dreams, plans, God, all y'all

Cooperating with God's plans for life can make people uneasy, for a few reasons. Well, I should speak for myself: deciding to cooperate God's plans for my life has made me uneasy (and sometimes still does).

Here's why: God's not the only one with plans. I have life plans too. We all do. We dream dreams. We harbor hopes. It challenges us to figure out how (or if) some of our hopes and dreams fit with God's plans.

I've sometimes thought that -- in order to follow God's plans for my life -- I'd have to, as a prerequisite, kiss goodbye and detonate other cherished dreams and hopes. I'd have to walk away from them, and never look back.

(walking away as dramatically as possible, of course...)

You ever feel like this?  I'm sure you do. It's wrenching to consider. 

This came to my mind while watching some rehab work on a nearby home. In the span of a few hours, workers totally ripped the front porch base away!

And yet, they only removed the porch base. The existing roof and columns remain, dangling there (it's honestly a silly sight, these spindly 2x12's supporting everything). There's a clear purpose for utilizing this makeshift support: a new porch will soon be built where the old one was. The new porch will connect, incorporate, and support the existing roof and columns.

This is comparable to our plans, and God's plans.

Don't hear what I'm not saying: following God's plans could mean letting go of some dreams, hopes and wants. That happens.

It could mean letting go of that person. Letting go of a professional status. Letting go of the name-brand coffee. Letting go of the gaming record. Letting go of a coping mechanism that's served us OK, but no longer does. Letting go of bragging rights. Letting go of a personal identity painstakingly duct-taped together. Letting go of cramped security. Letting go of that subscription. Letting go of the pride. Letting go of that crowd. Letting go of rights. Letting go of having the last word.

But God has a way, a track record, of making use and re-purposing new plans alongside (some of) what we've learned along the way of chasing our dreams, so that eventually, nothing whatsoever goes to waste. He also, in time, replaces dashed dreams with dreams better than we could have possibly imagined.

Sometimes God's plans for us means we need a stronger base foundation, so as to be ready for what the dreams may eventually require of us. So we grit it out.

Sometimes it means we're in a holding pattern, dangling by some spindly supports while we wait for that new, firmer footing. So we trust.

Sometimes we're the rickety porch, needing repair, having no choice but to trust the builder will be able to distinguish between what needs replacing, and what's worth salvaging. So we wait, and hope.

Right now, it's just boards holding up this porch roof. But when the work is done with this porch, it'll look better -- and will be stronger -- than before.