We all lost things back in those days. Not just things … we lost people we love, memories we hoped to make, pieces of our lives just seem to have been taken away – outside of our control.
Those were the days the word “Covid” sent shock waves through our country. We all listened, glued to the news of the newest outbreak, unsure of what it would all mean for us. It was 6 years ago – do you remember? Sometimes I don’t want to – the memories can feel pretty raw. But leave it to facebook to keep reminding me …
6 years ago, I wrote this post – it was a necessary grieving that involved more than just a place. It felt like loss of dreams – loss of hope, even. Now, as I read it, I can only hear this verse on repeat in the back of my mind: ““I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten…and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who has worked wonders for you (Joel 2:25-26)
Because … this!
This place – that meant so much to me… this place – that I grieved the loss of … well, do you see the light shining from the window? It re-opened last week, and I have been watching this from the other side of the ocen with a tinge of awe and wonder.
They didn’t just pause and re-open 6 years older. They refocused and renovated. They rebuilt what was into something better. That loss I had grieved 6 years ago has come back to life in a new way. That light shining from the windows? It makes me think of resurrection.
There’s a reason God tends to look back every time He looks forward. There is a beautiful tension in the hope that is drawn from that, and I don’t want to miss that. Pause for a minute … and trace His hand in the long waiting … in the gestation of our dreams into reality. Sometimes we don’t recognize them because they look different than we anticipated. Sometimes we give up because the waiting is too painful. Sometimes He changes us, and with it our dreams.
But my friend! Don’t give up on the God who restores. Who sits with us in the waiting, who weaps with us in the loss, and who also repays us for the years the locusts have stolen. I don’t have many words right now – just a look back and a breathless prayer of thanksgiving to my God who makes all things new. (Revelations 21:5)
There is a turn on a long and lonely road that is imprinted on my soul.
It is exactly at the midway point of somewhere and the middle of nowhere – 48 miles from the middle of nowhere, to be precise.
This is the spot where I once heard God speak – perhaps the clearest in all my life.
I found myself on that road again recently, and as my eyes took in the vast miles of barenness, my heart remembered.
It was the most loudly whispered “no” I have ever heard. A “no” that still reverberates in my soul and echoes before me.
Let me back up. It had been a long, hard few years. My soul was as barren as the land it was planted in, and I didn’t know what had gone wrong. I mean, I could describe to you the litany of things that had been hard, but what had gone so wrong in my soul that had left me this dry and parched? What darkness had robbed my joy, and how had it gotten in? I needed to know…
After those long, hard few years, God uprooted me and me family, and our feet took us to a land of rolling hills and green. As we made our home in this new space, my soul began to heal. I found rest – I found myself again. The layers of pain and hard began to peel away and I began to feel alive again.
But I couldn’t shake the question that had been planted in my soul all those years: “what darkness had robbed my joy, and how had it gotten in?” I felt if I could only find the answer to that question, it would be the final key to my healing. The naked truth is – I wanted the control of knowing I could keep it from coming back. If I could only figure out what had gone wrong, I could formulate a life where the darkness could no longer get in, with walls of my own self-will keeping it out.
No matter how peaceful and beautiful life was, there was a constant nagging – like an itch in the back of my soul – that I wasn’t really safe until I knew the answer to that question. What if that darkness crept back in? How would I keep it out? I was desperate to protect myself.
Then that day arrived. The day I was to return to the place where my spirit had been held captive. It was just a visit – and yet the fear was overwhelming. Because God hadn’t answered my cry yet. And I didn’t feel like I could go back to that place – to walk those painful memories – without knowing the key to protecting my vulnerable heart.
The car slowed as it arrived at the town that was the midway point – and then we turned left. I stared out the window – at the flat, barren, red richness of that beautiful land, and my heart screamed at Him in silent desperation: “I need to know NOW! We are out of time. I can’t go back there without an answer…” And that is when He finally spoke.
It was a simple “NO”.
It was a “No” that set me free.
It was as clear to me as if Jesus was sitting next to me in that car. His next words that echoed loudly in my mind were this: “You don’t need to know why. What you need to know is: I was with you”. And that is all He spoke, on that day while we drove on that long and dusty road. Because that is all I needed to hear.
It was a “No” that set me free.
It was in that moment I saw the chains of control that had formed around my heart. He shone His light on the illusion that we can really protect ourselves, and showed me where true safety lies. True peace. True light. I had built a fortress of cards around my heart, thinking it would withstand the hurricane of life – and He needed me to know that the only safe harbor is Him. That in my darkest place, when I forgot who I was, HE never forgot. He never abandoned me. He didn’t expect me get it together and come back to Him when I was fixed … He was with me in it all. “Your walls are ever before me” (Isaiah 49:16) “ See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands” (Isaiah 49:16)
Let me be clear. It is one thing to acknowledge that our peace, our joy, or safety doesn’t come from our physical circumstances. But there is another distinction that must be made, and it is this: We say we trust Jesus – but what we mean is that we trust what Jesus will do for us. We ask Him for help – we say we trust Him to provide. But what if His provision is simply His presence?
Let’s back up a few thousand years – to an old man in a desert, arguing with the God of the Universe over the disobedience of a throng of people that God has relentlessly saved. God has finally decided to send them on their way without Him; nonetheless, He wouldn’t abandon them alone in the desert. He promised to provide for them, to send an angel to walk with them and protect them … aren’t these the very things, the provision and safety, that our needy hearts yearn for? And yet Moses knew so much more than we do, and he pleaded with God, “If Your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here…” (Ex 33:15)
Let’s race forward 400 years, to David, the man after God’s own heart. The man who knew from experience that even in “the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” (Ps 23) He had lived in fields with the sheep and in the palace of the king and his summary of it all that was, “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my life and my portion forever” (Ps 73:26)
His presence – our portion. My friend, there are so many more I could tell you about, but the most important words rest in the very promises of God Himself. Read these – just a few of the innumerable verses that help us remember … and let them envelop you in a cloud of promise and strength. Whatever deep need you are facing, there is an answer, and the greatest answer He can give us is His presence. Rest in His embrace. Let Him be your portion and let your heart be free to rest in the only true safety we will ever find.
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Ps 46:1)
“He will hide me in His shelter on the day of trouble” (Ps 27:5) “
“I will be a hiding place for you,” says the Lord, “a fortress in the day of trouble.” (Jer 17:17)
“For you, O Lord, are a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of distress” (Ps 9:9)
“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation. He is my stronghold, my refuge, and my Savior” (2 Sam 22:2-3)
“As for God, his way is perfect: The Lord’s word is flawless; He shields all who take refuge in Him. For who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God? It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure.” (2 Sam 22:31-33)
“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety” (Ps 4:8)
“I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure” (Ps 16:8-9)
So …what about that day last month when we took that left turn? My heart trembled once again – but this time in eagerness and joy. I longed to touch that red soil one more time and remember – like the Israelites of old who set monuments in places where they had encountered God. In the shadow of my hard memories, the faithfulness of God shines like a beacon. My heart remembers – and I am glad.
“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
I used to think this was my dream – but that seed needed to die. Because God had so much more to grow – so many more seeds to resurrect. They have names these days – brothers and sisters who work alongside me to make this vision a reality. Students who walk these halls with me, eager to change the world. And I believe they will.
This is the miracle – the multiplication of hope resurrected!
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.
Our God is a consuming fire 