"Here Comes this Dreamer"

When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up? What did you dream of being, of doing? A lot of little boys dream of being an astronaut, exploring untouched and unseen extraterrestrial objects and worlds. Some want to be a police officer, or a football player, or an archeologist. Boys want to do things that excite them. Or perhaps they want to follow in the footsteps of someone they admire. My father was a flight engineer in the Coast Guard. He and his crew would go on Search and Rescue missions and save the lives of stranded and shipwrecked seafarers, and sometimes they would bust drug smugglers, trying to bring illegal substances into the United States. I can't tell you how many times I thought about doing that with him. I dreamed of being a hero.

It's funny now that I think about it. Why is it that our dreams are so often translated into careers? What I mean is, you never hear about a little boy saying, "One day, I am going to be a GREAT husband," or, "My dream is to be the best Dad on the block." No one ever dreams of leading a life that is intimate with God, or free from strife, or dying penniless because he's given everything he has to people in need. Our dreams tend to translate, as we get older, into the most fulfilling way to make money, and provide for our family. No one says, "I'm going to realize my dream, while working at McDonald's to pay the bills." But is that less noble, or is it more?

Somewhere along the line. I stopped dreaming. It wasn't something I decided to do. I just did. As a child, my greatest passion in the world were the martial arts. From the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, to the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers, to Mortal Kombat, my favorite subject was fighting. I even had a short-lived dream of participating in the Ultimate Fighting Championship. Six years of martial arts lessons (six days a week, nonetheless) had convinced me that my future was in the training and teaching of Jeet Kune Do and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. But then we moved away, and I never took another lesson. I still watched UFC. I still enjoyed rasslin' with my friends. I even taught people moves from time to time. But my childhood dream of being the best fighter in the world, gave way to the teenage compulsion to be the coolest person in the world. I hung out with friends, learned to shoot pool, tried desperately to find a girlfriend. And with all of these important undertakings, I never gave any thought to my future, what I wanted to do or to become.

And then it happened: Some asshole reminded me that I was going to graduate soon and that I needed to do something with my life. My new passion had become reading the Bible, arguing theology, and figuring out the way the world should run. I had become a youth-group junkie. I was at church every chance I got. I went to the "Old-Farts'" Bible Studies, kids' church, small groups, youth group, and every conference that my poor parents could afford to send me to. And so when my mentors and friends told me that I should become a youth minister, I figured, "What the hell... I've got nothing better planned for myself, right?" And off to Bible College I went.

Now, I'm not saying that I wish I hadn't come to Bible College; or even that it was a mistake. Because it wasn't. I found God at Bible College, just not in the places you would expect. I learned a lot about who I am there too. I fell in love with Jesus, and not just the theology of the Messiah, in college. And by these things I know that I was meant to go there, and that God was pleased with me for going.

But what I am saying is, I went there with no goals, or at least no clear-cut goals. My goal was: become a youth minister, take lots of camping trips, have fun until I figure out what else to do. And when it became painfully obvious that my life was not meant to go that way, I got depressed. And then I stopped thinking about it again, and just floated through the next three years at Johnson Bible College, trying to act more and more like a hippie with each passing semester.

I started going to downtown Knoxville to meet homeless people and try to convert them to Christianity my freshmen year. I was owned on more than one occasion by homeless people who had very real, very hostile words back to me. And I did something that I (still) rarely do. I listened. I began reading books about ministry to the poor and the destitute. I got into this one book called the Irresistible Revolution, by an ordinary Christian man named Shane Claiborne, and his words resonated with me. The ministry he did, the problems he had with many (not all) Western Christians and suburban churches, and his loving attitude toward all of his fellow man seemed to agree with the words of Jesus, and the thoughts that I'd had on these issues. And I began to dream again. For the first time in years, I wanted something. I had an idea of who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do.

For the past 3 years or so, my heart has been filled with a desire to serve (and be served by) marginalized people. I have found a group of others who share this desire with me, and we have sought to serve together in an intentional community of believers. We dreamed; we dreamed together. And God has blessed us. But lately, life has begun to get in the way. I have bills. I have a girlfriend that I would like to marry. I have a broken down car that needs to be replaced. I have a myriad of bad habits and generational sins that I can't seem to lay down before God [or at least leave at his feet (as a dog returns to his vomit, as they say)]. And so here I am, on the brink of realizing a dream that, it seems, God put on my heart, and now I feel so caught up in the worries of this world, and without enough faith to press on, that I'm ready to settle for "making it." I know that I can survive, but to quote the life-changing instant Disney classic Wall-E, "I don't want to survive, I want to live."

When I went through life without dreaming for myself, I thought that I was being a man of great faith. I was saying to God, "I don't want to do anything unless you tell me to do it." I mean, everything I wanted before was incredibly selfish. I wanted to get laid, be rich, feel happy, look good in front of people. All of those pursuits came up short: most people who know me realize what a goober I am, money has actually been more of a pain in my rear, happiness comes and goes, and I'm still a virgin. But I don't think that God asks us to stop dreaming, I believe that He wants to change our dreams. I think it's Buechner who said, "Your vocation (Calling) is where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."

God, give us the strength to dream, the courage to pursue these dreams, the grace to do it in Your will, and the faith to endure all opposition. Amen.