on the dying of dreams

It had been a few months since I had sat in my church. Those months had been full of waiting on God, pursuing Him, and listening to Him.

I knew where He was leading me next would require dying. It required the dying of dreams. Dreams I had carried in my heart for almost ten years. Dreams that had grown, morphed, and spurred me on in my ministry, although few came to fruition. Yet what God had given me was amazing.

As I sat in the pew at church, my eyes kept wandering to a closed door at the front of the sanctuary. I had walked through that door countless times. Mainly as a teacher – as “Miss”.

I kept jerking my gaze away, knowing if I dwelt on it too long, I would melt into tears. I hadn’t expected it to be so hard to go back to church like that.

I thought I was going to be okay. To be strong. But suddenly they came, and I found myself taking deep long breaths to keep the sobs back that wanted to come as tears coursed down my cheeks.

In my heart, I was content. I knew I was following God. But this – this dying of dreams for my dear city doesn’t come easy. My city has been loved deeply, dreamed over, prayed over, and cried over for ten years. This dying has been happening for the past several months. But that closed door showed me the stark reality of my battle.

That closed door means releasing my personal commitment to staying by my girls’ sides until I die. It means releasing my hope that I would personally see God’s Word be accomplished in their lives. It means releasing the desire to live alongside them, and to be there for them all the time.

And although this dying of dreams is hard, was my dreaming and ministering all for nothing? Nay!

I cling to the promise that God’s Word will not return to Him void, until it accomplish that which He pleases. If I spoke God’s truth, it was worth it. God has taught me so much about dreaming and ministering in the past ten years. Thanks to my precious girls, I have been taught some of the world’s greatest lessons about resilience, compassion, and acceptance of others.

When God asks you to crucify dreams, He always resurrects it and creates something more lovely out of it than you can imagine. And I feel Him doing that in me. Since the battle to hold on to my dreams is won, and I keep crucifying them, God has been raising up other dreams – larger dreams, deeper dreams.

So I open up my hands and stretch them toward the heavens, and release every dream hidden in my heart, knowing that “as for God, His way is perfect.”

Show me Thy face, the heaviest cross will then seem light to bear. There will be gain in every loss, and peace with every care. With such light feet the years will fleet, life seem as brief as blest, til I have laid my burden down and entered into rest.

– Anonymous