The Purpose of Your Dream

Photo Credit: Creative Commons

Who am I?

I have struggled all my life with this question. I knew who I was in the sense that I was born into a certain family, or that I was the smart kid with the loud laugh, but inside, I struggled with the question of who I was meant to be.

As kids we all get asked at one time or another, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” For me there were always three things that I said, depending on my age or on my mood. I wanted to be a teacher, a singer, or (my favorite) Annie.

Little Orphan Annie ™ was made into the movie Annie when I was five or six. That bright smiling girl had spunk, daring, and moxie! At any moment she could break into a fight or break into song. I identified with her so strongly that I drove my family crazy with my rendition of “Tomorrow”.  

Rocky Balboa and Luke Skywalker were close seconds but Annie was always the forerunner for me. What do these fictitious characters have to do with discovering who I am? Nothing and everything! 

Those things that create a spark are things that give us a glimpse of who we are as individuals. What I like, (Annie for example) someone else may see as trite, or drivel. There are some who become excited by the idea of survivalist training or climbing active volcanoes. These things do not spark a passion with me because I was not wired that way. 

For me, being like Annie is more than singing "The sun'll come out tomorrow...." It is about standing up for what I believe in, fighting along side my friends, being a leader, enjoying the most out of life and never letting the really crummy circumstances drag me down. Her character reminds me to be a person of character and to press into life with all the guts and gusto I can. 

What sparks you? 

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day. His passion was first the gospel and second the equality of his fellow man. Not just because of color, but in spite of it. He saw oppression and he could not stand by and say nothing. He believed the prophet Isaiah and took God's word to heart. 

"Learn to do good. Seek justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of orphans. Fight for the rights of widows." Isaiah 1:17

In his famous "Dream" speech he said this: 

"I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

 This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.

 With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day....when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

The Purpose of a Dream

I am not talking about the "I ate too many tacos right before I went to bed" kind of dreams. I am talking about the dreams that are bigger than ourselves. The ones that take our breath with the sheer depth and breadth of them.

Dreams move us. They ignite us. They drive us, and too often, they leave us. Or I should say, we give up on them.

If you feel like you have lost your dream, you need to remember this. Joseph stood among his brothers as a kid. Snot-nosed, arrogant, and naive, he thought his dreams meant he had it all figured out.

Instead it took expulsion from his family, false accusations of rape, jail, working for the Pharaoh and then, when he least expected it, God brought Joseph's dreams to pass. Not for Joseph's sake, but for the sake of his family and two nations: Egypt and Israel.

Dreams are markers of God's faithfulness. They give us hope, they point us in the right direction, and they take root in our hearts. If we feed our dreams we can watch them grow, but only if we do not give up. Only if we keep pressing. If Joseph had given up when he was thrown down a well, or when he was thrown in jail unjustly...what would that have meant to the world years later? Who would have gone hungry or never received forgiveness?

No matter the circumstance, we must keep moving forward. Carving hope out of despair and transforming random notes of our life's music into a symphony of praise to God's faithfulness to bring all things to work together for the good of those who love Him. (Romans 8:28)

Dreams prompt us to act. To do. To stand up. To take notice. To put the world on notice. Dreams are creative and they are often closely tied to our purpose. They are the fuel that drives us, and they are a gift of God, who knew you before you were formed in your mother's womb and who's plans for you are good and hope-filled.

Live your life with a dream in your heart, your hand to the plow and your trust in the Lord and He will direct your path.

Join the Conversation

What is your dream?

"The Lord answered me, “Write down what I show you. Write it clearly on a sign so that the message will be easy to read." Habakkuk 2:2

Subscribe

Like what you see? Join our free newsletter and get the same great content and more delivered to your inbox. I won't spam you and I will never sell your info. For signing up today you will receive a free PDF version of my children's book The Gardener and the Sapling: A Modern Parable. Just click the link below. 

Subscribe to our newsletter

This Writer's Manifesto

Photo Credit: Creative Commons

I write. 

I have to tell you it has not been an easy trip. I have had a lot of discouragement and encouragement throughout the years, by various people in critical moments in my life that are forever crystalized in my brain. 


Like Mrs. Longfellow, my eighth grade Literary Arts teacher who after reading and grading one of my papers told me I should be an actress and speak someone else’s words, because I was no writer. 


Ouch. 


Mr. Chaney, a man who was a long-term substitute for my English teacher in ninth grade turned that around when he held me after class one day.

Typically I was only held after class because I had been a royal pain in the rear, snarky child that I was, and I thought I was in trouble. When he pulled out my paper on Romeo and Juliet, he said I had talent, and he felt I would be good at UIL Ready Writing. 


This blew my mind, but it was a moment I will never forget. Someone saw something in me: something good, something worth developing, something I thought was dross, but was really un-mined gold.  

Not Everyone Got It

When I came home and told my dad, who wrote (rather good) poetry in college, what Mr. Chaney had said, he was surprised and told me so. Daddy had always followed the philosophy that if you were not well spoken you could not be a good writer. Since I was fifteen, and a typical teenager who used too much slang, I can understand his point now, but then I was devastated. 


In my brain I heard you aren’t smart enough, you aren’t really talented, this was a fluke and you know that Mr. Chaney is a weirdo anyway. Rather unfair to Mr. Chaney and the beginning of a battle I have even now with insecurities about writing, which make me want to quit on a regular basis.

Besides any insecurity I may have, the other facet of writing that I find both extremely challenging and rewarding is its honesty. When done right, honest moments and honest words capture images that translate into memorable literary pictures in a reader’s mind. Once, I wrote about my favorite place in the world, more specifically I wrote about leaving it.

Photo Credit: Creative Commons

“I learned the roads to home by driving away from it, with my father at the wheel and my step-mother resting her socked feet on the dash. The front window held the impression of her foot in fog; whether from the smell or the heat, I don’t know. Pressing my face against my door window, I watched the pine trees thin out and the road speed up, as we drove out of the hills into the flat emotionally barren world of the gulf coast of Texas.” 

These very honest sentences written by a then 17 year old version of me were met by praise for their imagery by Mrs. Henkies, my 11^th grade English teacher, but were met by hostility at home because they offended my parents. I have since learned why writers say we write what we know, because what we know is honest, what we know is both a gold mine and a landfill, what we know is organic.

So What Does That Mean? 

Am I a good writer? I do not think so. I am no Hemmingway, I am not Frost. I will not capture the attention of the world by writing about sparkling vampires in fields of flowers, but I am a writer. I write what I know.

I have known pain and I have known health. 


I have known heartache and I have known joy. 


I have known desperation and I have known peace. 


I have been lost, and I have been found. 


I write what I know. I write about life, I write about family, I write about emotions, I write about Jesus, because I know Him. 

So I will write, and I will act, Mrs. Longfellow. I will act out other writers’ words from the Bible, and I will write about those acts. I will write about the struggle of writing and I will remember that without the struggle the triumph would not mean as much. I am a writer. I write.

What are you?