My thoughts on a hundred different topics have likely changed by now, but most of them are so subtle that they are imperceptible to me in my current dynamic environment. One precious area of mental change that is more obvious to me, though, is my perspective on suffering and on dreams.
I suppose like most people, I naturally considered suffering something to be minimized, avoided, and dealt with. Especially in regard to dreams, suffering seemed to be something to be prayed against, to be fought against, and to be rejected. Suffering was the antagonist to fulfilled dreams, I believed.
But I’ve seen much more now. I’ve lived in places stripped of beauty, of hope, and of purity. And I have watched as my traveling companions and I have left bread crumbs of our hearts along this path. How could we not? We have wept for injustice of sex slavery, of child abuse, of seemingly endless cycles of poverty. We have held hands and looked into the eyes of suffering. And let me tell you: that is where Jesus is.
Jesus is in the dump. He is in the red light district of Bangla road. He is in the emaciated bodies of Cambodia. He is in the orphanage. He can’t help it. Jesus is drawn to suffering like an alcoholic to a bar.
This suffering is colliding with visions of my future as I try to marry my hopes and the brokenness I have seen.
Increasingly, I’m seeing that there are two ways to dream. One type of dream starts with preexisting goodness. This dream wants to join in beauty, comfort, and success to achieve more beauty, comfort, and success. This type of dream isn’t necessarily a bad one. In fact, this is how many of us have been taught to dream.
The other type of dreaming demands a prophetic vision—a drive to pioneer life in places that have historically choked it out. This type of dream seeks out suffering. It doesn’t run away from the broken or the ugly. Instead, it draws in close until it can look suffering straight in the face; until it can see Jesus there.
So many of my dreams have been “type one” dreams. I’ve dreamed about creating a holistic medical center with an emphasis on community growth and development. But every time I’ve pictured it, I’ve pictured making beauty, health, and comfort in communities that already have beauty, health, and comfort. Hmm. It seems bizarre writing it out. But it just seems easier that way, doesn’t it?
It scares me much more to consider my dreams in the context of suffering, but increasingly I am drawn to where Jesus is. And he always seems to be sitting with those who are suffering. If I want to live with him, I’ll need to get ready to get my hands dirty.
Our main message and philosophy as Christians is resurrection. We forget sometimes and think it’s about justice, peace, or moral fortitude. Faith in Jesus, and the worldview that follows, is so innately supernatural. It doesn’t re-brand morality or life blessings in a 2.0 version. It doesn’t super-charge our own goodness. Instead, it seeks out the hopeless, lifeless people and places in which to plant a seed of a dream.
By definition, a seed of resurrection can only be planted in death. And the seed of resurrection is the one we are planting. How can we hope to bring this resurrection kingdom to earth if we are preoccupied with avoiding suffering?
It’s not just unnatural to embrace suffering; it’s supernatural. If our dreams are to partner with our father in heaven, they will no longer regard suffering as an enemy to be fought. In fact, suffering will be one of the main determiners of what dreams are worth pursuing. We will seek out the poor, the lost, the hungry, the abused, the hurting, the in-need-of-a-friend to find how our gifts, talents, and experiences can be used to plant resurrection life in those places.
Jesus’ downward mobility in glorifying God ended with him martyred for the injustice and suffering of the world. The wounds he bore in glory was the incarnation of embracing suffering. He used his own body as a garden in which to plant the seed of resurrection. By embracing the fullness of death, he was able to bring forth the fullness of a resurrected life.
May we not be afraid of suffering. May we instead have the grace to plant seeds of Jesus’ resurrection life in the areas that most grieve our hearts and our world. May we celebrate the resurrection of Christ—not just with family gatherings and special foods—but with dreams that seek out suffering for the sake of multiplying his resurrection.
“I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone. But its death will produce many new kernels—a plentiful harvest of new lives” (John 12: 24)…. “For this very reason, Christ died and returned to life so that he might be the Lord of both the dead and the living” (Romans 14:9).
