Dream a Dream

Click here to read Isaiah 29

What sort of dreams do you have?  Maybe you dream about spring when the snow is not piling up?  Maybe you dream about going back to school?  Maybe you dream about a world where violence and hatred don't occupy so much of our nightly news.  Isaiah offers a profound insight about our dreams in verse 8.  The hungry person who dreams of food still wakes up hungry, no matter how large the buffet was in his mind.  The thirsty person who dreams of swimming in gallons of fresh water still wakes up thirsty, no matter how long she stays asleep.

While I don't want to knock the power of positive thought, in the end our thoughts are sometimes stuck in our minds and does not become a reality...no matter how much we try to focus on it.  No amount of Jedi-mind-tricks will alter our reality sometimes.  I think this is why consumerism is so big in our world.  My soul may still be thirsty, but at least I have a cola in the refrigerator.

Yet, we don't want to sell dreams short either.  Think back to Joseph in Genesis and the dream he dreamed of greatness.  Or his ancestor centuries later of the same name who dreamed the dream of angels telling him that Jesus was the Son of God.  Dreams are important to our faith and they have limitations, which is pretty much so true of just about everything in the church.  Worship is important and has limitations.  Prayer is important and has limitations.  Mission is important and has limitations.  You get the idea.

The point is not our dreams, but God's dreams, which Isaiah tells us is written on a sealed letter we cannot read.  It is mysterious, which for a person who likes to plan ahead is really frustrating.  Yet, Isaiah does not leave us there.  He proclaims there will come a time when the dream of God is realized. Again, I want to know the timeline and the strategic plan, but it too remains a mystery.  Perhaps not a mystery, as much as it is messy and non-linear, sort of like dreams themselves.

Isaiah's language is not that of Mission, Purpose, or Vision statements so common in businesses and churches today.  Isaiah's language is that of promise and trust.  Promise that God is present, interwoven in our lives.  Trust that even when we don't see or understand, God is present, interwoven in our lives.  May our dreams today open us to that promise and trust; and in that may we sense the traces of God's grace.

Blessings and peace!

Hope

Hope is one of those fragile words. Like it's cousins, love and trust, there are countless stories that teach us of both the power of hope and the jagged edge that can leave a scar from the experience of broken hope. And like it's cousins, love and trust, we can turn hope into an all or nothing, zero sum game.

Like a child on the high dive trembling before the glassy surface of the water, not knowing how far down she will sink when she hits the water and whether she will come up. Hope, like its cousins love and trust, is a deep end word. We feel like we either hope or we don't. We either embrace and immerse ourselves fully in hope or we distrust and even despair. We either embody hope or we sound like one of those blogs on either side of the political spectrum forecasting doom and gloom for you, your family, the country and the world.

Let's face it. It is not as though what we hear around us today helps fan the flame of hope. Just this week London riots, the stock market roller coaster, political bickering and blame as the fall out over the debt ceiling...hope seems to have taken a vacation to some secluded, secret, off-the-grid location...and doesn't seem to have plans to return anytime soon.

So, when as a pastor, I use the word "hope" (like it's cousins love and trust), I realize that I am on thin ice. Our experience with hope is checkered. As a kid we might 'hope' we get something for our birthday or Christmas. As a kid I remember the joy of opening the He-Man action figure I had begged my parents for. And as I kid there were moments when what I hoped for went forever unwrapped.

As adults our hopes move (somewhat) from material items to more ethereal dreams. Hopes for peace, for our children to be healthy and happy in their life, hopes for healing of a relationship or our bodies. To be honest, most of my hopes are for that which is outside my control.

And in the end, that is what makes hope so fragile. Hopes for peace or for happiness or for joy depend not solely on either myself or entirely on others, but on a messy combination of the two that seemingly can shift from one day to the next. Sure, we can try to be Zen-like in response to our hopes inside us or to the effects of the outside world on the hope we feel. But try doing that when your child is pitching a fit and you hope it will stop.

Since we cannot manufacture hope or mass product its cousins love and trust, where does that leave us? For the cynic or skeptic, hope is a word to be held at arms length and approached with all the affection of radio-active material. Yet, I cannot do that. Hope that today can be better than yesterday is at the heart of my relationship with God. But better not in terms of what's in my wallet or my stock portfolio or my health. But hope that by God's grace and guidance there is more to the future than what I can consume or understand or experience. To give up on hope for me would be like giving up on breathing.

So, as fragile as hope may be today the alternative pales in comparison. When I remember how central hope is to my faith I notice a trace of God's grace that sustains me and strengths me. God's presence is what keeps hope alive. God's presence, not the nightly news or surfing the net or even unwrapping a present, is what keeps hope alive.

So may traces of God's grace surround you this week and may it help fan the flame of hope in a way that is real and can be felt.

Blessings