“Joseph had a dream, and when he told it to his brothers, they hated him all the more.” (Genesis 37:5 NIV)
Rob and I wrapped up our Joseph series this past weekend, but I still can’t seem to leave him behind. In fact, we were headed to church for Rob’s final installment on the dreamer saga when fresh revelation blew in: some dreams take decades to come to fruition. Joseph’s first recorded dream happened at age seventeen, but bible scholars put him in his late thirties by the time his brothers come around mid-famine. And even when Joseph’s dreams did finally come true, they didn’t look quite like what he’d imagined. Plus, there were a lot of years of pain and questioned purpose between Canaan’s pit and Egypt’s pinnacle. We remember, God plays a long game. If it isn’t good yet, He’s not done yet.
We can pull back and look at the greater story of the gospel to see how whole millennia can pass between dream and fulfillment. All the way back in Genesis 3:15 we read of Son of Man crushing the head of the serpent, and though Christ has come and experienced victory over the grave, we are still awaiting the victory over the enemy Himself.
Dreams take time to come to fruition, but they are worth the wait when God has planted them in our hearts. When God-dreams come true: He gets the glory.
Today I am preaching to the choir because I’m not much for dreaming. I tend to live in the hard clutch of realism: it’s a left-over coping mechanism from growing up in the prodigious graveyard of two die-hard dreamers. My parents were fanciful people: Mom chased every creative butterfly that crossed her path. She died with a list of want-to’s longer than anything that could be achieved in three lifetimes. Not to be outdone, Dad hoarded favorite vehicles from his childhood, plotting to restore him in his retirement years. He passed away with 93 vehicles in his possession, not one of them personally restored and most without clear titles. I suppose, after the horrendous task of cleaning up and selling off the collective baggage of their dreams, I’ve discounted my own. I’m unwilling to leave a similar task to my own children. I’ve swung hard in the other direction. I often ask myself: “Is this reasonable?” I’ve grown quite good at convincing myself that it’s not. I’ve misplaced my ability to take risks and invest in personal pursuits.
This past week the Lord has been speaking to me about dreams planted in my heart all the way back in my youth. If I concentrate, I can just about recall my seventeen year-old-self; bright red hair, diploma in hand, heart full of hopes and aspirations for the future. Somewhere along the way, I’ve acceded. Child-rearing and pastoring and grief and grey hairs have whittled away at my ambitions and left me settled, but maybe not in the way God intended. I’m already older than Joseph was when he revealed himself to his brothers, but that doesn’t mean God can’t unearth a vintage dream for me, as well. The question is, am I willing? Do I have the courage to carry out the dream He’s nudging me towards? Or have I become too reasonable, too cynical to believe in the impossible idea that God might have something more for me?
Last weekend, Lisa Bevere pointed out how there is a difference between burying a dream and planting a the seed of a dream. I listened to her and realized that I’ve gotten so serious about this dying to self business that perhaps I prematurely buried what should have been planted. Perhaps it’s time to sow something old in hopes of growing something new?
“Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously.” (2 Corinthians 9:6 NIV)
Are there God-dreams in your story that you have buried instead of planting? Do you believe that God can unearth a dream buried in fear or frustration in a previous season?
Lord, You are the giver of dreams and the Sovereign Author of our story. Help us to hear from You and be responsive to Your leading. Let us cling to our God-dreams and dispose of our flesh-aspirations. We want to to serve You whenever and however You see fit. Amen.