I was talking with some about their dreams. Some wanted to be football players, actors or actresses, super heroes and firemen. But most of the time, those dreams end up just being wishful thinking. As we get older we grow out of them.

We all have dreams as , but when we grow up, we have to know the difference between a God-given dream and a wish. Beyond our wishes, we all have dreams placed inside of us by the Creator of the . In fact, the Latin word for “desire” means “from the Father.” One way to tell if a dream is really from God, is that the desire won’t go away. You may have had for years, but you still can’t let go. In fact, you may have tried to let it go, but it won’t let go of you.

Today, search your heart to know the difference between a play dream of your childhood, and the dreams and desires placed in you by the Creator. Allow those God-given dreams to surface, remembering He placed those desires inside of you for His purpose and your success. Ask Him to order your steps as you embrace the destiny He has in store for you!

“A ’s mind plans his way, but directs his steps and makes them sure.”

(Proverbs 16:9, AMPC)

With Me
Yahweh, thank You for the dreams and desires You’ve placed within me for Your purpose and my success. Father, show me the difference between my childhood dreams, and what You want for my . I submit them to You and ask that You direct my steps. God, search my heart, and cause my thoughts to become agreeable to Your Word and the plan You have for me, in ’ Name! Amen.


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  1. ray032

    The year 1973 was significant to me for two reasons; the 1973 oil crisis and a particularly vivid and powerful dream I remembered on waking. It had threads of reality weaved within it as there was a blast of a good time jam packed all inclusive party in the actual apartment I was living in at the time.

    At the edge of a deep cliff overlooking the Turcot trainyards of Montreal, I had an unobstructed view of the mighty St. Lawrence River, to the farthest extension of the horizon south to the US of A.

    Suddenly, the the old, 2 story building collapsed into a pile of rubble as the earth shook violently. Climbing out and shaking the dust off, toward the northern view, I could see the real park across St. Jacques Street and the highrise buildings in the distance on the higher cliffs of Notre Dame de Grace swaying back and forth.

    A Rolls Royce was parked in the street in front of the rubble that used to be my apartment. Getting in and turning on the radio, the only thing coming over all radio bands was, “You have to go to him. He wants you.”

    Thinking that was the person I thought of as my best friend on earth at the time, I drove over to a fabulous dream apartment, not his real life one, having a commanding view of the entire City of Montreal.

    “Frank! What’s Happening,” I asked, arriving at this amazing dream apartment. “It looks like the end of the world to me,” he said. Asking “what do you think we should do?” he said, “If it is the end of the world there isn’t anything we can do about it, so let’s relax and enjoy. If it isn’t the end of the world, lets relax and enjoy anyway.”

    He put on a long playing vinyl album on a sound system looking like the kind today’s professionals use. The needle got stuck in the groove, and over and over again it played, “You can’t stay here. You have to go to him. He wants you.”

    Stunned on hearing that and backing away from the grand sunken living room, I backed into a tree standing in a corner of the room. The branches of the tree embraced me saying, “You can’t stay here. You have to go to him. He wants you.”

    Not knowing who or where he was, I was running on St.Catherine Street as it was in those days. People were running in a panic and I was running in a panic like everyone else.

    Bumping into somebody, I fell down and got up. Dodging things falling from the sky, I would stumble and fall. Getting up, I ran and climbed over collapsed rubble, falling and getting up again.

    The obstacles seemed endless. Eventually from shear exhaustion, I collapsed and gave up. I couldn’t run any more. At this point, the sky parted, and just a hand came down out of the sky, and picked me up. I woke up being lifted up in the palm of the hand.

    Maybe I was a slow learner to put 2 + 2 together, but it took two more years after that dream before I came alive to God or God came alive to me on February 1, 1975 as I was turning 30. That Day was as unexpected and as powerful an experience to me personally, as I imagine was the conversion of Saul on the Road To Damascus.

    The hand has been there for me time and time again since then.