The Dream Center in Carbondale isn’t what I expected.
The building’s kind of nondescript. Inside, things are plain. The furniture’s a bit worn around the edges. It’s serviceable, but certainly not fancy.
At first glance, one might feel that the concerned people need to change the furniture, maybe buy a fancy table, drawer pedestal, or a bench desk from firms like office monster that can quickly deliver the products and help change the look of the place.
Even the lighting isn’t perfect, part of the sound system’s broken.
By material standards, this place likely wouldn’t be anybody’s notion of a dream.
It’s not exactly a “dream” ministry, either. The senior pastor drives a bus and picks up folks who need a ride to Saturday evening dinner and church-after he gets the volunteers organized, makes sure the food will be ready, and welcomes the guest speakers. He doesn’t have a fancy office or a big team of assistants.
I sat in the back, waiting to speak, and wondered to myself, “How can a place like this be a Dream Center?”
Then I laughed at myself and wondered what I expected a Dream Center to look like. What’s your visual image of a Dream Center?
Isn’t it curious how easily we get caught up in materialism and outward appearance? Listening to the worship music, I thought about my definition of a dream.
A dream is the God-inspired desire to share your unique gifts and passions to serve others and change the world.
Who says any of that has anything to do with money, buildings, or anything the world commonly associates with success? No one, of course, but there I was, trapped in the notion that it was somehow odd to seek dreams in a plain-looking building.
When I started speaking, I looked into faces searching for hope. These folks were mostly there because they’re struggling. Some came for a free meal and a bag of groceries; some desperately wanted to leave with some sense that they could escape the crippling sense of emptiness and isolation that starves their souls.
Before I started, Becky whispered in my ear, “Let Jesus speak.” Faced with that sort of need, that’s the only thing you can do. So I told my story, assured them the only thing that got me past my nightmare was God’s grace. I told them no matter what happened, hopeless is a lie.
I trust that Jesus spoke to some hearts through my words.
Afterward, I had a few minutes to watch as things wrapped up. I counted about fifty volunteers who gave up their Saturday evening to welcome, serve, and worship with some people who needed to know someone cared.
A dream is the God-inspired desire to share your unique gifts and passions to serve others and change the world.
Fifty people were sharing their gifts and passions, serving, changing their corner of the world.
Dream Center, indeed.
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