My life is beautiful, come to find out.
One of the reasons it’s beautiful is this: I’ve learned the cost and the absolute necessity of dreaming.
I believe that when you put Adam and Eve in the garden you’d planted, you didn’t tell them what you wanted it to look like. You taught them how to garden, and then wanted them to imagine with you. To dream.
If I could face you
What could we become?
“Trust is knowing who I am and who you are.”
After an hour of swimming in your stars, swinging from the rafters of what seemed like endless possibility, I had asked Dave for a definition of trust.
That’s what he said. Knowing who I am and who you are.
Love always trusts.
As man looks at outward appearance, we look with you at the heart. As they measure behavior and fabricate separation, we no longer regard anyone according to the flesh.
“Now I know in part, but then I know fully, even as I have always been fully known.”
“We fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.”
Trust is knowing who I am and who you are. You - you in me, you in the person in front of me.
And oh, how we want to be one. No matter the cost.
It gives me permission to create space to experience you in the person in front of me. Because I know who that person is. I know you in him. I know that it’s a matter of time before we all fully become - before we live as sons and daughters of God. Could it be that my trust could pull the you into its orbit, into this moment in spacetime, for me to see and touch?
Yet to open my arms to this is to also open them to pain. What if the trust I extend results in betrayal, the false self?
What if the bread you extend results in blood?
When you fashioned your son Judas, you didn’t sculpt a traitor. So he isn’t one. Period.
Trust is a mirror that shows the other who he really is. Either the false or the true will respond. And in that unknown lies the great mystery of this age.
Trust is dreaming, what could we become? And I’ve learned the cost - and the absolute necessity - of dreaming.
What cost. I look back on this life and see that we have spread out our hands again and again to people who have, in fear, crushed them.
I nod. I remember how blinding fear can be.
I sigh. I mourn. I weep with you. And together we say, they know not what they’re doing.
And you smile, tender. And you say, that’s my girl. The dreamer.
What did you call me?
Come on, you know you can’t help it. Couldn’t turn it off even if you tried.
It’s true. You catch me and heal me every single time, and we re-emerge into the world with wider wings.
You take after your Papa.
What necessity. What is life if we don’t dream together? I don’t know. There’s nothing to look at if we can’t see.
“When all things are subjected to Him, then the Son himself will also be subjected to the One who subjected all things to Him, so that God may be all in all.”
In subduing all things under him, the Son himself in his own submission to the Father will confirm that God is all in all.
“Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord.”
For this reason you can afford to be absolutely settled and rock-solid in faith’s persuasion and always ready to go beyond where you would have gone before. Your doing now is inspired by your knowing that you are in him. If his resurrection is yours, then his victory over sin and death is equally yours.
How is it that we overcome death by dying?
What mystery.
Let’s go practice resurrection together.
1 Corinthians 15:28, 58