Wishes

Allow me to paint a picture in your mind’s eye: You’re five years old, standing barefoot in your backyard. The tire swing hanging from the oldest and strongest oak tree is still in full motion from the momentum you built in launching yourself forward (and sticking the landing) just moments ago. Birds are gently singing, the sun is slowly setting, and you can feel winter’s grip loosening at last in the warmth found in both the evening breeze and the earth beneath your feet. Spring has arrived. There are subtle signs everywhere. One of which stands as tall as it can, brushing against your ankles in the wind: a dandelion. You reach down and snag the weed up from its tiny roots, and immediately raising it to your mouth, you close your eyes and sort frantically through the files of your mind to find the wish that this flower was made to carry. Not daring to utter it aloud, you settle your heart upon your best and biggest hope. On the count of three, you release an intense burst of air from your lungs tasked solely with the assignment of sending those fuzzy white seeds on a journey that takes them as far away from the stem upon which they grew as possible. As they dance and ride on the waves of the wind, so do your little hopes. “Maybe, just maybe, my wish will come true.”

I don’t know where the tradition and tale originated and I don’t even remember who told me about it. I just know that I’ve never known a day where I didn’t understand that the fuzzy white flowers grew up just to carry my wishes away to be granted. Now, take note, I understand that this isn’t real or true. I know those seeds aren’t magic. All the same, however, to this day there is something about the sight of a dandelion that makes me pause and search my heart. What do I really want? Where are my hopes?

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve watched my answer to those questions change drastically, and in some ways, admittedly, I find that they probably should not have changed quite as much…

I am an elementary school teacher and my students’ ages range anywhere from five to seven years old. Seeing the world through their eyes is one of the greatest privileges I have ever had. They teach me so much. And truthfully, watching them interact with a playground full of dandelions has been one of the most impactful events that has taken place in my life recently. These kids hope recklessly; without hesitation or fear, and, when one wish is done, they are on to the next. One dandelion is never enough.

Somewhere along the line, I managed to learn to place my wishes into Hands far more steady and strong than the seeds I sent soaring into the wind as a child. But, I fear that, though I’ve set my hopes in a much safer place, I had begun to keep the deepest desires of my heart reserved for the unachievable, day-dreamy, fairytale world of dandelions.

Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. (Psalm 37:4)

I know that the Lord is not my wish granter in the prosperity doctrine, rub a genie lamp, send-your-money-to-the-mega-church-and-get-the-sports-car-you’ve-been-wanting sense of the term. But, there is precedence in this verse to trust Him with my desires. We cannot ignore, however, the stipulation that leads to this gifting of the fulfillment of the desires of our hearts. Most promises in scripture are if-then statements. That’s the nature of covenant after all. It is an agreement between two parties. Each carries a responsibility. (The Lord, in His mercy, always seems to sign Himself up for the heaviest portion there is to carry.) If, Psalms tells us, we delight ourselves in the Lord, then He will give us the desires of our hearts. It is natural and accurate to assume, then, that our desires change when the Lord is our delight. It is also natural, but perhaps less accurate to assume, though, that none of those desires given will be within the realm of the physical world or exist within the bookends of time. Did He not prove Himself to be concerned and involved with what we qualify as mundane and trivial rhythms of humanity when He robed Himself in flesh and walked among us? Be assured, my friend, there is substantial biblical evidence that shows us that what we experience in this life matters to the Creator.

The shift of heart that I’m attempting to model to you today is simple, but let me assure you that my hope is not that you begin to view Jesus as a massive dandelion filled with an unlimited supply of granted wishes. Rather, though, that you view Jesus as someone that you can trust with the real, raw, scary, unutterable hopes that you may only have previously been comfortable expressing in the voiceless wishes made over a powerless weed. Give Him what feels impossible; what seems silly. Grant Him access to hopes so precious that you dare not whisper them, fearful that they may not come true. Don’t stop at just one. It isn’t selfish, but rather selfless, to give Him all of you, one intimate and scary wish at a time. For what is a wish if it isn’t a desire, and what is a desire if it isn’t a revealed motive, and what is a motive if it isn’t the building block of how we live and, ultimately, construct who we are? Wishes then, are, in perhaps over-simplified essence, the little things our lives are made of. Why would we keep them from our truest and most trustworthy Friend?

I challenge you today to cast your hopes and cares on Him as recklessly as my students mow down a field of dandelions. When you delight in Him, you posture you desires toward Him, and there is no safer place for them to rest than in His hands.