Bad Dreams

             The blacksmith takes a tool and works with it in the coals; he shapes an idol with hammers, he forges it with the might of his arm. He gets hungry and loses his strength; he drinks no water and grows faint.

          The carpenter measures with a line and makes an outline with a marker; he roughs it out with chisels and marks it with compasses. He shapes it in human form, human form in all its glory that it may dwell in a shrine. He cut down cedars, or perhaps took a cypress or oak. He let it grow among the trees of the forest, or planted a pine, and the rain made it grow.  It is used as fuel for burning; some of it he takes and warms himself, he kindles a fire and bakes bread. But he also fashions a god and worships it; he makes an idol and bows down to it. Half of the wood he burns in the fire; over it he prepares his meal, he roasts his meat and eats his fill. He also warms himself and says, “Ah! I am warm; I see the fire.”

From the rest he makes a god, his idol; he bows down to it and worships. He prays to it and says, “Save me! You are my god!”

They know nothing, they understand nothing; their eyes are plastered over so they cannot see, and their minds closed so they cannot understand. No one stops to think, no one has the knowledge or understanding to say, “Half of it I used for fuel; I even baked bread over its coals,
    I roasted meat and I ate. Shall I make a detestable thing from what is left? Shall I bow down to a block of wood?” (Isaiah 44:12-19)

 

Sometimes, our dreams fail, our hearts break, and we’re afraid to dream again. Sometimes, we pick bad dreams and even make them our gods. They may seem exciting or even noble, but somewhere along the line, we become the belonging of what we thought belonged to us. As a simple and silly example, during my first year of taking care of my father in Florida, I noticed that the newspaper deliverers tended to toss the paper onto the grass. I decided to be helpful and redelivered the papers to the steps. I still do it when I notice a paper.  Somewhere along the line, it became an obsession, which might not have been so bad if another newspaper hadn’t tried to increase its circulation by delivering a paper to every lot in the park. I could not ignore them, and I was angry with the publisher. They haven’t done it since 2020, so I don’t know how I would react now.

Another petty god to which we tend to be drawn is image. I want to be seen as competent, Christian, wise, capable…  Other people want to be seen male (when they were born female) or female (when they work born male.) Others want to be seen as rich, powerful, intelligent, educated, kind, caring, inclusive, etc. Identities and roles can be as dangerous.

This may be the reason for my anxiety over most of my dreams. Are they the wrong dreams? Are they just arrogance on my part? Am I seeking to “be like the Most High God”? These aren’t necessarily bad questions until they become petty gods and get in the way.

Let’s turn the tables. Recently, I challenged a friend to list some dreams. What are yours? Make a list, and present it to God for confirmation.