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:
Pause.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Cease your talking.
Cease your wondering.
Cease your striving.
Just breathe.
Cease your wandering.
Cease your doubting.
Cease your questioning.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
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.
Pause.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Life is filling up every space.
Every part. Every fiber of your being.
Life’s gotten crazy.
Chaos surrounds.
Conflict stifles.
Worry confounds.
But the very breath of God is yours.
Moment by precious moment.
Pause.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
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.
All right. This one was meant for me this morning. I have seen this over and over in my 57 years of not breathing at all. I’m learning, finally, how the Handimaker weaves the masterpiece that is impossible, unachievable, and fraught with apparent disaster. Yes. He Is. And He does it effortlessly. And when you look behind you, you can see how each failure led to His endgame. Thanks for this.
So glad to know this resonated with you, yellowpug. I think we often feel “it’s just me,” but it’s usually not! Bless you, friend.
Breathing is such an automatic thing; we normally don’t give it a thought until something sets us off and we need to remember to breathe.
This often takes us by surprise. I’m breathing too fast, slow down. I’m holding my breath, breathe. Otherwise, it’s just a normal in and out. I wrote a poem entitled, The Distance, in which I note the Bible tells us we are promised the breath we are breathing and nothing more so, at any point in time, we are one breath away from eternity. To me, that means we are 5 seconds from eternity at all times. The first time I did the math and the fragility of life became a known fact to me I was overwhelmed. 5 seconds! I live my life in 5 second spurts. What I accomplish and what I leave has to be achievable in 5 seconds because the intake of this breath may be the last one I breath on this earth. I don’t think about this nor believe this to be morbid but to be realistic and motivated to make my 5 seconds count.
Thank God for faith, hope, love, and grace. He started and will finish a good work in me.
Thank you for sharing and causing us to remember the importance of trust and breathing.
Love that, Bess. Yes, He’s still working in and through us 🙂 What hope that brings! Honored to share and find it touched your heart. Have a blessed day!
Oh, this was a warm hug from God on a cold, cloudy day. Because she is such an incredibly gifted writer, I then clicked over to Jenny’s blog and read Tattoos and Ice Cream, and cried. Again, reminded of the great love of a good, good Father. Thank you for Red Tent Living. Thank you, Jenny, for writing God’s heart for us. Pray for me to push through the terror of writing, putting my soul out there for criticism, disdain, or worse … crickets.
Oh Beverly, you just blessed my heart. I’m the author 🙂 and so glad you stumbled (no accidents with God) upon this today (and some of my old blog stuff … gotta update that soon). I will be praying for you!! Keep telling His story by telling yours! There will always be critics, fans, and crickets lol. But He’s our audience, and He’s pleased when we just obey and then trust Him for the results. God bless!!