Last week on my birthday, my mom told me she read the Bible all the way through for the very first time the year I was born, in 1984.
“I decided I probably wouldn’t ever find the time to do it–I’d never be less busy than I was right then with a newborn, one year old, and two year old, so I just did it. I read all the way through the Bible that year. And except for a few odd years, I’ve read it through every year since.”
My mom has read through the entire Bible more than thirty times, and what’s more is this: it felt like she was letting me in on a secret when she told me. The room we were sitting in hushed with reverence, or maybe it was awe. She was almost too humble to even say it out loud. Thirty times or so, she said. She’d lost count.
I know she was washing diapers and rocking babies and dealing with a very, very sick husband that first year. I know before that she dropped out of college and gave up her dream of getting a fashion degree. I know her life didn’t turn out the way she had pictured it as a fresh faced young girl, the first in her family to ever go to college.
I know she doesn’t look back and regret for one minute letting old dreams pass her by. She is pure joy, delighted to spend my thirty-sixth birthday with me doing nothing more than crossword puzzles and eating leftovers.
She’s taught me that success means absolutely nothing because this old world has absolutely nothing to offer. No paycheck, no beautiful home, no perfect marriage, no health or cancer, no education or dream job, no promise of tomorrow tempts her to take her eyes off Him. Devouring God’s word, eating it is sweeter-than-honey, every day of the calendar, every spare minute in hot pursuit–this is what we’re made for. Her devotion has set my own feet on the treasure path. Her dreams died and birthed a generation of Jesus lovers. What she forfeited down on this soil will bubble and spill into eternity.
It makes worldly wisdom taste foul and stale.
Now listen to the words of Rachel Hollis:
I am successful because I refused to take no for an answer. I am successful because I have never once believed my dreams were someone else’s to manage. That’s the incredible part about your dreams: nobody gets to tell you how big they can be.
Let’s talk about the goals you have for your life and how you can help yourself achieve them. In order to do that, you have to name your goals. You have to shout out your hopes and dreams like the Great Bambino calling his shot. You need the courage to stand up and say, “This one, right here: this is mine!”
You have to decide to pursue your wildest dreams. No matter what they are, no matter how simple or extravagant…They’re your dreams, and you are allowed to chase them–not because you are more special or talented or well-connected, but because you are worthy of wanting something more.
Girl, Wash Your Face
I have just a couple more lies to address regarding Hollis and the modern American church (to catch up on this series, read part one and part two), but I want to emphasize how sad it makes me to read her words and simultaneously seeing a generation raise her flag as something true and trustworthy. It is a recipe for disaster, broken homes, abandoned children. I know this because my own mother was not a Rachel Hollis, and all five of her adult children are in hot pursuit of Jesus.
Phil Vischer, the creator of VeggieTales, wrote a fantastic memoir fourteen years ago. I may have quoted this here before, but it’s worth repeating:
I am very serious when I say this, beware of your dreams, for dreams make dangerous friends. We all have them–longings for a better life, a healthy child, a happy marriage, rewarding work. But dreams are, I have come to believe, misplaced longings. False lovers. Why? Because God is enough. Just God. And he isn’t “enough” because he can make our dreams come true–no, you’ve got him confused with Santa or Merlin or Oprah. The God who created the universe is enough for us–even without our dreams. Without the better life, the healthy child, the happy marriage, the rewarding work.
“God was enough for the martyrs facing lions and fire–even when the lions and the fire won. And God is enough for you. But you can’t discover the truth of that statement while you’re clutching at your dreams. You need to let them go. Let yourself fall. Give up. As terrifying as it sounds, you’ll discover that falling feels a lot like floating. And falling into God’s arms–relying solely on his power and his will for your life–that’s where the fun starts.”
Me, Myself, & Bob, 2006
Lies of Rachel Hollis and the modern American church:
LIE #6. “They’re your dreams, and you are allowed to chase them.“
One thing that I really admire about Rachel Hollis is her down to earth way of encouraging young mothers. She writes of those early days of parenthood, around week six or seven of a baby’s life, where sleep deprivation is beginning to take its toll, self-pity is at an all time high and patience at an all time low. And she utters these wise, wise words: Make a list of two things: Are you taking care of your baby? Are you taking care of yourself? If you can answer yes to both, you are slaying it. Let everything else go and do what you have to do.
I love this advice. It is super timely and relevant, perfectly true and simple. Let things go and focus on the main thing. But it ought not end with mamas and caring for infants. This wisdom can also be applied to dreams and every lifelong pursuit. Are you taking care of what needs to be taken care of?
