamping down our thoughts, our feelings, screaming at ourselves internally to block the voices of doubt. It’s more about faith. About willing to be used by Someone who knows a whole lot more than us about what is going on and who can get whatever challenges, trials, storms, wind, and waves under His command with a simple, “Peace, be still.”

You see, hineni takes that fear we face and makes us willing to be used despite our limitations, our worries, our doubts, and our fears.

Hineni is Abraham following God despite being asked to sacrifice his son. Hineni is a trembling Moses standing in front of a burning bush and being told to face his biggest fears. Hineni is how you tell God that you are ready to do whatever He asks in whatever situation He has placed you.

Hineni is admitting that even if things don’t go my way, I trust that God will make things beautiful in His time. Hineni is admitting that I don’t have all the solutions to the problems and challenges I’m facing. Hineni is telling God I trust Him with the plans that I started out with this year, plans that are probably now altered or non-existent because of what’s been happening lately around the world. Hineni is surrendering the hopes and dreams I’ve built up through the years. Hineni is believing that He’s got me covered and that He can use me any way He wants.

What is your hineni? It doesn’t have to be something big or daunting. It can be a small, irrational fear that we have to learn to confront. Or the ever-persistent, nagging worry that keeps gnawing at us every single day. Or a crippling realisation that you don’t know what your future is going to look like in the next few months. 

Whatever it is, don’t let it stop you. Stand up, look it straight in the eye, and declare hineni. Sometimes, the only small step of faith we need to do is to stand where we have fallen and declare, “Here I am.”


Photo by Ashim D’Silva on Unsplash
Devotional: Scared of the Unknown by Dave Adamson on YouVersion