Restored: When Who You Are Starts to Slip Awayنموونە

Dare to Dream Again

Today, I want us to lean into something a little different: Dreaming again.

When life throws us unexpected loss, whether it’s a role, a relationship, or even a version of ourselves we once held tightly it can feel like dreaming is no longer a luxury we can afford.

We start surviving instead of imagining.
We start minimizing instead of hoping.
We say things like, “Maybe this is just my lot in life,” not realizing that grief has quietly become our new baseline.

But what if I told you that dreaming again is yet another part of healing?

Not a distraction from grief.
Not a denial of reality.
But a bold, Spirit-filled act of reclaiming your trust in the God who still writes beautiful stories even after disappointment.

There’s a Scripture I hold close in seasons of barrenness:

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”
— Isaiah 43:19 (NIV)

This isn’t just a verse for easy seasons.
This is a promise for the wilderness.
For the wasteland.
For the woman standing in the rubble of “what was” trying to imagine “what could be.”

I’ve been her.
I’ve walked through seasons where dreaming felt foolish.
I’ve wept over dreams that collapsed and questioned if restoration was even possible.
But I’ve also watched God breathe over dry bones.
I’ve seen Him restore what I was sure was lost forever.

That’s why I take the time to pass this onto you. Not from theory, but from testimony.

Have you stopped dreaming?

Maybe loss convinced you that dreaming is for the carefree and unburdened.

Maybe disappointment whispered that it’s safer not to hope.

Maybe the grief you're carrying made it feel like there’s no space left for imagination.

But hear me, sis: Dreaming is for you too. Right now. Right here. In this very season.

And your dreams don’t have to be grand to be God-breathed. Sometimes, a dream is simply the courage to expect joy again.

Sacred Step:

This week, be bold. Be honest. Write down one dream you’ve buried. Not for Instagram. Not for a five-year plan. Just for you and God. Maybe it feels too impractical. Maybe it still hurts. Maybe it makes you feel silly. But honor it by naming it. Speak it out. Pray over it. Give it breath again.

It’s not too late. And you’re not too broken.

And then pray this aloud:

God, I’ve let some dreams die quietly. I stopped hoping because it hurt too much. But today, I give You what’s left. I offer You the places where imagination turned into fear, and faith gave way to survival. Breathe life into my dry bones again. Restore wonder. Reignite belief. And teach me how to dream with You, not apart from You. I trust You to do something new, even here. Amen.