A Tale of Two Girls

Once upon a time there were two young girls. One, a tall blonde with honey-colored eyes. The other, a short brunette with eyes the color of the sea after a storm.

Their friendship was the storybook kind. Anne and Diana. Meg and Jo March. Lucy and Mr. Tumnus.

The blonde had a voice like an angel, intelligence that put her in college at sixteen and a two-year degree under her belt by eighteen.

Her dreams were as vast as her talents. Theater? Opera? Best-selling book? Doctorate?

Yet, when the call came from the music group, “travel through Europe?” something deep inside her, a voice she had trained herself to listen to, said, “No.”

So she stayed. Married her high school love and bore their first son ten months after the wedding. To many, herself included, it seemed that she had compromised on the American Dream of success. And in many ways she had.

But a deeper, stronger calling ran through her heart. One that said, “Follow. Surrender. Lay your dreams in the palm of my hand.”

Ten years as a wife and a mother have done a transforming work on her heart.

“Too bad about her dreams,” many will say. But she will just shake her head and smile. Some days she misses them. But every day she is pouring out her education into raising strong, stable children. “And my life isn’t over yet!” she says.

The other girl? Her dreams were different. A marriage at eighteen would be nice, she thought. Six, maybe seven children? Hm, seven, yes. A nice prime number.

She too finished school early, testing out of subjects and running off to college at sixteen. But she had no degree of choice and was not interested in occupations. Just a husband and family will do.

Yet, when the question came, not too long after her eighteenth birthday, and the husband and family were within reach, something deep inside her, a voice she had trained herself to listen to, said, “No.”

She walked away from the husband of her dreams into a life of travels and careers. She found herself singing in front of great crowds of people and her writing brought in extra money as her career took off. Then the call came to work overseas and she was leaving everything again for a new adventure.

To many, herself included, it seemed that she had sacrificed her dreams of motherhood for a life of international travels. And in many ways she had.

But a deeper, stronger calling ran through her heart. One that said, “Follow. Surrender. Lay your dreams in the palm of my hand.”

Ten years of traveling and sacrificing have done a transforming work on her heart.

One day while singing in front of a crowd about the faithfulness of God, she realized the irony of life.

It seemed that the honey-eyed girl who never sang a sour note should be on the stage and the stormy-eyed girl should be in the audience with a baby on her hip.

Yet, instead both girls suffered the loss of their dreams as they followed the same God.

And it seems to me that the reason runs clear and strong:

God is not as concerned with the fulfillment of dreams as He is with the transformation of hearts. 

In fact, I would go so far as to say that it did not matter, really, what dream they had. God would have been sure to say, “Give that to me?”  For He knows the emptiness that comes with fulfilled dreams and un-transformed hearts.  It leaves hurting people who cling to things that will never last, in hopes of finding something that will.

He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he can never lose.
-Jim Elliot

By all means, dream, and dream big, but whatever you do: make sure that the King-of-all reigns supreme in your heart.

And never sacrifice serving Him for fulfilling dreams. 

“But the fun part about God?” says the girl with stormy-blue eyes, “is that my life isn’t over yet either.”

 

This, of course, is the story of two girls, not of all girls. Their story was crafted just for them to touch places in their hearts, to heal unseen wounds and to transform them into the image of their Creator. Your story will be different. It will be yours. It will be crafted just for you to touch the places in your heart, to heal your wounds and to transform you into the image of your Creator. 

God will ask of you “Give me your dreams?” for he asks that question of all. But it may not be for ten years. Perhaps it will be for twenty. Or ten days. Or ten minutes. Or the rest of your life. But my prayer for you? That you will heed His call to whatever place He leads. That you will know Him deeply and truly and will walk in His ways all the days of your life. And that you will remember: there are no formulas for following God.  It’s all about the practice of listening.