Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Rev. Will Clapp

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
 we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
and our tongue with shouts of joy…” Psalm 126:1-2a

Lately, the quote, “he was the dreamer,…and the dream,” has been stuck in my head. I heard it while binge-watching a TV show that I am too embarrassed to name, but that’s not the point of this. I heard one of the characters say this in the process of describing a dream they had. It was this beautiful image of a person hoping and wishing for a better tomorrow, but not realizing that they were creating a small little slice of it in the present. I am still struck by how poignant that image is.

It makes me think of other great dreams. I think of Dr. King standing on the steps of the Lincoln memorial, telling the world about his dream of a more equitable world. I think of Nelson Mandela and his dreams of a just South Africa. When I think about them, I see that they may have never fully realized the large-scale of their dreams, South Africa still has problems of corruption and injustice towards women, and we have seen recent reminders of America’s insipid racism, but they lived those dreams in their own lives. 

They loved.

They were just.

Everyone was one of God’s children to them.

Lent has made me think of another dream. I have been reading the Gospels in my personal time, when I’m not binge-watching Netflix, of course. There I have been reacquainted with the dream of Jesus. That dream that the kingdom of heaven would be here amongst God’s people. That the world would be turned, not upside-down, but on its ear and the whole world would be equal; the dream of a continual move from first to last, and last to first, and back again. 

Yet I am also aware that there is a not yet.

I see in our church that we have a long way to go to realizing our next dream. We are between pastors, between leaders, and we feel the pressure of that. It seems like every week, a little something here or there is different. It gives the ground of the church I am still getting to know a consistency like sand being moved by the tides. I can feel it moving around and under my feet. 

It is unsettling, but I see a dream. I’ve heard it in the sermons preached by our members from the pulpit. I’ve listened to it being shared in the hallways. There is a dream taking shape. Our small little corner of the world is starting to dream a big dream of a wonderful tomorrow. We are beginning to dream of a new tomorrow. And when those moments of dreaming have happened, I’ve heard the laughter filling our mouths. 

Can you see the dream?

What more is there to be dreamed?


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