Author: Sara

I carried a dream – back in those days.

And then the dream died.

“unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies”, Jesus said, “it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”

That didn’t feel very helpful, back in those days. How am I supposed to know what to do with that cold, hard, dead dream that sits in ones soul and refuses to let go?

On the day the dream died, back in 2009, I wrote these words in my journal: “Waves of discouragement, sadness, hopelessness. I feel like I’ve run out of faith – my well is empty. “

How can such hard pain produce many seeds? How can seed be multiplied in death?

It didn’t seem possible, so I tried to ignore it.

I pretended I didn’t care anymore.

I wouldn’t let myself think about it.

I certainly couldn’t let myself dream that dream anymore … it just hurt too much.

Do you have a dream? Are you braver than me? Brave enough to hold that dream close and hold your breath in anticipation? Brave enough to wait for the promise? Brave enough to trust when all hope is lost?

Back in those days, when the dream was still alive, we drew up plans you could touch – rough drawings for a building.

A building that would be a place of safety and peace for searching young people. A place to train and teach. They were simple plans – but they were the seed. Then, miracle of miracles, in the face of impossible odds, we had land – an acre to build that dream. For the seed to grow. So more plans were drawn – in more detail and greater color as hope suddenly had form!

Then, on that fateful day in 2009, it all faded to nothing, like a mirage. Bureocracy and red tape and roadblocks, and the plans were slowly tucked away, pushed to the back of a box somewhere. That seed of hope slowly died and was also tucked away. But not forgotten. Never forgotten. How could they be forgotten when the dream still lingered like a rock in the center of my stomach?

I’m guessing you know how that feels. We’ve been feeling these things since the beginning of time. 1,000 years before Jesus was born, King Solomon wrote “hope deferred makes the heart sick” Proverbs 13:12. Your dream might look different – but we all know the giddiness of hope and the agony of loss.

Then in 2016, the Spirit began to blow on that cold, buried seed. Glimmers of hope began to appear, but I was so scared. Those are the days I wrote these words: “Today we spent 5 hours talking about the dream. We did more than dream vapor – it is a real and deep sense that God is on the move in this – and the time is NOW… Lord, I stand here in fear and trembling. I have stood on this threshold before. And I have had my dreams dashed.”

My heart quakes when I read those words. I feel that tension still – that longing to hope and yet fearing hope itself. It didn’t happen right away – those were the first signs of spring when you know winter isn’t over yet. But slowly, that seed began to thaw and show signs of life. And then the floodgates opened… There were more plans drawn – pages and pages of detail. It was a time of wonder and endurance – when God’s promise to open the storehouses of heaven become reality, the flood can be overwhelming. Like desperate Peter, scrambling in a sinking boat because the catch of fish was too much to take in, we felt like we were sinking, some days. And other days it felt like we were dancing on the waves. It was all the stuff of miracles. The smile of God.

And these days, I walk the halls of the physical reality of that dream – realized in grander detail than I ever dared hope for. Every part of this building is built on the promises of God – literally. Scrawled on the inside beams of the walls and the concrete of the flooring are promises that poured out of the hearts of the many who were part of the multiplication of the seed.

My original dream – the one I lost – was just a single seed. Jesus said, “if it dies, it produces many seeds.” God combined the seed of my dream with the seeds of so many others, added His supernatural multiplication – and today we do life together in these walls. We laugh together and pray together. We create and learn together. We worship Jesus – together. People use words like peace and safety when they walk in these doors – because this was built on the promise of God and not the hands of man. “In that day they will say, ‘Surely this is our God; we trusted in Him, and He saved us.” Ps 62:8

But this story isn’t just about me or my dream – the seed God buried deep in my heart. This story is about the Sower – the planter of Hope and the Reaper of miracles. The Multiplier of dreams and the Resurrecting Power that turns all death into life. Slow your racing mind for a moment. Quiet the distractions that fill your world with noise. Listen for it. Do you hear Him?

What is your dream? What longing do you carry buried in your heart, planted deep and desperate for hope? What hope have you given up on and tucked away in the deep recesses of your heart because the dream was too impossible? Do you feel His Spirit breathing? After all, that’s what resurrection does – it moves the power from us to the Source of all Power – to “Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us” (Ephesians 3:20)

Hold that dream that lives in your heart – and breathe deep of His presence in that place. Water that seed with the Word of God. Release it to Him to grow it. It will look different than anything you imagined – that’s the beauty of it all. “One thing God has spoken, two things I have heard: “Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love” Ps 62:11-12. Ultimate Power fused with Unfailing Love – complete safety. In this sacred space, you can breathe deep… and rest.

For this isn’t the end of the dreams or the quietly waiting seeds. Some have been buried deep in my heart for longer than this one. And I am at peace with it. The restlessness has faded into eager anticipation.

I feel the winds stirring – “Aslan is on the move”, my soul whispers.

and so I watch the horizon and wait.