The Day I Died

I died the other day. No, it wasn't suddenly. It had been happening slowly. It started the day I stopped dreaming. You see, my dreams were too big and I was inadequate. Or so I thought and so I had been told. "You're too shy. You're too sick. You're too depressed. You're too broke..."

So I gave up those dreams. And I stopped dreaming altogether. That's the day I died. The fire that burned so brightly through sickness and despair was snuffed out. After all, isn't it time I started living a little more "realistically?"

But then I wonder, in deeming my dreams too big, am I making my God too small? I mean, "realistically" I couldn't have done half the things that I've done in my life. That's the miracle of God. He helps us do things that we couldn't possibly do on our own...

I died the other day. But I know a God that can bring dead things back to life and accomplish the impossible. Even dreams that are too big for lives that are completely inadequate.