Unfortunately, we don’t think dreams and children coexist, or that they might be the same thing, or even worth the same approach. Both in our girlfriend Hollis language and also in the modern American church, we view dreams as something to pursue, but people as something to put up with. For a time we might patiently use the two-box checklist, taking care of ourselves and our people–at least till our circumstances change–but rarely in our American culture do we find this satisfactory. Ask any woman who has taken off six weeks of work to birth and attend to her brand new baby, and they will tell you of friends and family who have asked when they plan to head back to work. We grasp for any hint that a mother has not given up on a truer calling, a career, a dream. And after all, with friends like Hollis, don’t you think you deserve the chance to find yourself outside of the box of motherhood? Aren’t we all made for more than dirty diapers, spit up, and nonexistent REM cycles? Good heavens, don’t let your children slow you down!
In the modern church there is also a ladder of power as in the corporate world. We want good leaders, we pay good leaders. Who would want to tend infants in the nursery forever?
I remember a church where a pastor was hired. On his first day on the job, his very first Sunday morning, before his head even graced the pulpit, it was announced to each Sunday school class that there would be no more Sunday school after that day. Sunday school was henceforth cancelled. Oh, how the people were upset! Years of Sunday school, relationships, teachers who loved little children and planning the lessons–all bulldozed at a moment’s notice to make way for the plans of the new pastor. It was devastating.
Many churches are split over the dreams of one person. Much love is abandoned in pursuit of what the world tells us is important, and who is important. Dreams will damn you, even if they are yours and you’re allowed to chase them.
We ought to keep a short checklist and let the rest go.
LIE #7. “Nobody gets to tell you how big your dreams can be.“
Rachel Hollis once made the point that she has a wonderful team of people who help her run her life so she can coach businesses, help women find their true calling, and spend quality time with her husband. Not the least of these is a very faithful nanny whom she thanks profusely in the notes at the end of the book. I wonder if her nanny has any big dreams, say, other than to be a nanny?
The problem is, our dreams always step on the toes of someone else.
When my puppy was a few months old, I took her to visit a dog trainer. It was a one hour consultation, and I followed my GPS to a large building a mile away from my house. At the corner of this monstrous gray building was a small door with a worn sign above it, Dog Training. Toward the other end of the building, about thirty yards down, I saw a big yellow banner. I parked my car, put my dog on leash, and walked over to get a closer look. Jesus and Tacos, it said. Sundays, 11am.
As the dog consultation appointment was winding down, the trainer advised me to meet him again for a follow-up session. “But we’ll have to meet somewhere else,” he said, and I sensed sadness in his voice.
“I’ve rented the corner of this building thirty years and a church just bought us out. At first they said we could keep leasing this place, but they changed their mind all of a sudden. The pastor is kind of famous, I guess–a podcaster and that kind of thing. They say they need more room.” He shrugged.
“I’ve been here working on Sunday mornings and there’s never more than ten cars in the parking lot. I don’t know what more room they need.”
Yes, you can dream up your best case church scenario, your seeker-friendly, open taco bar, chase-down-any-goal life, but don’t forget about your nanny. Don’t forget about the dog trainer in the corner of your big building who could stand to be shown a little mercy. Don’t forget that the purpose of your church is to make Jesus known, especially to the people you bump elbows with. Don’t forget that your dreams usually have a large footprint. It will cost someone else’s dream for you to pursue yours. It always will.
There is an incident recorded in the Bible of a couple of friends of Jesus (two of his disciples and possibly his cousins, even) who approached him and said this:
“Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask.”
(By the way, when my kids preface any conversation with this, I’m immediately suspicious and inclined to tell them to get lost.)
They wanted special treatment, they told him. One to sit on His right and one on His left in glory. You see, they thought they had a pretty good idea of the sweet life Jesus had in store, and they wanted dibs. They wanted to ride on the coattails of some big dreams.
This caused a ruckus among the other disciples. Mark says Jesus called them all together and said, those people who are non-religious love to flaunt their authority and supremacy over others, and they force their power on them. But it should not be like this with you.
“For whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave to all.
For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”
Mark 10:42-45
I think the great people among us tend to look a lot more ordinary than Rachel Hollis or people with theology degrees, offices, and reserved parking spaces.
They slip into the mundane and scorn money and fame in pursuit of Jesus. They kill their la-la dreams and hush every lie that they are missing out on something big, because they know better.
They live lives that might look like slavery to our “enlightened” culture of self-actualizers–say, a mom or dad doing the daily grind of raising and feeding kids and changing dirty diapers. They see people as people, not as stepping stones, children as their greatest asset, God’s word as the only truth worth listening to. They don’t care so much what they look like because they care more about Who they represent. They lose count of how often they’ve read their Bible, because they’re wrapped up in the greatest love story of all time.
They have discovered the secret of becoming great–and it has nothing to do with their dreams.
Oh, friend, I hope you can see right through these lies, these half-truths, these sneaky ways of getting us off the path of following Jesus.
Dreams make dangerous friends. -Phil Vischer
Always enjoy reading your posts.