Bigger Than Me
When I was nine years old, I had a consistent and consuming dream of owning a horse. And while this is common fixation among most little girls, I spared no imagination or time focused on making this come true. I can vividly remember researching exactly how many acres of land a horse needed and what kind of fencing and food and training would be necessary. I pestered my dad constantly, "When can we get a horse? What else do we need? Why can't we do that right now?" Probably out of exhaustion, he told me one day that we still didn't have a fence so we couldn't even consider bringing a horse home until we had that finished.
This did not discourage me.
I woke up early the next morning and strutted to the barn gathering any spare piece of lumber I could find (or carry) and I began building my horse fence. A herd of rabbits could have easily knocked down my final project, but I didn't care. I was on my way to completing the mission of my heart. I can still remember my dad's face when he saw it there, crooked and leaning against the side of the barn (it could not stand up on it's own), but he smiled ... and a couple of weeks later we started building a proper horse fence.
Looking back, there is something about a child's dream that astounds me:
It has no limits.
Children have no idea of the hurdles and roadblocks and impossibility of what they are asking sometimes, but they dream away. It makes me wonder if this is what Jesus referred to when he said, "And they were bringing children to him that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” (Mark 10:13-15 ESV)
They believe in Jesus and in a kingdom without limits or exceptions or impossibilities.
This is the nature of faith. It believes some big stuff that absolutely can come true, despite the wills and wishes of men, because of God.
When I met Jesus, I traded some silly earthly dreams for some bigger kingdom dreams. These dreams keep me up at night. They tug hard on my soul. They make me stare at this computer screen pushing the words out and then chopping up every word because maybe it can be said better. They push me out of my comfort zone. They make me expose more than I wanted. They follow me on the drive home from work. They find me in the middle of the grocery store. They press harder and harder into my skin until it feels just like my own pulse.
Because I cannot go where I do not see the great divide between broken hearts and a Love that heals. I see her in the back of the room, choking down another lie and I want to give her truth. I see the bare bones she tries to hide and I want to feed her something that heals. I see the fake smile that betrays her heart and I want to send her to the green pastures and the still waters, where He restores souls. I see the weary, heavy darkness under her skin and I want to introduce her to the Light of the world, warm and safe and satisfying. I hear her endless words and shallow stories and deep disappointment -- and I just want to interrupt her with good news.
Yes, there is a great and wide divide here. But a bridge has been laid down, costly for sure, so that she can reach the other side.
And the dream to see the distance removed between these broken hearts and a Steadfast Love is bigger than me. It's bigger than anything I've ever dreamed. And all I've got is a couple of leftover boards and some nails, but I'm building and looking at a smiling Father whose kingdom is one without limits, full of crazy dreamers.