I sit at our dinner table here in Chanthaburi, Thailand after leaving Africa almost two weeks ago and flip through my journals. I’m three down since the Race began and I’m searching for one page in particular, which might take a bit of time.
I’m looking through my thoughts, reliving situations and emotions, reading conversations that I’ve had with God in these past months. As we approach month 8 debrief and the last big leg of this Race, I wonder what I look like now. I’m curious to see what I’ve learned, and how I’m different.
Scattered throughout the 340 pages of my first journal, which covers Romania, Moldova, Nepal and India, are these thoughts:
Dream. I dare you to move.
Oh Gungor. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the dust.
You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us.
Your kingdom come, Lord.
I want to FLY.
I declare that A-squad will MOVE THE MOUNTAINS.
Write. Think. Dream. Imagine. Live. Adventure. Explore. Be. Create. Thrive. Believe. Dare. Capture. Ponder. Love. LIVE.
I want big dreams. I don’t want to waste my blip of a lifetime and do nothing with it. God, I want to dream big.
Nothing is too hard for you Papa; nothing is impossible. Father, I want impossible.
I want it a lot. The things that seem hard or crazy – do things like that.
Found it.
Page 89. Yes, I number the pages in my journals. October 1, 2011. Saturday. 7:00 pm, church in Targu Mures, Romania. And yes, I write down when and where.
“Dream BIGGER Jenna. Dream BOLDER.”
During worship that night at church, I heard him whisper it to me. That I can dream big. That I’m supposed to. I had been dreaming big things, imagining what it would look like if and when earth looked like heaven.
For the first four months of the Race my mind was blown by how big God is. Blown by his faithfulness, his provision, and his goodness. Astounded by what he has in store for me and for his children. Flabbergasted by how much he adores me.
Then I got to Africa and somehow I forgot it all.
I found myself in a desert place, wandering aimlessly, wondering where Jesus was. And those three months in Africa were hard.
But! Near the end of my time there the Lord reminded me of what I had learned in the beginning.
One day in Uganda our team took a trip to see Sipi Falls. After church we grabbed a bus and headed two hours from Busia to camp out for the night. The subsequent two-hour ride was probably one of my most enjoyable experiences in all of Uganda. Chilling in the back corner of our bus by the window, I plugged in my music and watched the world go by.
As the wind blew in my hair, I saw it all: girls skipping rope, men sleeping in the shade under trees, abandoned railroad tracks, red dirt, a family of four on a motorcycle, rundown buildings, a university building with uniformed students, African trees, shack-turned-stores, people walking hand in hand, women with their babies strapped to their backs as they carried baskets on their heads.
It was beautiful. Calm and breathtaking, I felt like I was seeing it for the first time. I had grown so used to hating my time in Africa that I had stopped seeing the beauty.
I spent those two hours talking with God. We had a good chat but the thing he left me with wasn’t what I expected. Of course.
He told me to reclaim my imagination.
Believe and expect the impossible Jenna. You’ve lost your imagination. You need it back. Speak things that you think are impossible and watch them happen. Call people up into greatness.
During that ride I realized that I no longer believed the way I had. I had momentarily lost my ability to dream. I wasn’t seeing the world through his eyes. I wasn’t looking at reality and seeing what he saw anymore. I didn’t trust that the world would look differently if Jesus moved. I hadn’t been believing that big things happen.
I came off of that bus covered in a red film of dirt but I was refreshed.
We are meant to dream big, chase our dreams and fear not.
