Broken Dreams
On struggling to keep perspective in disappointment
As children bring their broken dreams with tears for us to mend, So I brought my broken dreams to God because He was my friend At last, I snatched them back, and cried, “How could you be so slow?” “My child,” He said, “What could I do? You never did let go.”- Sonny Delfyette
When I was little, I read the story of Solon and Croesus out of the Book of Virtues. For those unfamiliar with it, this story, adapted from the Histories of Herodotus, describes the interaction between Solon, the legendary lawgiver-sage of the Athenians, and Croesus, the legendarily rich king of Lydia (and also probably the first ruler in history to mint his own coins). The king, always eager to show off the riches and success of his kingdom to distinguished visitors, invites Solon to see his treasure houses, tour his palaces, behold his prosperous and happy kingdom, and eat a sumptuous meal at his table. After giving him the royal treatment, Croesus asks a loaded question: in all of his travels, has he ever encountered anyone more fortunate than Croesus? Who, in Solon’s learned opinion, is the happiest of men?
Solon’s reply shocks the king: “It is Tellus the Athenian. He was neither rich nor poor, and all his children were good and noble; he lived to see them give birth to their own children, and died an old and respected man while volunteering to fight for his country.”
Perturbed and still fishing for verbal affirmation, Croesus asks who else Solon would consider to be happy. Time and again, Solon cites commoners who had lived decent and upright lives and died honorable deaths.
The moral of the story: happiness is not found in circumstances, no matter how pleasant or unpleasant they may be. Happiness is found in the overall narrative arc of one’s story. Knowing that the story of your life is a good one with an ultimately happy ending (“happiness” being understood in terms of meaningfulness, not simple pleasantness) can make almost any circumstance endurable. Lacking a sense of the purpose or trajectory of your life can make even momentary comfort or luxury at best meaningless, and at worst, almost unbearable: enough to make Solomon in all his splendor to cry out that everything is “meaningless! Vanity of vanities! Chasing after the wind!”; enough to make Richard Corey “put a bullet in his head.” Without a narrative, life is indeed just “one damned thing after another”, as Arnold Toynbee opined, and even if each damn thing taken in isolation is pleasant enough, the collective weight of them is enough to crush any soul in the end.
So how do we find that narrative, and how do we sustain it when its threads seem to get lost in the weeds of life?
There are only two ways, as far as I can tell.
One is simply to take the narrative that we are fed and to change when it changes. We have no dreams except those that are given to us. When the newest shiny widget comes out, we will line up dutifully to buy it and consider ourselves to be “happy,” at least until we find something new to dull our hunger. It is the TikTok dream: we live by distraction and for distraction, hoping never to slow down long enough to have to hear that gnawing, whispering voice asking, “Is this all there is?”
The other way is faith. It does not necessarily have to be faith in God, but it does require a vision, a dream of the way things were meant to be, hope that things can change to be that way, desire to be a part of that change. Faith means staying that course even when that vision is blurred, even when it does not look like things will ever be the way they were meant to, even when change seems impossible, even when you feel shut out of any meaningful opportunity to participate in that change. Faith is holding onto a dream that is dearer and realer than what you see with your waking eyes.
These are not the cheeriest of reflections, particularly for a Monday morning. Nonetheless, they are the ones that have been simmering for me this past week. I must confess that I am feeling low on faith. Not so much faith that God is there; in contrast to the common conceit that faith is mere wish fulfilment or emotion that is blown away by reason, for me, it is my reason that maintains my faith when my heart would gladly give it up. I am convinced, even if I do not want to be, that the story my faith tells me is true. I believe—appearances to the contrary—that goodness, truth, and beauty exist, and are not just social constructs or self-interested inventions; that, as Martin Luther King claimed, the “moral arc of the universe is long, but it does bend towards justice”; that, as CS Lewis wrote, “We love and reason because God loves and reasons, and He holds our hands as we do.”
However, I do struggle with my place in this story. I struggle to see, even if I conceptually know, that the present struggles, annoyances, and tedious routines of domestic life are an integral part of a picture much larger than my solitary life. I struggle with my broken dreams and the seeming silence of God before them.
Dear God:
I have done a good deal of complaining about you recently, but precious little talking to you. I miss the days when I could and did tell you everything—and what was more, when you seemed to answer. I miss You. I miss knowing – at least believing so strongly that it felt like knowing—that I had You, that You had me, that I was Yours, and that You were working Your perfect will and writing Your perfect story in and through and with me. I miss the knowledge that You were there, watching, because believing that Your love’s wisdom was using my circumstances to bring about some great purpose could render any discomfort, any suffering into pure joy.
But my eyes are blind, and my heart is deaf, and without the sense of Your presence and reassuring hope, even such a comparatively pleasant life as I lead becomes unbearable tedium, and even the trifling setbacks or inconveniences I suffer feel like unbearable agony.
