The Cost of Dreaming Big

There is an inherent risk in dreaming big, something no one ever talks about but is unavoidable and devastating, and that is the inevitable reality of disappointment. Now, I am old pro at dreaming big. I have constructed masterpieces whimsy in my mind that would shame Da Vinci. I have woven together grand and glorious schemes out of nothing more than a whisper of hope that make the Sistine Chapel look like a mere coloring book.

And it more than conjecture or what if’s. I can see myself there in the moment. I can feel the texture of the clothing I shall wear as it all comes to fruition. I can smell the air that crackles with the energy of realized potential, and if I am still enough, I can feel the weight of all the toils and heartaches endured to reach that moment roll off my back.

It is the fuel that keeps me going. It is why I do what I do and why I fight so hard to keep moving forward when everything around me tries to hold me back. I need to dream, like I need to breathe and even more than I need the nourishment of food for my dreams are far richer. In my mind it is not a question of if, but rather of when. For me, it has already happened and I am only waiting for that moment when you shall be able to enjoy the dream with me in this reality.

And then there are days like today.

Days when I realize I don’t have a play left. Facts, reality, the truth, whatever you wish to call it, are greater than my dreams and I have to admit that, at least for the moment, I have been defeated.

Days like this aren’t frequent. They are a strange and unfamiliar land, one that I have managed to dodge more times than any human has a right to – a fact I am grateful for, but it does not make it any less painful to be here. Maybe it is my lack of experience with this place that causes me to freeze, to set back and watch the sky fall bit by crumbling bit with nothing more than remorseful resignation.

Days like this make me doubt, not my faith, but my ability to trust God. And yes, there is a difference. For I have all the faith in the world that God is greater than my mind can comprehend. Questioning his power, his holiness, and his sovereignty never crosses my mind. I have faith that when I pray on your behalf that he will move mountains to care for you, to provide for you, and to demonstrate his love for you. Faith is not an issue. Faith is as real to me as gravity, an undeniable and powerful force not be ignored.

But trust? That is another matter.

Trust means that I am willing to believe no matter what the evidence or circumstance says that everything that is will be for my good. That is a harder thing to believe, particularly when the circumstances hurt. And they do hurt when you watch your dream evaporate.

This is where most Christian blog writers would give you some great spiritual insight. Sorry, but today, I have none. It just hurts. And my sadistic little brain keeps running through all the ways that life is unfair, making a tally of all the things that I have sacrificed and balancing against all that I think I have gained. I am involuntarily running down the list of people who have gained so much more and done so much less, and I am trying not to drown in self-pity or get puffed up with sanctimonious outrage that life isn’t fair – that God isn’t fair.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I know all the right Christian answers and I can quote all the appropriate verses for you. And I have lots of people in my life who are willing to quote them back at me, but you know what? When it hurts this bad, all of that is nothing more than salt in a bloody wound, and while I know that everyone means well, it feels like I am being told that my emotions in all this do not matter, like my disappointment and pain should just be swept under the rug and ignored.

I know my dream was unrealistic and that there were too many obstacles standing in the way to ever think that it might be done in this life. I get it, but do you think for one second I would be feeling this way if I did not have faith enough to dream in the first place? If I did not think for one second that my God was strong enough and great enough to accomplish all that I believed could happen? Of course, I did or I would not be facing disappointed now. The question was never faith. It’s not the question now.

The question is can I trust him? My mind started out screaming yes – decreeing it if we want to use the right church vernacular, but after the past few years that scream has become a whisper lost in the storm. For no matter how much I know what the right answer is, my heart is bleeding with the wounds that faith has dealt me, that daring to trust has cost me.

So I turn the pages, find the Psalm that reminds me that I am not alone. There was another who felt this way, another who dared to ask that dreadful question that only the truly brave can ask, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Because sometimes, you don't need answers, you just need to know that you are not alone. 

"Jesus" Isn't A Trivia Answer

If you have ever played trivia games, you have probably experienced that one beautiful moment where your opponent stumbles over what you consider to be an elementary question. They fumble and stumble for the answer as that smug smile on your face grows wider and wider, waiting for the chance to crush them with your superior knowledge. Perhaps you even indulge in a taunt or two, throw them a vague hint, or just sit in arrogant silence, all the while glorying in their ignorance, because not only does it feel good to win – it feels amazing to have proof that you are the smartest person in the room.

