Earlier today I read back through my oldest posts on this blog, which began last July. I’m surprised I liked what I read. Some of it was sharp and engaging. Very honest. I’m proud, particularly of one of my first poem titled Three Years, Old. I’m also a fan of this blog post: God’s Not Deep. As I peered back through my first month of writing, I remembered the energy and hope in my heart. I didn’t have goals or plans, not a soul to impress. It was me, Jesus, and my electric journal.

Last summer was one of the sweetest moments of my life. On the heels of some huge disappointments, the Lord poured Himself all over me. I stood with my mouth open, trying to drink up every drop. By the fall, I was working full-time and beginning to develop a vision for my life. Vision led to specific dreams, and dreams to goals. In the process I lost something, or I felt like I did. Something about concrete goals feels very limiting.

2021 is off to a challenging start. And I often feel as though I’m running in wet cement. My mind wonders back to last summer, the undefined hope it held. My dreams have become burdens. They are burdens I feel I’ve got to impose on the world. It’s not true. I’m wrong. My dreams are not burdens and they require faith.

On my evening stroll I told the Lord about the heaviness in my heart. I told Him about last summer and I how I feel like I’m fighting to get back to that place. Then He gently reminded me this time is special too. My heaviness concerning the future is what happens when I think it’s about me. It’s not. My walk with the Lord is about us. My future isn’t set in stone. Whatever I think I’m going to do in ten years may change tomorrow or in six months. Either way, my faith isn’t in my plans or dreams. It’s in the Lord. Of all the ups and downs of the last ten months, I’m glad I found my way back to Jesus being my future.