Dreaming and Doing

Some people dream to the exclusion of doing.

Others do to the exclusion of dreaming.

I vacillate between the two.

Heartsick because of hope deferred, I shut off the dreams and exhaust myself in doing.

Worked to the ground, I look up to the sky and ask “Is this really what I dreamed of?”

I planned to write a post about all the many things I’ve dabbled in, dreamed of, done. But as I started writing, the dreams rose in my throat to cut off my air.

Remember the days, Rebekah?

Remember the days you dreamt big dreams? Remember dreaming of identifying with Christ to the point of sweating drops of blood like He did? You were such a zealous little girl, swinging on the swings at Tanker Hill while the adults in the church prayed. You dreamed of an army of children, passionate for God alone. Remember dreaming of a revival sweeping our nation, transforming every public and private activity? You were such a passionate teen–and you wanted to see the world changed.

Remember the dreams, the plans, the desires of your heart? Remember the designs, the plans you wrote up? A haven for missionaries on furlough. A refuge for those struck by natural disasters. A nursing home that was a HOME instead of a “facility”. A year-round camp. A support school for home-schoolers. A church-based community center. A church without walls, a church that never sleeps.

Remember how you hungered not just for knowledge but for experience as well? Remembering dreaming of traveling to each of those exotic places you read about? Remember wanting to work in the factory, wanting to build the computer, wanting to go into space? Remember wanting to see the animals first hand in their natural habitat? Remember wanting to learn the dance, do gymnastics, figure skate?

Remember when God told you your dreams were too small? Remember when He told you to dream bigger? Remember when God told you to start dreaming again? That wasn’t that long ago–but you became disappointed too soon.

June 10, 2006 passed and you weren’t married. You’re approaching 25 and you don’t own a house. You have school loans you didn’t plan on accruing. You haven’t been all those places you planned on going. You haven’t accomplished what you hoped to accomplish in your first quarter-century. So you immersed yourself in doing and let the dreams die.

O heartsick one, revive again. O downcast head, be lifted up. Awaken to dream, to yearn, to delight once more.

Rise above the busy pit that would never have you see the light. Arise to dance again. Arise to sing again. Arise to dream again.

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