I remember where I was when I first realized that I loved to dream. Resting my head on the glass, I looked outside the window to see trees swaying and clouds undulating in the sky. It was on the way to school — all those early mornings going to and fro, from the bus stop to the front doors of my school’s brick building. No iPhones or AirPods in those days, just a clunky walkman and my case of CDs — Be Not Nobody by Vanessa Carlton, Human Clay by Creed, and Fallen by Evanescence.
Those mere thirty minutes of bumpy turbulence and teeth-chattering on the cold bus every morning were an exhale for me. I looked forward to them more than I did learning about isotopes in earth science, more than I did seeing my friends.
My heart came alive and my mind would awaken on that drive across counties, under tunnels, and through streetlights. It was a solace for me — a safe space for my ideas and dreams to come to life. I dreamed about the future and who I might become. I dreamed about the places I longed to go and the people I longed to love. I dreamed of a future filled with love and hope. I dreamed of redemption, of seeing restoration in the lives of those I loved.
All of those days on the bus, looping in and out of my neighborhood, in and out the streets from school to softball practice and back again, I didn’t know I was exercising hope. I was practicing my ability to think beyond what I could see, to believe in something better.
I was coming to discover that the act of dreaming is a defiant escape from reality. Actually, dreaming is not simply a way to escape but rather a faithful way to exercise imagination.
But these days, dreaming doesn’t come so easy. I have emails to send, FaceTime calls with family to make, bills to pay, and doctor appointments to attend. My days are spent juggling my son and his questions, and my mind is filled with more doubt than curiosity, more cynicism than optimism, more hurt than hope. Dreaming comes especially hard on the days my health hits me the hardest, when I am bone-tired at best and can barely give my brain space to breathe, let alone dream.
I can’t help but wonder, Do you feel it too? It seems our lives (and even the lies we tell ourselves) keep us from dreaming, keep us from making space to practice imagining. We don’t set aside time to imagine, and we don’t give ourselves permission to dream. Imagining isn’t often a part of our daily lives — or our faith.
We get stuck in the mundane and the misery that surrounds us — so much so that we forget that imagination is the foundation to our faith. Faith invites us to envision and embrace a King and a kingdom we’ve yet to see with our eyes.
Perhaps, today, it would help to hear that you don’t have to fear what you’ve been told or taught about dreaming; dreams are not always untamed tangents that take you towards evil.
And perhaps dreaming isn’t always about determination and direction or taking the next right step. Maybe dreaming is not always about deciding your destiny or unlocking your fate for the future.
Instead, think of dreaming more like breathing — a way to exhale, a way to keep life pumping in and out of your lungs. Could it be that the dreams that come to you while you wash the dishes are a way to work delight into your days? Might it be that these visions help you see your life and our world with an eternal perspective?
I no longer take bus rides to school, but I love looking out the window when I drive and dreaming about all God is doing in my life and in this world. I love taking breaks during the day to put on headphones and listen to music that awakens my mind to recall the greatness of our God. I need these moments — not only to make me feel good but to challenge my faith to grow.
So this is my hope for you: May you embrace your desire to dream and imagine like you embrace your need to breathe. May you see it as necessary and vital. When you wash dishes, I hope you dream. When you drive, I hope you dream. While you cook, I hope you dream.
In the middle of the mundane, I hope you dream about your children and the foundation you’re setting for their future. I hope you imagine the way your love is laying down a legacy, brick by brick. I hope you dream about God’s kingdom here on earth and imagine the ways in which His light will break forth through the earth, bringing hope and healing.
May your dreaming be like breathing, and may you always remember that your breath is the very exhale of your praise and prayers to our very present and powerful God.
How beautiful thank you! I so needed this. So often we are discouraged from dreaming and that is very sad. You have a beautiful way with words. I am going to “dream my heart out” today!! Sharon
Sharon, I do hope you continue to dream your heart out. Reminding myself to do so, too!
Thanks for this beautiful reminder that it’s ok and good to dream. God bless!
You are so welcome—keep dreaming, Susen!
This spoke to my heart. Thank you for the wisdom and encouragement of your words. As a widow my dreams have changed, like they do in any stage of life. It has been a gift to continue to dream, to have those dreams continue to draw me to God.
My heart to yours. Sometimes dreams die and change. We grieve them and give them up. Yet, as we turn to our loving Father…he breathes life into new dreams and desires, reminding us there is still goodness to be lived out in this life. May it be so for you, Lisa.
Wow, when you ask God a question be prepared for an answer! The other day I asked God what the point of having an imagination was. Then the very next day I read in Ann Voskamp’s WayMaker that “The way not to lose hope is not to lose a holy imagination in the ways of God.” And here I read, “I didn’t know I was exercising hope. I was practicing my ability to think beyond what I could see, to believe in something better.
…we forget that imagination is the foundation to our faith.” A friend asked me yesterday how she could pray for me and I answered honestly that I needed help to have/keep an eternal perspective. Then I read, “Might it be that these visions help you see your life and our world with an eternal perspective?” Bless you, Rachel, for sharing life-giving words I needed to hear. It means a lot.
Pearl, goodness your name is beautiful. Grace to you, as you turn your eyes to see with eternal perspective. May you dream, imagine, and pray with a faith that goes beyond all you’ve ever seen and known. So glad you’re finding breadcrumbs that lead to Him : )
What a beautiful tribute to imagination and faith! Thank you for sharing. 🙂
You are so welcome, Michelle! Grace to you as you imagine!
“May your dreaming be like breathing, and may you always remember that your breath is the very exhale of your praise and prayers to our very present and powerful God.” Amen. Just beautiful, friend. Thank you. I’m already breathing easier, ready to let my dreams wander, linger, and grow.
Oh Becky…I do hope you’ll let your dreams wander, linger, and grow. You (but also the world) will be better because of it…
I wonder, if we read the book of Psalms through the filter of hope, what dreams might we find? I think we’d be surprised how many there are. By putting our imaginations to work and fleshing out these dreams, we’re sure to increase our faith and encourage our spirits. Thank you for your inspiring post, Rachel!
Love your thoughts here, Nancy. So many earnest desires and dreams to be found in the book of Psalms. Honest pourings of people reaching out for a truth and a hope believed but not yet seen. We live by faith. So thankful for your thoughts here : )
Rachel,
Children play make believe & dream big wild dreams. Somewhere between childhood & adulthood we stop dreaming. Life happens & we get stuck in the mundane routine of living. We need to go back to dreaming. Let’s put our imaginations to work & see what God can do with them.
Blessings 🙂
My children teach me and bring me back every day. And I hope that never changes…and that I always heed the call. Love your thoughts here, Beth. And wishing the same for you. Keep dreaming!