Dreams awaiting daylight. I have so many. Planted in the secret, quiet confines of a tender heart.
But how do you dream anew after years of hopes unanswered? After giving your all and coming so close but it not being quite enough? How do you dare ask for the impossible, when you’re battered and bruised? When the weariness from waiting has wielded your heart a little less wild and a lot more wary?
How do you see again that faith makes way for the impossible, when vision fails your earth-dimmed eyes and finding your way is more like being waylaid than being found? How do you summon the courage to ask once more, when you can’t hear past the muffled beat of your own broken heart? When your lips have grown silent from the strain of years gone by laced with begging, crying, pleading and trying to hold onto belief?
How do you stand and fight when there is no strength left to muster?
Because sometimes, it’s just safer here. In the land of obscurity. In the warmth of familiarity and routine. And it’s easier here. Where conformity embraces and simplicity knows you by name.
It’s just here. Where not reaching means you won’t come up empty handed. Where not sacrificing means a measure of perceived peace and doesn’t demand the great cost of grit, growth, stretching, or pain.
But, when all is still and quiet, the call of more rings out in broken, hushed tones. The soul was not meant to be satisfied by this life. Not with borders and limitations.
We were made for more.
To be enlarged, for capacity beyond that which our small hands can hold or our limited minds can conceive.
His higher ways and greater thoughts are yet to be discovered and lived out.
And dreams? They need air to survive. Like a newborn baby thrust from its mother into the unfamiliar and the unknown, death is imminent unless breath outside of comfort and familiarity is accessed.
New wine, new wineskin, as Mark’s Gospel declares. The old us cannot contain the new to come.
We cannot both breathe and hold that breath simultaneously.
Breath must be released from our lungs and traded for more, one second at a time. A rhythm of trust and expectation. Emptied to be filled. Trading what was good for what will be better.
Sustaining, renewing, marvelous breath, sacrificed with the knowing that it will be met with provision but only after surrendering what was once held close. It is at the very point of death that life is resurrected. Daybreak follows the darkest moments of night. And new hopes need a constant supply of air to breathe. So, when doubts dance a dirge over our sputtering sparks of hope:
Cease your talking.
Cease your wondering.
Cease your striving.
Cease your wandering.
Cease your doubting.
Cease your questioning.
He’s been waiting.
He’s been listening.
Yes, He’s been working.
He is moving.
He is shaping.
He is breathing life
into your dry, brittle soul.
Life is filling up every space.
Every part. Every fiber of your being.
Life’s gotten crazy.
But the very breath of God is yours.
Moment by precious moment.
He is enough.
As we pause to breathe again, hidden under layers of too much, too little, less thans and failed ideals, hope is there. Perpetually reaching out for God to come. And He will. One breath at a time. Unfolding our stories. Tending to and mending our tattered hearts, because lasting beauty is intended to be revealed one glorious layer at a time.
We are held, still, by the Dream Giver, Peace Maker, Redemptive One. The Ruach Elohim – breath of God – is hovering over and filling us. And He is how we continue to dream, give, ask, see, believe, stand, and fight. In the hardest of seasons and loneliest nights of the soul. These dreams awaiting daylight will find their day.
We’ve just got to trust enough to let them breathe.
Jenny Wheeler is a pastor’s wife, mom, singer-songwriter and worship leader. Passionate about the church, one of her greatest joys is connecting others to God’s Word through teaching and writing. Jenny also works at Proverbs 31 Ministries whose mission is to lead women globally to know the Truth and live the Truth. She and husband, Chad, are parents to one amazing young adult and two precious pets. You can hear some of Jenny’s music and read more here.