We live in a world where so much of life is a game. We collect our tokens, we roll the dice, and we play every free pass we get hoping that we win this round. The world is full of winners and losers, and how you define that is by how much you earn, who you know, what you have, and who knows the right answers.

Unfortunately, this is also how many of us approach this thing called faith. Those of us who identify ourselves as Christians have no doubt that we have the answer – his name is Jesus. And even more unfortunately, we have treated this like the ultimate free pass. We win. We know we win, our Bibles tell us so, and so what is the point of anymore questions? Why bother with another go around the board when anyone with any sense can plainly see that we have already won?

But you see there are still questions, valid and necessary questions that need to be answered.

Somewhere along the lines we got confused. We started dividing up this world into winners and losers. We stopped looking at other people as teammates and friends, and we began seeing them as opponents and losers. We started keeping score and feeling smug about our victory. We taunt and even treat others with scorn when they are not as smart as we think we are. And we flat out despise anyone who dares to ask another question, because we are convinced they should just accept the answer we have to offer.

And this means that we stop asking questions. We stop seeking answers and understanding, hiding behind our free pass and using Jesus as our favorite excuse to remain in ignorance.

After all, questions can become rather risky. They threaten to expose how little we do know and if our identity is wrapped up having the right answer the very fabric of who we believe we are just might come unraveled if someone asks the wrong thing. People have this unnerving tendency to ask about things we don’t like to think about like sex, heartbreak, death, poverty, and where was God when my world fell apart? And they won’t accept “Jesus” as an answer. They want more.

They want to hear how Jesus became real to you. They want to know how he showed up when your life was in shambles. They want to know what he said when you asked that difficult question in your life. They want see if you are really know what you are talking about or are you just spouting off something you read on a cheat sheet.

And if we got honest – I mean down and dirty, scary honest – that is exactly what most of us are doing. We don't ask why we think he is the right answer. We just know that someone told us that he is, and by accepting it, we hoped that we could bypass all those awful and terrifying questions that world poses to us each day.

The thing is relationships don’t work that way. You don’t get to just pull out a free pass and say I won. You can’t do with people, and you can’t do it with Jesus. He has no interest in simply being your “get out of hell free” card.  He want you to know him and he wants others to know him through you. And how do you get to know someone? It’s when you have the guts to work through the questions together, when you trust someone so deeply that you can take them all the doubts and fears of this world with the assurance that you have someone at your side who will never leave. It is when you can freely ask him the hard questions about all the things no one wants to think about knowing that he will guide you to a true answer, not a cliché.

True faith grows through the questions, not through avoiding them, and as we seek the answers that strengthen our faith, we learn that questions keep us humble and in awe of our Lord. We learn humility in our being while still being able to claim victory in his. We stop seeing people as winners and losers, and learn to appreciate the questions of others as a valuable part of their journey to faith.

Disturbing Bible Stories - Asking The Hard Questions

If you study your Bible very long one of the things that you will find is there are certain stories that can be rather disturbing. Stories that can make you wonder how well you understand this person we call God, and even some that can make you wonder if we really know Him at all.

For me one of those stories is the story of Uzzah. Many of us don’t remember the name, but most of us know his tale. He was one of the men who was trying to return the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. He was following the orders of his king, when the wagon transporting the Ark hit a bump in the road and the Ark began to topple, Uzzah did what I think anyone of us would do. He put his hand out to save the Ark, and God struck him dead.

As a child, this story really bothered me, and when I would ask people, “Why?” The answers were never satisfying. It just did not make sense to me that he would be punished for trying to do the right thing. Okay, sure, David was going about it all wrong. He messed up royally, no pun intended, but Uzzah was just following orders, doing what the man in charge had instructed him to do. It wasn’t his fault that David got it wrong, and I kept seeing myself in Uzzah’s place. As the one who had to do what they were told, who saw a disaster in the making and tried to stop it, and still got in trouble.

Even as I got older, it still bugged me. How does this happen? How can a person be punished for trying to do the right thing? It didn’t seem just or loving. It didn’t line up with my understanding of who God is. So I tried to ignore the story. It is easier that way, just act like the hard parts of the Bible don’t exist, and presto, your theology can remain simple, easy, and comfortable.

