Dream Blockers

Over the past few weeks, I’ve shared how I began processing what I believe the Lord set in motion this summer: allowing myself to dream again. It has been incredibly helpful to remember dreams of old and consider new ones, and to categorize them as big or small. It has been helpful to think about those dreams in details and steps to take. It has been helpful to see how the different people in my life are necessary for me to make those dreams reality. Now, it will be helpful to wrestle with the why I stopped dreaming.

The question What are your dreams? hung in the air for an uncomfortable moment before I attempted to answer it. I realized in that moment that dreaming was a sore subject for me. I wasn’t able to talk about it that day with my friend, but I could already feel the questions forming on the tip of my tongue for God. It wasn’t long after that day that I spewed a mouthful of disappointment, hurt, bitterness, and inquiries out before the Lord. I’m beginning to understand how easily our dreams get blocked. I like to declare my independence, my bravery, my persistence, but I am a fragile creature living in an upside down, inside out world from what it was intended to be. Sometimes the unpredictable patterns of life are too harsh, and shutting doors on dreams is the easiest way to deal with the pain. Jon Thurlow has a song about the Church’s longing for the Bridegroom—I think it sums up what I’m trying to say,

Things as they are

are not okay

When someone is missing

someone is absent

A day is coming when all things will be made new and everything will be okay. Meanwhile, if we are paying attention, we experience glimpses of that gloriousness. For me, it’s those glimpses that keep me watching and keep me hoping.

As I began to process why I stopped dreaming, two streams of thoughts became apparent. The first, and most obvious, is that I lost my husband to cancer. The second stream went back a little further, all the way back to childhood.

The Dreams that Died with Jonathan

When Jonathan and I were first married there was a period of time, albeit too brief, when we were writing and singing songs together. Okay, okay he did most of the writing but I chimed in there a couple of times. It was great—really, really great. I loved doing music with my husband, and I had dreams of us doing that for a living. That dream was quickly shelved when Jonathan began struggling with his faith in God. For many years his songs and shows reflected his struggle with and rejection of God—it was a solo act. As I was growing as a disciple during these years, I had a lot faith that one day Jonathan would return to worship the Lord again, and we would once again do music together.

Jonathan did return to the Lord and for a very sweet seventeen months we worshipped the Lord together. But, by that time his medical condition disabled him from playing any instruments and the very treatment keeping him alive had robbed him of his beautiful, strong, oaky voice. When Jonathan died the dream of doing music with him died too. There is nothing on this side of heaven that makes it okay. I feel that loss, I feel that pain. I got a taste of my dream, I hoped for more, and then it died. So, I shut a door in my heart to manage the hurt and to avoid it happening again.

In this case, loss and fear of losing again could be a dream blocker. It is necessary at times to hit the pause button, to rest, to reconsider, but it is easy to get stuck there. For me, it’s a matter of whether or not I trust the Lord. I left the dream of doing music with Jonathan in the care of my heavenly Father a long time ago, and I’m still choosing to trust that his way is perfect (Psalm 18:30).

The Dreams I’ve Had All Along

The soreness I felt about the subject of dreaming goes back further than my relationship with Jonathan. When I was a kid I used to transform my bedroom into a church and hold church services. I would arrange my stuffed animals, dolls, and Barbies on my bed and minister to them through teaching and song. It was elaborate! I picked a scripture to teach on (extemporaneously of course), I would draw out illustrations for “them” to color, I included a funny story, and I carefully chose songs to support my message and encourage a response. Most of them did respond and came down the aisle to my bed-post altar every time.

Writing, teaching, and music were my childhood dreams, and they have become my life dreams. The problem is, they are not in full fruition, and they definitely don’t look like what I’ve always imagined. Yes, I get little tastes of doing them, and I’m incredibly thankful the opportunities the Lord orchestrates for me. But the reality of adult life makes my childhood dreams look different. So there is a danger of my life-long dreams being blocked by discouragement, doubt, and disillusionment.

Perhaps, the most deadly poison to any dream is comparison. There are women who are living my dream in its fullest capacity right now. You’ve probably heard their songs, read their books, and heard them speak at some point. It’s hard for me to understand why they get to make a living off my dream but I do not. I’m convinced that the enemy makes his dwelling in comparison. He waits for us to answer his invitation. When we accept it and enter his tent of craftiness, he pounces on every one of our insecurities. When I compare myself to people who are thriving in the areas that I dream about, I immediately start asking questions like what did I do wrong? What did I miss? Where did I disobey? Comparison is a dream blocker as it always leads to discouragement, doubt, disillusionment.

Dream blockers aren’t going anywhere…things as they are are not okay. However, I believe with all my heart, soul, mind and strength that as disciples we have the power to overcome them, to walk away from them, and to resist them. I am learning that to be faithful with the dreams, gifts the Lord has entrusted to me means to listen and obey. He decides what is successful and faithful, not me. My dreams look different than what I thought but that doesn’t mean I have been unfaithful with them. My songs aren’t being sung by millions of people, but every time I write one and share it I’m being faithful. I only get to teach a couple of times a year, but every time I do I’m being faithful. Relatively speaking my writing doesn’t reach many people, but every time I write what’s burning on my heart I’m being faithful with a dream that God planted in me a long time ago. I’m not responsible for what the Lord does with my faithfulness; that’s his concern. I will be held accountable for using what he gave me in whatever capacity I can.

If you find yourself in a place of no dreams or a place of soreness with dreams, dig a little to find out what closed the door. Reacquaint yourself with the dreams behind the blocks. What are your dreams? Are the big or small? What are the details of your dreams? What is your first step to seeing that dream become reality? Who can help you with your dreams?

I’ll finish with this recent example. Yesterday, I got to teach one of my students how to pick out the melodies she hears in her head on the piano. It was an unplanned beautiful moment from heaven. It did not look the same as ministering to thousands of people in song, or singing with my husband, or teaching biblical truths to students. But for about ten minutes, I was on cloud nine and everything was okay in the world.