Teach me to dream, Father. If I ever knew how, I have forgotten. It may be that, like the poem says, You cannot do anything for my broken dreams because I did not let go. But if that is so, it is not for want for trying. As long as I can remember, I have asked you for a dream—a calling—a vision—a mission. And as long as I can remember, I have strained my ears in the silence to try to hear Your reply.
Very well, then, I concluded: perhaps it was that Your vision for me was to make my own vision—to use my own gifts in a way of my own choosing, confident that You did not need me to accomplish any of Your purposes. After all, as Milton noted, “thousands at His bidding speed, / and post o’er land and ocean without rest.” Perhaps the “mission” that You had for me was simply to become the kind of man with the kind of character who could joyfully and confidently use such gifts and circumstances as were entrusted to me as a reflection of Your grace and character without getting stuck on myself. If this were true, I should not wait for some epiphany from on high, but pursue such visions as were laid upon my heart with the confidence that You—giver of every good and perfect gift—would bless them, if they were truly good.
This I have endeavored to do. But time and again, these dreams have foundered on the rocks and reefs of circumstance. My vision is insufficient. Give me Yours. And if Your vision for me is to “stand and wait,” give me the grace to do that joyfully and with a full heart.
Amen.
Salman Rushdie has said there are two great questions in life. Where do we come from (what I phrase as how did we get here as a species or why are we here?)* And now that we are here, how shall we then live? Francis Schaeffer published a book with that title in 1976 and approached it from his religious beliefs.
We are told by experts in human behavior and wise ancient writings that searching after happiness will end in futility. In Ecclesiastes Qoheleth of course concludes that all is vanity except for perhaps work. Indeed, he is so right in my experience. The first verse and ending are really forgeries and adulterations. however**
Indeed, current psychology treatments suggest it best in our lives to find peace, not happiness and that seems to be much of what you are seeking along with meaning. In my opinion to "find" meaning in life is a false teaching; we make meaning, we don't find it, which gives us an advantage to change it to changing circumstances instead of a one size fits all package. Even though our lives are short, we have already won the lottery since about 80% of zygotes die before reaching age 15, through failure to implant, failure to not miscarry, failure not to die at birth, or just a few hundred years ago, about 50% of children born before modern medicine died before age 5.
In some ways I think it may be a curse to be instilled with a core desire to seek after and make a life full of meaning, to set a bar so high. It would appear to my observations that few people are burdened with such thoughts few bitten by the existential bug. Congratulations, you were picked. Life wants to divert you from attaining it or even having time to think about it swimming against the strong currents of life. Certainly in the past when life spans were very short, attacked with disease and starvation, just eeking out a living from day to day kept most people from even having time for those two questions.
I wish for you continued resilience. In those times that seem like meaning is receding despite your best efforts, press on. Especially in these times and generations where it appears people will need to change course approaching life more often than they would desire. Huge life changes such as having children or retirement will hit many who thought they could avoid existential questions. Even when you may feel as if you are not contributing to a sense of personal fulfillment, those around you are touched with your kindness, your compassion, your intellect and your morals. The seeds you are planting may not show visible fruit for years.
For me the search for meaning starts with Veritas Super Omnia. Reality is important. Dreams need to have some grounding; a dream of becoming an NBA star at my height and age is not one I should be pursuing. Or theoretical physics. Find out what you do well and chase it. That can be frustrating. So many people who are a great success ("I can't believe they pay me to do this", who established incredible companies, services, etc.) have a litany of failures. How did a door to door salesman survive rejection after rejection? Perhaps he thought every 'no' got him closer to a yes. If Qoheleth didn't have a satisfactory answer, maybe we should not be so hard on ourselves.
* https://www.facebook.com/reel/742523801395910
**The beginning and ending of Ecclesiastes are forgeries, added later. “Because if you were paying attention, then you noticed a major shift in person and voice at verse 9. Suddenly it is clear that someone other than Qoheleth is speaking. Indeed, the Teacher is referred to in the third person. So it looks like the Teacher’s last word on this book came in verse 8, where in both the original Hebrew and in the English translation the very last word is “Phhhht!”. In literature this is called an “inclusio” because it ends the book the same way it began. If you compare Ecclesiastes 1:2 with 12:8, then you will see that those two verses are nearly word-for-word identical. Hence, the Teacher’s final statement is that Hebrew word we looked at in the first sermon of this series; that throat-clearing word level, which I’ve been loosely translating as “Phhhht” throughout this series.
But that’s hardly a hopeful way to end a book! So at some point some scribe or some editor or some monk who was copying this book in a monastery somewhere, tacked on verses 9 - 14. Since “Phhhht” did not seem like a proper way to end a Biblical book, this unknown person decided to round things out with the more pious sounding sentiment of “Behave, or else!” We end on a note of law, a note of “trust and obey for there’s no other way.” We end with a reminder of judgement as a goad to spur people to lead moral lives.
But that is not the way Qoheleth himself wanted this book to end.”
Hoezee, Scott. Ecclesiastes 12 “Days of Youth”. Calvin - Christian Reformed Church.
Very transparent and thoughtfully written