In the pre-Challenger 1980s, I wanted to be an astronaut.
My parents never told me that pursuing astronautics was impractical, and most Americans figured that we would be taking leisure trips to the moon by 2012. So why shouldn't I be the driver? The spacesuits, moon boots, and glass-visored helmets were the essence of cool. And Tang was one of the few drinks I could prepare myself at age 7. It was perfect!
The timing was purely coincidental, but shortly after the explosion -- and with it, the American disinterest in the space program -- I had my first change of heart. Over the next ten years, I wanted to be a chemist, a children's author, a teacher, a sports broadcaster, a mathematician, and a newspaper journalist.
At each stage of life, I considered my dreams attainable. My world was full of people telling me what I could accomplish and what was required. The rulebook was standard: by finishing steps A, B, C, and D through hard work, the sky was the limit.
The same rulebook that placed my dreams within reach also made them less dreamy. As a 7-year-old, flying to space was a lifetime goal; if I reached it once, my dream would be fulfilled. Since it seemed so far away, it never occurred to me that I would need another dream. My next birthday seemed far enough in the future.
Unsurprisingly, I referenced the same rulebook when I grew serious about my faith; even less surprising, I attained everything I sought with my own hands. Degree? Check. Growing youth group? Check. The favor of parents? Check. Visibility within my denomination? Check. Freelance speaking engagements? Check.
The danger in discovering that my dreams could be accomplished was that my talents began driving them instead of my imagination. Even if I had connected the dots that God provided these talents, there wasn't a single facet of the ministry rulebook that required His help. By my late 20s, my "dreams" had been completed.
On the other side of ruin, I have found that my new dreams are all beyond my reach. Like the 7-year-old staring in his telescope, I hope for fulfillment which I am too small to attain. Without the hand of God, my dreaming will cease.
Should I dare wonder for the impossible? Can I boldly proclaim these dreams with the certainty of a child? Gazing at the moon outside my window, do I trust our Creator to fly me into the black?
5 comments:
I have let some of my dreams cease... even in knowing that it would be Him who had to accomplish them. At times I believe I have let my full fledged trust in Him cease as well.
Good thing He's a God of resurrection.
I long for the certainty of a child... again.
This was very nice. Isn't it funny what we hope to become as we grow up and how much it can change? I think the first thing I wanted to be was a train conductor, then pilot, then concert pianist, then a lawyer and somewhere along the way an author. I change my mind a lot.
It's good to dream of doing what we alone aren't able to attain on our own. Sometimes I lose focus on these dreams and feel discouraged wondering "how can I do this?" and then realize I'm not in this alone and I'm not meant to be.
Sorry for the typo, I meant: "It's good to dream of doing what we aren't able to attain on our own"
Kallie: I once did a sermon series on what it means to come to Christ as a child, but it isn't getting any easier. I like to think that His voice was full of compassion when Thomas needed to touch Him. Jesus understands how it kills our flesh to humble ourselves in certainty of His power, but His patience assures me that He thinks we're worth resurrecting.
Laurel: I love that you wanted to be a train conductor! I'm picturing that adorable kid you posted with your testimony, only with overalls and a conductor cap :)
I've found that all these changes merely indicate how exciting new things are. You should never concern yourself with being suffocated by your circumstance; for you, the next adventure will always be around the corner.
Haha, I never did get that conductor hat but I adored my Polar Express book and little wooden train set. I quit dreaming about the conductor job when I noticed the trains going through town carried coal, not people. Hauling coal around just didn't seem like a great dream job.
I hope you always dream and go hard after those dreams that seem impossible. Your next adventure is always around the corner, too.
Post a Comment