“I don’t want to lose this feeling, the one right now.”
It’s the feeling that attached itself to an email from someone I’ve known for years. He had no idea he was including it when he sent the message about changes his ministry was making – changes that would mean I would not be traveling in the fall, not stepping on the holy ground of a place that had changed my life, not hugging the woman who has become the very heartbeat of the stories that change stories.
“Would it break your heart to step away from Jamaica? I have somewhere else in mind for you.”
My response was the right one. I knew it was. That I want more than anything for Christ to be given glory and people to be cared for and ministry to be done well. That change is a good thing because it keeps us pressing on. That I would be honored to serve, wherever the destination – even if it meant the destination would change.
But I didn’t answer his question. Because my heart was indeed breaking, but by not by any words he had penned.
It was breaking by the feeling.
The one that whispers, “God doesn’t even believe in your dream – just throw the book away.”
It’s the feeling of a dream being gutted by fear. The seed of doubt that grows like dandelions with no hope for wishes.
Within moments, the feeling had consumed me. The book had been called out as a joke. My writing had been declared illegitimate. My passion to tell stories had been deemed fraudulent. The voice had confirmed the fear that lived so deeply inside me, the one I have to slay each day – that my dream is indeed just a dream.
And I remembered her voice. The voice of the heartbeat on that small West Indies island. “The world needs our story, love. You’ve got to tell our story.” The tears fell as I sent a note to a friend who knows the fear I try to keep well hidden, knows the shame that still tries to push through the cracks of this life that finds its joy in restoration.
“I don’t want to lose this feeling because I want to remember how empty it is. So if it ever threatens to return I can look at it with familiar eyes and then tear away at the very throat of the lying voice with one trembling brave left hand. My writing hand.”
And so I face the fear that threatens to slay me. And to it I say, “There are stories to tell. And I will not lose – no, not one.”
—–
Why am I sharing this moment with you? Because I believe you’ve been there before. And I believe you’ll be there again, if you are a dreamer. And so know this – I am praying for you even now, that you’ll have boldness to look fear in the face and call it out. That you’ll be able to hold your dream high as a sacrifice of thanksgiving to God who gave it to you as a gift. And that you will rest in knowing that not one moment of your dream will be discarded or destroyed in the battle.
I’d love to know what your dream is – would you share it with me in the comments, or send it to me in an email?
Friend, write your story. Write their stories. They are needed. They are important. They matter. And, so do you. Press on.
Thank you, Michelle. I appreciate so much your encouragement! <3
Praying for fearless writing! I have a children’s book kicking around and often the enemy attacks but I WILL to do it. Thank you for your vulnerability.
Oh, I can’t wait for that book! Maybe it will be the catalyst to help my best friend and me move forward on a book idea we’ve talked about for years now…
Ronne…
Thanks for your vulnerability. Here is mine…
Yes, I have had dreams. So many dreams. Each one eclipsed by another, and the previous one left to…I don’t know…percolate, maybe? It is only recently that I came to realize that the foundation of all the dreams were expectations buried in the underground of my consciousness. In effect, they were grandiose dreams built on unstable material: expectations. Expectations of a marriage that would last, of a theological perspective that would never change, of a world that would play fair and have at least some proximity to unity.
But…
the expectations died, and the dreams with it. So, I find myself undergoing a resurrection of sorts. Yet it is a resurrection which is process rather than instantaneous. I don’t dare to dream, yet. I continue to embrace the death of my expectations in order to find the actual foundations of who I am. It takes time, and that is ok. Because I am realizing God’s creativity, design, and ongoing artisanship in where I have been and who I am, and becoming.
The temptation is to believe that my life is over, and the dreams are done. To deny power to this thought, I must first recognize its potential truth and embrace it. For the dream I hope to live out isn’t one I construct, but one God has been constructing all the way along. I just have yet to find it. So I must keep searching.
And its ok…
My friend and I talk a lot about having expectations versus being expectant. Gosh, how I understand the pain that comes with having those expectations dashed. But this is what I absolutely believe – I believe God is showing you something more valuable and sustaining right now. He’s revealing to you the very purpose of you. It’s a purpose that isn’t dependent upon circumstances, but rather a purpose that reveals itself in ALL circumstances. Your life is NOT over. Your dreams are NOT done. Rather, they are being powerfully formed. And every dashed dream, every beautiful awful moment you’ve lived is woven into your purpose and His dream. I am praying for you to see yourself through His creative eye. And I am already celebrating His plan in you.
I like the distinction between expectations and being expectant. Thank you for your encouraging words.
Ronne,
Your courage is rare and your writing is vital. Thank you for not giving up. I too have a dream. My dream is to be a lover. Totally free and unapologetic. I am a lover of God by being a lover of people. Like you, I want to love through my writing and through my traveling, and through my relationships. That’s my dream and I too won’t give up. Thank you for consistently being you. The Lord’s has been planning you since before time began!!
Your encouragement is such a gift, Jamal. Thank you. I’m praying for that dream in you to shine brightly. I know it will.