The thing is you don’t learn when you do that. Failing to ask the hard questions means you never get the great answers. Sure the process may hurt, and you may find that some of the things you once believed about God need to be reevaluated, tweaked, or even scrapped. It’s okay. It doesn’t mean God is any less God. It means you are growing up. Just like when we stop to consider our parents as adults and not simply as a child. They are still our parents, but we can begin to appreciate more of who they are.

Even later in life when I returned to the story, I began to see some things I had missed before. One of those things was Uzzah wasn’t a nobody. He wasn’t some ignorant worker who did not know better. The Ark had been kept at his father’s house, so he probably already knew a thing or two about how it should be treated. He had been chosen to be close to the Ark, a position of honor, probably for this very reason. So this leaves us with the question, if he knew so much, why did he allow the king to make such a horrendous mistake?

Why didn’t he speak up? Remind David of the proper protocol, refuse to be involved when he saw things were not being done according to God’s will? Was he seduced by the honor offered by the king? Was he worried about offending David? Or did he hope that good intentions would be sufficient?

Now when I read the story, I wonder when in my life have I been Uzzah? Willing to cut corners, go with the flow, or hide behind the excuse “I was only doing what I was told”? Have I ever been bought off by recognition and honor, because I let myself believe that good intentions made up for disobedience? Or am I just being lazy or fearful?

We will all be confronted with times when someone will ask us to do something we know isn’t right. In that moment we will have to decide whether the prestige of such request outweighs our reverence for the things of God. In my life, I pray that I am willing to speak up, or decline to be involved, when I face these times. I pray that I have the grace to do it with compassion and mercy but with a firmness of conviction that will not allow me to be swayed from my intent to honor the King.

It isn’t always easy. People don’t always respond well to being corrected, and sometimes in our fervor people can be irritated by those they believe stand in their way. We can lose out on the perks, be seen as trouble makers, and even shunned by people who fail to understand our hearts. And make no mistake, it can hurt, but Uzzah lost his life because he kept quiet. He died because he failed to take a stand. I don’t want to be that person.

And as someone who is in leadership, I would hope that my people would speak up. Correct me if they see that I am wrong. David grieved over Uzzah’s death, as a good leader should. His purpose of returning the symbol of God’s glory to people was delayed, and he had to stand before his people aware that he had failed them as a leader. Everyone knew that he shared in the responsibility to for Uzzah’s death. That is just one place I never want to be.

So let Uzzah’s story be reminder, there are times to find our backbone, use our voice, and share our knowledge. And there are times when we need to hear from those in our lives that may know something we don’t. It really could be a matter of life or death.

A Useless Faith

You should never question God, or so I was taught. God did not like questions, and even more importantly, God did not like people who dared to ask him questions. Good Christian girls buttoned up, sat down, and kept their mouths shut, to do anything else was to invite the wrath of the Almighty and inflame the ire of the Most High.

And I tried to be good. I really did, but who can live like that? What is the point and why would you? It never made any sense to me. Why in the world would you say you have a relationship with anyone who could not tolerate a question? Is not a faith without answers useless? But these were questions I didn’t ask because questions were not allowed.

Until the day I discovered that I needed the answers more than I needed to be safe. I asked my questions of God in defensive anger and offensive pride, too scared to reveal my desperation and too terrified to give into the shelter of false humility. I needed to know why my life had fallen apart, why - even when I did everything right, played by his rules - he had allowed me to be hurt so deeply. I raged at the heavens, hurled insults at the sky, demanding to know where he was and if he cared at all. I screamed blasphemies and thundered accusations into the night, caring little for the consequences, for even to be struck down would prove my faith had not been in vain.

Night after night, you could find me there, pacing like the wounded beast that I was, and night after night, nothing but the echos of my cries could be heard. No bolts of lightening, no smiting of the unbeliever, just silence in return for my abuse.

Some would denounce my behavior, chastise me for such audacity and brazenness, but I learned something in those times. God does not flinch before our questions. He is not scared of the scars that make us lash out in pain. He waits patiently until the storms of our emotions are spent, and he speaks in the quietness that follows, honoring our honesty with his presence and tending the wounds we are brave enough to bare.

It is there that the we learn that real faith has room for the questions, even the unanswered ones because the faith is not in answers it is in the abiding presence of our King.