Dreaming Wide Awake

We have our childhood dreams of candy castles and pink ponies, our school day dreams of becoming president or an astronaut, we have our romantic dreams of love songs and fiarly tale weddings, and of course the ever famous American dream. I have been made aware however, in the past weeks that an essential mode of “dreaming” has gone missing, its face not even on the side of a milk carton…nor on the back page of the church bulliten. Where are our Jesus dreams? Why don’t I dream about what life could hold walking in Christ shaped footprints?

Have Fear and Apathy worked hand in hand to kidnap the vision of an adventure filled life and replaced it with a monotnous nightmere we mistake for reality? Perhaps we hide behind “God’s will.” That is to say that we hide by thinking we shouldn’t dare dream of looking after Ugandan refugees if God’s will is that we teach 7th grade math. Or try the other way on for size; we shouldn’t dare dream of turning our college campus on its head for Christ because God’s will is that we move to Mexico to work in an orphanage. I don’t mind dreaming that I’ll marry a brown haired man with blazing green eyes when there is just as much chance I’ll meet a brown eyed blonde, we have no problem dreaming about securing a white picket fence or a top notch armani suit job even if we know we may be pushing paper for years. So why can’t I dream about brining hope to empty american junior highers as much as I invision bringing hope to an indigenous tribe in south america? I highly doubt God is sitting up in heaven saying “Charlotte get your head of the clouds, stop dreaming about hope, adventure, truth, and freedom, and for pete’s sake get back to your homework and leave the topic of loving the homeless alone.”

It’s as if I have spent my whole life under monochromatic eylids and am waking up to find possiblities in brilliant shades of Christ. It’s as if I have uncovered a treasure map full of long forgotten quests and endless trails with verses for clues and souls saved for “x marks the spot.” My appetite has been wet, my soul is hungry for adventure, and my heart ready to follow. How many late night sleepovers have consisted of dreaming out loud about first dates, china patterns, color schemes, and baby names? Why can’t my late night talks with friends have that similar tone of hope and excitement but exchange the location of first dates with nations desperate for the gospel, can we not exchange debating over baby names with praying over the names of lost friends? Why can’t I?

I can, and I will.

I am dreaming about replacing the gun of a child soldier with a warm blanket and loving words, I am dreaming about kicking down the door of trapped child prositutes and pulling them out one by one, I am dreaming about junoir highers being lights on dark school yards filled with perversion and hurt. I am dreaming of standing on the boarder of a closed country and praying it open, I am dreaming about loving my family with sincere Christ like love, I am dreaming that God can use my writing for His glory. I am dreaming that I can expand my intellect listening to biblical lectures on a boat in the carribean, I am dreaming about revival in the heart of the American church, and I am dreaming about what it would be like to walk hand in hand with Jesus. My head may be in the clouds, but my feet are firmly planted on the Rock.