“God is big.”
“We are praying for…
“With God, all things are possible.”
When I hear fellow Believers make these statements, I’m simultaneously impressed and skeptical. With all my heart, I want to smile and nod. I want to buy in with unbridled abandon. I want to be so ding-dang faithful that doubt is but a blip on the screen. But really… How can there be a bright future for this dark world?
Then recently I listened with an unexpectedly expectant heart to the words of Jon Peacock at Mission Church in Roselle, Illinois. He was dreaming big for the future of their church and explained why he and others in the congregation are wildly generous with their finances. (And, from what he said, it sounds like we are talking Wild, Wild West kind of wild).
John is looking “fifty years from now – way out there…” He’s picturing a congregation so all-in for Jesus, their faithfulness will change eternity for people they don’t even know. He prays that his tribe will be captivated by the possibility they could make a difference in the lives and hearts of generations to come, that they will believe in something bigger than themselves. He believes they are people who believe that this big mess can be blessed and beautified by a Savior who loves us – ALL of us – more than we can imagine.
I’m still impressed. And intrigued. And still skeptical, although not quite so much.
Oh, not about the “all in” part. I get that.
But good golly, Miss Molly and *DARN it* already with the balance part!
Staying centered continues to elude me. I get all squishy inside, thinking about, hoping for, and praying for a better world we dream of giving to our children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. And what I can do with my gifts and talents.
All good, right? Sure. Until I start wondering if I’m good enough to be part of this grand plan.
Not good enough sometimes feels like not talented enough. Like, my writing is fine, but what I want to say has already been done and done better or done enough. Really and truly, thank you to those of you who cheer me on. “You go, girl” keeps me in the studio when I’m tempted to answer the classifieds for “part-time sales help wanted.”
And then sometimes, not good enough feels like not worthy enough to be a difference maker. It’s a lie I can’t shake. I can’t believe I’m worthy of joining that great cloud of witnesses or that my legacy could ever be as strong as those who have done remarkable holy work with no shadow of “self”. Others who went authentically “all in” for Jesus.
That voice, the all-things-evil-and-dark one, is little more difficult to shout down. And I’m enormously grateful when some of you rally with me when those words drown out all others.
And then there’s finding that balance between believing a miracle could happen and keeping humble, remembering that nothing, no matter how small, when done in the name of the Savior is seen and cherished by God. How do I expand the Kingdom in a mighty way… without expanding myself at the same time?
Bottom line: Who am I to dream big?
Even after hearing John’s mighty words, I’ll continue to agonize over the direction the world is taking – the greed and power of the self-centered, the closed minds of the “us 4 and no more,” the allure of security.
A single message (no matter how powerful) or tearful moment of hope (no matter how heartfelt) isn’t going to cure that which ails me, the chronic imbalance of a wobbly Believer. I’m not sure the shroud of “who am I…?” will ever completely fade.
But, my lovelies, I’m going to work on it. I’ve already “gotten out of the boat” as some of you know … and I’ve walked to the end of the plank about other tricky issues. Like finding the grit to buck the system and fight for what is right. Like walking out or speaking up when the standard has always been sit down. Like giving myself permission to dream big and hope for miracles when the world – and my own lie – tell me I am too small.
So, join me as I pray for and believe in all things mighty and miraculous. As I dream of a better world. As I “Hope for the helpless, rest for the weary, love for the broken heart.” (Third Day, Cry Out to Jesus.)