For the One With Hopes and Dreams

On hopes, dreams and holding on in the waiting.

“No one who’s hope is in you will ever be put to shame...”
-Psalm 25:3

“Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new…

[But] only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.”
-Teilhard de Chardin

“Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams.”
-W. B. Yeats

There’s a clematis in our garden I’ve been trying to coax back to life this summer. It’s all tangled up with the chicken wire meant to support it, so I cut away some of the dead parts and pinned it back to the fence. When purple flowers began to bloom all over it, I was delighted. A few weeks later I cut away some more dead stuff and overnight the flowers wilted and fell off. Everything about the plant was brown and crispy. I was sure I’d killed it. I wanted to cut the whole thing down and dig out the roots straight away, but my husband encouraged me to wait and see what happens. “It’s looked this bad and survived before,” he said.

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When you’re in transition between one place and the next, hope is a precious commodity. We have hopes and dreams for what our lives might look like, for how they might flourish and grow, but we’re still watching and waiting. We’re still having to trust in the unseen work going on underneath the ground.

The work of waiting is hard, in part, because we can’t easily give an account for ourselves during this season – we can’t put into words the work that is going on beneath the surface, either for ourselves or for other people. Simple enquiries about where we’re from, what we do and what our life looks like, can feel painfully obtrusive as they strike at the heart of an identity in flux. Who are you? they imply. It’s hard to be asked a question when the answer isn’t clear-cut, and you don’t know how to explain yourself.

In this season you have to hold space for the vulnerability of the unknown. As Teilhard de Chardin put it, you have to ‘accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.’ It can be a lonely place because not everyone can hold this space with you. Some people cannot deal with uncertainty and so will counsel you to abandon your hopes and dreams and come back to the safety of what is known. They say things like “prepare for the worst,” “it probably won’t work out,” “it’s unlikely to be what you’re hoping for.”

It's hard not to get sunk by such comments, partly because there’s an element of truth to them. We don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Sometimes life doesn’t work out how we want it to.

But here’s what I’m holding onto, and what I want you know, too: only God knows what your life will be. No one else can predict what will happen. You don’t have to prepare for the worst, steel yourself against future grief or decide today that things will never work out. You don’t have to listen to the voices that try to rob you of hope.

Maybe everything you’re dreaming of will come to pass and life will be beautiful (please, God). And maybe it won’t. Maybe there will be things to let go of, dead parts to cut away and things that will never flourish again. But if the worst happens, God himself will lead you tenderly through the valley of your grief. You don’t have to walk through it alone, in advance, today.

So, as Frederick Buechner said, go where your best prayers take you. Wait with hope. Rest in God’s love. Make choices that lead you towards kindness, patience and joy. Whether your dreams come to pass as you hope they will, or whether they are fashioned into something different and more beautiful than you could have imagined, they belong to you. God knows about every single one, and treats them with tenderness and care. Anchor yourself God’s goodness and faithfulness. God is not impatiently hurrying you along in this season. He can hold space for all your uncertainties and unknowns. Even when you can’t see what’s going on, God knows exactly what’s happening underneath the surface of your life. He is still nurturing you, still tending to you, still working for your wholeness and flourishing.

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Back in my garden, the clematis has begun to show signs of life. There are new shoots sprouting from stems that seemed dead, a handful of fresh green leaves have grown, and a single new flower has bloomed. I’m glad I didn’t dig it up and miss this mini resurrection. It feels like a sign that all is not lost. It feels like hope.

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Reading Recommendations

Human Bodies and The Image of God: a sermon on shame and healing, by Nadia Bolz-Weber.

I loved this sermon. I found it to be thoughtful, wise, relatable and true. I love how Nadia interprets the bible for us and I think you might enjoy it too.

Light Through the Cracks: how God breaks in when life turns tough, by Joanna Watson.

This is a collection of stories about how people have encountered God during their toughest moments. Each story is like a mini book in itself, taking you through a rollercoaster of emotions as people face some of the worst possible experiences, but find God with them through it all. It’s hopeful, doesn’t shy away from pain and shows what a difference a deep commitment to prayer can make. I definitely recommend it.

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And finally…

Thank you for being here! I love your company.

If you enjoyed what you read today, feel free to share it. That’s how we grow our community and feel a little bit less alone.

Hoping and dreaming with you,
Abby