That last post, of a cool. shaded porch. . .a place and space to dream. Called me out of the heat of my circumstance. I will be vulnerable and tell you, I’ve avoided that concept for two+ years. Dreaming seemed to me a luxury I cannot afford. I’m in survival mode.
I was living my dream or close as normal life can get to it. Most marriages get to that place where the thing really worth fighting for is the marriage, not who or what is right or wrong. Our marriage was reaping the fruits of faithfulness. Growing girls God’s way, I saw my four daughters claiming their world and their Faith. It was not perfect for any of us, but I saw the messy Glory as His beauty in the making. I wanted nothing more than to encourage their identity in Christ and love them until they popped.
Women’s ministry was Kingdom Play at it’s best. Creativity grew beyond the kitchen and laundry room. I pursued, with all my heart, for women to grasp His beauty, to re- learn to play with a child-like trust, to grow an intimate faith that embraces the Lord’s romance for them. Stages for conferences, plays, letters, Bible Studies, trusted confidences, leadership plans, table cloths, wrinkles, stains on carpets, colors, lights, laughter, tears, retreats, picnics, lunches that challenged Kingdom thinking, a few words scribbled here and there, and I prayed to meet God there. I wanted nothing more than His life in each moment and encounter. More of God for each heart that pulsed in search. . .
And then as Stephen Curtis Chapman, says in one of his most poignant songs, Beauty Will Rise, about the loss of their daughter Maria, “It was the day the world went wrong.” Many of us will live our lives and into a day when your world goes wrong. Fired from your job, death, diagnosis, betrayal, bankruptcy, divorce, abuse, tragic news, a home taken by fire and the world goes wrong in just a moment of time.
Pain shatters the picture of “our dreams.” The sharp shards of broken pieces cut into my playful reality of soft pastels, sketched rainbows, unicorns and bubbles, to bleed blood red by the Master’s Hand.
Still, We are made to dream.
There is a dream-in-the-making beneath the overlay of broken pastels that speaks boldly of a masterpiece that reaches well beyond our vision. The intense colors of this Kingdom Dream stroke far past the horizon of our day into His eternity. You see, the Dream, at the Master’s Hand is not easily captured with our eyes.
This Master’s Dream, brushes out colors so rich they saturate through new depths. This Perfected Dream reflects shapes we’ve not traced with our crude drawing pencils. This New Dream has no edge, no boundary to bind it but it is loosed into Heaven.
Matthew 18:18 “Truly I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall have been loosed in heaven.
What we experience as shattered, shards of our dreams, is a broken allusion. Think about the God of Love, giving you the innate desire to dream, your life dreams shattered and He leaves you sobbing on the floor with broken, sharp glass that cuts your tender skin? What parent do you know that would do that to their child? The Abba Father I know, will pick you up out of the broken mess, dry your tears and whisper with hope, “Come over here, I want to show you what I’ve been working on for us. It’s quite the secret masterpiece you know!”
The real dreaming has only just begun. If I have to give up the broken pastel pieces, for a dream that is painted in colors only heaven holds, brush strokes that reach beyond an edge of a canvas, and is free to explore beyond my hands, into eternity , then let God have the pastel, wistful dreams of old. There is a new dream in the making.
I am made to dream!
I want, an infinite palate for my Master’s Dream, and that will ONLY COME at His Hand.