I asked a four-year old today what he dreams about, and he said, “I dream of dragons and baskets and a poker and a arrow!”
Me? I dream of more sleep. And somewhere in there, I miss the magic. No dragons slaying bad guys, no flying away above it all – I get stuck sometimes in the mundane and the day-to-day and forget the glorious adventures that each day can bring. I mean, even today I got a phone call from my supervisor telling me that I worked today when I actually had the day off.
I’ll never forget Dr. Moye, professor of my 17th Century British Lit class, screaming at us, “WHERE’S THE MAGIC?!” as he tried so desperately to embody the voice of John Donne, metaphysical poet of all poets, who was (as best as I remember) so frustrated with a society that was persecuting its own people and creating a veritable massacre of mystery and hope. Where’s the magic, indeed?
Ask a four-year old what he dreams about, and he’ll tell you stories of conquerors and kings. Ask a forty-year old what he dreams about, and he’s likely to tell you about money and fame. While it is true that much knowledge brings pain and that ignorance is often bliss, I think this kid has something to teach us.
The NASB version of the Bible says in John 10:10, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” The Message puts it this way: “A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.”
More and better life than they ever dreamed of.
Where’s the magic? It’s in our hope.