dreams this big.

Today, I sat on my balcony, listening.

Speak, even if your voice is trembling

please, you’ve been quiet for so long

believe, it’ll be worth the risk you’re taking.

“Do you really have dreams this big for me?” my tears whisper as they spill out of my eyes, like little drops of dew rolling over my eyelashes as these words overcame me. 

I first listened to this song after our first full week or two here in town. And I knew immediately it would become an anthem over this season here. I sat on my bed and went through the songs on the album I knew, and then the new ones began. This might have been the first one. 

You’re afraid. But you can hear adventure calling.

There’s a rush of adrenaline to your bones:

What you make 

of this moment changes everything.

I hadn’t heard truer words in awhile from a piece of music. It perfectly captured the words jumbling out of our mouths, the emotions that I was fumbling around with, the thoughts that were in a million different directions at once in my head. Questions lingered. This song asked them, but in hope.

What if the path you choose

becomes a road?

The ground you take

becomes your home?

And then spoke to the deepest question. The one we were afraid to ask. The one that seemed the most shaken: Where will we end up? What will all of this be for? 

The wind is high,

but the pressures’ off,

I’ll send the rain, 

wherever we end up.

And today I sit on my peaceful balcony—yes, peaceful, even with the noise echoing all over this beautiful city—just listening. Letting the lyrics wash over me in the same way these tears wash my cheeks. I lay my head back against my chair. I rub my arms to warm up in the chilly evening air. His presence is so heavy over my body. I can feel His promises upon my skin. They’re so close, so at hand. He is near. 

What you make 

of this moment changes everything...  

I am the wind in your sails,

I am the wind in your sails,

I am the wind in your sails.

This moment in His presence does change everything. It births belief in my doubting, insecure soul. It takes the pressure off as I realize anew just how much this is His work, not mine. 

And He reminds me, "Yes. Dreams this big." The breeze whispers my phrase back at me. I turn in the Word to where it says, "He makes His ministers the winds." (psalm 104.4)

And as I keep reading, even just glancing over the plethora of promises in all these pages—my tears blur them completely. I’m so overwhelmed by our God. He’s letting me behold Him in all these secret places and sweet spots. The birds get louder than the noise, and I know He’s here. He’s speaking. These aren’t my words. 

"So, write, My darling. Even if they never make it past these places. Even if they remain secrets, between You and I, for more time than you thought they would. Just write. Meet Me in these moments, and write."

Okay.

He does have dreams this big for us, here and now. He does. For me, it’s writing. It’s being here in the land of promise. It’s speaking His name to those who’ve never heard it before. What are His dreams this big for you?

Set your sights, 

to look far beyond familiar.

In a rising tide,

you’ll find the rhythm of your heart

and lift your head:

now the wind and waves don’t matter.

In Him, the questions become statements.

The path you choose

becomes a road.

The ground you take

becomes your home.

And the promises take the pressure off. 

The wind is high,

but the pressure’s off. 

I’ll send the rain,

wherever we end up. 

wherever we end up.

He knows where we will end up. And He’ll send the rain. It may be the rain of a thousand tears. Or the rain of sweat-filled, labor-intensive days. Or the rain of His presence hovering over a dry and weary land, making springs of water gush forth in the valleys. He’ll send the rain. Wherever we end up.