Even the dreams God gives must die

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” ~Jesus

I understood that my dreams had to die.

Had I misread the story all these years? 

Isaac was God’s idea. God’s promise. Sure, Abraham dreamed of having children, but Isaac, the child of promise — this all originated with God.

It was His idea in the first place. 

Even though the dream was God’s it still had to die.

I often think of the story of Abraham and Isaac, in Genesis 22, as a story of a man laying his own love, his own hopes and dreams and desires onto the altar, willing to slay them out of sacrifice for God.

But that really isn’t the story. It was laying even the gift of God on the altar.

To die.

It was believing God to take care of His own dream. To resurrect Isaac from the dead (Heb. 11:19).

Is there anything not subject to His summons to surrender?

Do we believe that even God-dreams can be resurrected from the dead?

Must be?

Just over a year ago God gave us a dream. Nothing earth-shattering, but a simple dream to sell and downsize our home, give half of our income, pay off our mortgage, and invest more of our hearts in God’s work around the world. (where your treasure is there your heart will be…). This was not an obligation, this was a joy. What began as mere obedience has become an holy obsession. The verse is right — we aim our pocketbooks and our hearts aren’t far behind.

But this year has also been one of frustration.

Why, God? You gave us this dream. We put our house on the market, have stretched ourselves as far as we can until it sells. All the houses around us have sold for more than we’re asking. Why have you allowed it to show 80+ times without a single offer? This year feels like a big waste of time. Can you see God that there are children starving and I WANT to give to them but I have this millstone-sized mortgage tied around my neck.  And yes, there is a principle — we sow what we reap. I prayed for this house and this house I have. No complaints, simply lying in the bed I’ve made.

Then this week it finally clicked, as I gave up. Decided it was over. Came to terms with the fact that it just ain’t happening right now. God is certainly on the move and I am enthralled by His amazing work, but it is not His time to sell our house and that’s ok. 

Then while I’m hauling five yards of bark dust, preparing for our final Open House before we take it off the market, as I’m raking the hillside in 92-degrees, feeling the strange euphoria of having just let something go, the thought rests on my heart:

Even the dreams God gives must die. 

Of course. The dying thing.

I had understood that my dreams had to die.

But I had missed the whole story. Abraham lays God’s dreams on the altar, because God is able to take care of His own dreams.

Why hasn’t it sold? I don’t pretend to know. Perhaps we did entirely miss God’s will. Or, perhaps, He just wants that dream to die.

And as we prepare to take it off the market for now — to give ourselves a break and catch our breath before trying again next year — I know one thing for sure: God is more than able to resurrect all that He lets die. 

Even the dreams He gives. 

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{Are there any God-dreams that may need to die today? The tough thing about dying is that it’s just so much like … dying. Praying for grace for you today and thanks for reading.}