What are dreams made of and where do they originate? Somewhere at the core of each of us there exists the voice of a dream, softly beckoning towards the next page or sunrise or challenge. That is, until setbacks and beat downs drowned out the soothing sense of who we are and what we are about.
Go to the park and watch little kids play and pretend; caution here so that you’re not confused with the likes of Michael Jackson. It seems that the ability to imagine and enjoy comes as a birthright; it seems we know we belong, we just need to grasp where. If we ever lose that wonderment it’s like a fog covers our soul and adrift we pass the time in meaninglessness. I heard of an old friend, trapped in the reality of his own prison, robbed of the joys of life by the sense of self imposed worthlessness and guilt…for who knows what; I doubt he does. It’s called depression, and it’s pandemic in our day. The cycle starts early for some, we are as worthy as our accomplishments declare (so it goes). Sad to say, they never speak enough to satisfy the wryness of a soul without a dream or the intestinal fortitude to pursue them.
A study once concluded that until the age of twenty five most young men cannot properly rationalize the possibilities of the dangerous acts they participate in; it’s like a sense of invincibility reigns as king of the mental hill. What if that’s a portion of the dream? What if a lack of fear is the completion note, the harmonics of the 7th in the master piece of our composing? Whatever it is it’s sadly missing in the settled faces of the crowds who quietly watch the world go by and revel in the good old days; whatever they be.
Solomon, in the 29th proverb and verse 25 said “the fear of man is a snare..” or today we might express it as a trap. What sort of trap can hold a man who is yet unfettered? Do we settle at the guinea pig stage and never continue to test the boundaries of our virtual limitations? Why continue at a job you hate or settle for the way things will always be in your relationships? This is America, the land of the free and the home of the brave isn’t it? No one makes you do anything; yet for fear of what might happen or what we might lose, we continue as if all is well. That is, until we snap. What is it you fear?
I must confess that I’m rather conservative in my address of life (I’m over twenty five and earned by scars the right to some fears), I’m not on a path to conquer dragons and recue maidens. I have one purpose in life; that I live for Jesus with all my being. I do not live in the past or revel in my accomplishments, my grand prize is not a distant heaven, though when I’m toast I will accept it gratefully, whatever and where ever it be.
I would like to think I will arise to any challenge, but the reality is I pick my battles and do not fear those I walk away from. I want to continue to enjoy this grace called life, to wake to the wonders of a brand new day with encounters yet unrealized. This is life, I didn’t invent it, don’t control it, don’t want to stop it. I’m not praying at the proverbial spiritual bus stop, hoping for a seat on the first load out. What I do know is that in the awe of who God is, He is mighty enough to load me when it’s my turn.
I’m not sure God intends for us to bypass life here and now for the uncertainties of the unknown, but I hear it in the speech of those dissatisfied with the way things have turned out for them. Is it too much to wrestle our souls into quietness before God to recapture the voice of the dream; to re-set our true north? Are we able to hear the music of our distant longings, can our hands follow the score of our symphony? We are one of a kind, no one can displace us; live the dream.