
Sixteen years ago I grasped a vision for a radio show unlike any show I had heard before. It was a perfect fit for how God made me. It involved callers, my forte of observations and insight, my experience in radio, and people’s need for practical biblical advice. The idea came from a conversation with a man who knew me as well as anyone, and who I trusted more than any man.
I embraced the vision. I made plans, prayed, and did research. I shared the dream with family, friends, and people who could help shape the idea.
Hope’s long, slow death
After sixteen years, it’s not happening. Not even close. I wish I could describe an exciting story of spectacular failure, but I can’t. What’s really bad, is if someone ordered me right now to do The Show, I still wouldn’t know how to do it. With all my thinking, praying, and planning, I’ve never been able to explain exactly what it looks like, even to myself.
I’ve given up on it. I don’t pray or plan anymore. Today, I think maybe the whole thing was kind of stupid. I never think about it, except as motivation to feel sorry for myself. Inside, I’m even embarrassed.
All the scary parts of hope are in this broken dream: It’s unfulfilled. I’m disappointed. It dangled for a long time and I’ve quit. I’m confused. I’ve never been able to explain it to people; I don’t even understand it myself. I’m scared of the change necessary for doing it. Success is scary. Failure is scary. Plus, I’ve never really committed to the thing.
“Welcome,” I say to myself, “to scary hope.”
What happened?
One conclusion is that I never fully committed to it. I never prayed, planned, or worked as if I was committed. I dabbled, with seasons of intensity. It’s all my fault.
I have another conclusion: It wasn’t meant to be. The dream was used to shape me for God’s own reasons. It’s all about shaping. The shaping continues.
I think both those conclusions are true. Plus others.
Every time I have an idea or dream now, in the back of my mind I hear, “Yeah right—what about that radio show? What makes this different from that?”
When I hear that voice it makes me want to fight harder. Notice I didn’t say that I do fight harder. I think I’m learning what fight harder means.
Broken dreams are a great way to learn about faith, God, and yourself
My definition of hope is changing.
I’m thinking it’s more about faith, trust, and commitment, than it is about any particular results of faith, trust, and commitment.
The journey is a big part of hope. Sometimes it’s the whole thing.
Here’s what I mean by ‘journey’ –
The thing I’m going to learn, and the person I’m going to become, may be more valuable to God than the results of any particular dream.
Pursuing the dream changes you
Now that’s something to hope for.
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To start at the beginning of 31 Days of Scary Hope: encouragement to go from IS to COULD BE, click HERE.
photo by indoloony