The Death of Hopes and Dreams
Well... certain hopes and dreams.
There are many ways I could describe this past year.
The easiest would be to label this ‘the year of covid’ or ‘the year of the 2020 election.’ Those titles feel too simple though. Neither gets at the heart of what it’s been like to experience this year. Then I’m tempted to emphasize my biggest experiences of the year by referring to 2020 as ‘the year of lockdown’ or ‘the year of planning, then re-planning, then re-planning a wedding.’ While these titles are technically true, none of them feel fully true. They hit the target but miss the bullseye.
For me, the most honest way to describe 2020 is a year where so much has died.
By this, I’m not referring only to physical deaths; at least for me personally. Although so many have lost loved ones this year, I have been fortunate to have no family members or close friends pass away. But even so, death has still come to define this year for me due to the death of so many of my dreams, illusions, hopes, and assumptions.
My love of scheduling and knowing what’s coming has been put to death again and again. With mourning, I’ve attended the funeral of the trust I’d placed in certain evangelical leaders and institutions. My subconscious belief in total American exceptionalism has been laid 6 ft. underground. We’ve collectively witnessed the public execution of civil discourse and national unity. There’s no more breath in the idea that I can do anything I put my mind to. Plans have been canceled. Aspirations abandoned. Plus, I feel a weighty grief for all that’s died which I simply haven’t noticed yet.
No, I haven’t lost as much as some. Still, my pain is real, personal, and worth processing through. For too long I’ve apathetically avoided reckoning with the implications of these deaths. Trying to sort through all that’s been lost has felt like too much for me to handle.
Then, God reminded me that’s exactly the point. I was never meant to mourn or grapple with these deaths without Him in the first place. So now, as I try to come to terms with this year of death in light of who God is and how He works, I’ve felt Him start to sort these deaths into a few categories:
Completely Dead - Going into 2020, I was frighteningly unaware of the number of places my heart would seek comfort and security before it would seek Christ. So, while my flesh has winced as God melted those idols and laid waste to those fake refuges, it was good that they died. Certain deaths are necessary if my relationship with Christ is going to become more alive. For that reason, I pray those idols and refuges stay completely dead.
Mostly Dead - In this category, I suspect, fall the institutions and ideas that I made ultimate when they were only intended to be good. Only God can be my ultimate savior and king. That’s why whatever it is that I’ve let sit on the throne of my heart that’s not God has to die a little bit to remind me that’s not where it belongs. God uses these ‘mostly dead’ situations to reorder my affections and priorities. This process is still not fun, especially since what’s dying aren’t inherently bad things, but it’s necessary.
Awaiting-Resurrection Dead - Though it’s too early to tell if any of the deaths from this year fall into this category, here lie certain God-given hopes, dreams, and talents that, at some point, I came to believe belonged to me as opposed to remembering they were gifts entrusted to me to steward for His glory. I suspect that in God’s perfect timing He will resurrect certain aspirations and skills of mine, but only after their deaths have forced me to truly release and return them back to Him. From dry bones in the valley (Ezekiel 37), to the Son of God, to the soul of every Christian, I serve a God with vast experience in resurrections. And that’s just what He might do with some of the deaths from this year. However, even if He doesn’t, and every death falls into the first and second categories, God is still good and He still loves me.
I’m not naive enough to believe that all the dying is done. Winter is nearly here. Covid cases are rising. My heart continues to churn out idols that will again need to be torn down and destroyed.
But still, the promise of spring pushes me forward. News of promising vaccines encourages me. Reflecting on the truth that I worship a God who resurrects gives me hope.
In the meantime, I’ll do my best to remember every death can be used by God for my good, for the well-being of my neighbor, and for His glory.
The Rec Center
After the Last Border - A combination of personal stories and informative summaries that results in an impactful, empathetic glimpse into refugees and the historical development of refugee policy in the US: 9/10 would recommend.
Washing and vacuuming your car before a long road trip knowing it will be nice to have an initially clean environment, while also knowing it’ll quickly descend into chaos and crumbs: 5/10 unsure if I’ll regret doing this, so tune in next week.
Trader Joes’ Mini Dark Chocolate Mint Stars: 7/10 would recommend accidentally eating half a box in one sitting.
The fact a baby giraffe was just born in the Memphis Zoo and they named it Ja-Raffe after Memphis Grizzlies’ star Ja Morant: 8/10 gotta love pun names.
This Cultural Moment - A podcast helping explain what it looks like to be a Christian in a post-Christian world with hosts John Mark Comer and Mark Sayers: 8.5/10 would recommend.
Photo by Paweł Czerwiński on Unsplash