Yesterday I asked What’s It Cost?
My basic conclusion was to count the cost (Luke 14:28) because following a dream is an all-in deal.
After reflecting on my own words (dangerous activity) I’m wondering if I asked the wrong question. Maybe we ought to ask:
What’s the cost of NOT following the dream?
A dream offers a choice. You have to decide, eventually, to follow or not-follow. It’s a mistake to perceive “not-follow” as a non-choice, because not-following is expensive.
Not-following has costs. Perhaps the most obvious is regret, a nagging lifelong sense of “what if?” rattling around in those spare moments when you’re not distracted by day-to-day tasks. Don’t dismiss it. “What if” haunts you forever.
The not-following costs are harder to nail down. People not touched, opportunities missed, gifts unused—it’s difficult to put those on a balance sheet.
A dream, a God-inspired desire, is its own entity. A dream invites. It shows up like Jesus and says, “Come. Follow me.” A dream opens a door and invites you to enter.
I don’t know where this bike-riding thing is leading. I’m consistently surprised by where I go, who I meet, and what I do.
Honestly, a big part of me wants to drop the whole notion. I don’t need the aggravation, the uncertainty, the risk. I’d rather drink another cup of coffee. I’ve tried to resist this dream’s invitation. It’s uncomfortable, and I don’t like uncomfortable.
For me it comes down to this (at the risk of a confusing double negative): I can’t be all-in for not-following.
Not-following means settling for safety and comfort. Not-following means “what if.” Not-following is expensive.
I’m following this dream—riding and writing—because I’m unwilling to pay the price to not-follow.
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