Sometimes I dream about the magnificence.

I dream about running with the big dogs, writing the bestseller, hearing the applause and seeing the faces.

I dream of the demand and the questions, of being sought after for things and having the answers.

Those aren’t dreams that I share with others (until now, I guess) because this craving in our hearts to be known and sought after isn’t very spiritual, is it?

But these dreams do come upon me, usually as I look out the window on a day that consists of emails and sticky Cheerios underfoot. I look out and wonder if there’s meaning in what I’m doing. Is there a ripple in the world because of who I am?

I think we all have these longing questions, sometimes. Where we dream and secretly long for the public affirmation that our presence here makes a difference, that our life is the cannonball splash of impact that will ripple long after we’re gone.

We want to know that we matter.

There is a plea in our hearts for recognition, for affirmation, for certainty that when others see us they don’t see the piles of laundry and endless meetings. Instead, they see our humanity and our footstep in the world.

I sat with those dreams this morning, holding a too-ripe banana and watching children across the street run into their school. The hum of the dishwasher behind me and paper editing before me. The ticking of a clock and the wondering of purpose.

I sat with these dreams and I laid them before God. I breathed ‘I want’ and ‘I wish’ at him. I held my day in one hand and my dreams in another and I asked him, ‘Will they ever come together?’

And I wasn’t embarrassed. I wasn’t embarrassed because he already knows. He knows my longings, misplaced or not. He knows my dreams and he knows my days. He knows where I lay things down and where I fall.

He whispered back to me….”Meaning over magnificence“.

Meaning over magnificence.

As I look back at my life what do I want to see? What do I want to hear others say in testimony about me?

I want to hear that I meant something to them. I want to hear that in sitting with someone, in the quiet prayers, in the rest of a hand or the smile, in the showing up, that had meaning for them. I want to hear that there was change for them because I was faithful to the small things as well as the big things. I want to hear that there was a steady wake through the water of my life of people drawing closer to God and feeling more loved because I was there.

The dreams of magnificence don’t go away. They still sit there and pinch at me sometimes.

But the opportunity for meaning never leaves. Through the meetings, the emails, the grocery stores, the stadium stands, the pulpit, the nursery, the stillness and the riot, meaning is there, quietly waiting to be engaged and received.

When our dreams ebb and flow, the meaning surfaces. We look to the big but we engage intentionally. Sometimes they intersect, sometimes they don’t. But what a blessing to know that our meaning isn’t dependant on anything other than the opportunities that God provides and our faithfulness to join him.

I dream the dreams but I long for the meaning. The meaning is what centers my hope and keeps me moving forward.