We drive by the neighbor’s back yard, I mention, off hand, “Looks like they’re building a tree house.” These are the where-do-they-get-the-time neighbors. The ones who start projects, and finish them.
They always have something really cool going on. And not like, “Hey, mommy got a flat tire! Let’s stand outside while Daddy fixes it, and hopefully doesn’t teach you any new, ahem, ‘words.'” type of project, but a “Let’s all build a tree house!” type.
My daughter starts peppering me with questions.
“How big do you think it will be?”
“Will it connect to the other things they built?”
“When will it be done?”
It’s 8:10am, and we’re doing the usual run to school, so I’m tired and about to start the daily, “FOR THE LOVE! Will you just brush your hair!” rant. So, I just sort of answer halfheartedly.
“Not sure …”
“We’ll have to see …”
Half wishing I hadn’t brought it up, but also understanding her excitement, because HELLO, it’s a tree house and even at 40, those are still cool.
We drive on, and it hits me, this is exactly what I do to God.
I’m on a journey to a God-sized dream that has hit that phase. That phase all God-sized dreams reach. When everything crashes and things look so bleak.
That flesh it out phase, when you’re just putting one foot in front of the other. The part where you want to lump it all because you think, “MERCY! Who’s bright idea was this anyway? This will never work!” I just want to hide under my comforter.
Interestingly enough, I see others around me racing towards God-sized dreams, and they’ve all hit the same place, recently. It’s like a God-sized dream emergency room around here. I’m just glad I’m not in charge of triage.
I know this is normal. I know this is part of it. But still I pepper Him with questions.
“How long will this phase last?”
“Will it ever make sense?”
“When will it be done?”
Then, when the answers don’t come or aren’t what I’d like, I want to run and hide.
At that point, I need to go back and remember all the times He parted the Red Sea. All the times He did the impossible. The truly impossible.
Friends, I can say I’ve seen mountains move.
I have stood still and watched as God fought for me. —Exodus 14:14
And this? On the road to God-sized dreams, the place I’m in seems like hope is lost, but I know He is bringing good out of it. On the road to Emmaus, hope seemed lost as well, but little did they know Who they were talking to, and how quickly their spirits would be revived.
He wastes nothing. And what the enemy means for harm, He will use for good. —Genesis 50:20
Those are the times I most need to remember He is the Master Designer. He has it all in His hands. His plans are good. Plans for tree houses, for God-sized dreams. Plans that we saw coming, plans we didn’t. Held by Him all the same.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord,
“Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”