“Imagine,” I admonish myself. But it is late at night, and my brain is foggy, and I want to know what to imagine.
I’ve been realizing that “imagine” is a two-edged word, that it can summon hope or terror on the merest hint, build sudden castles in the clouds or dungeons in the depths, fling forth whole lifetimes of bliss or woe in the blink of an eye. To imagine is almost certainly to guarantee both disappointment and relief.
To imagine is necessary. It lies at the foundation of our ability to hope, to innovate, to know one another. Imagination is essential to vision, and where there is no vision, the people perish.
But to control the imagination is also necessary. Imagining is a part of thinking: the things we imagine are also thoughts which must be taken captive to obedience to Christ. In many dreams and in many words there is vanity.
Because don’t we start to serve the visions, the imagined things, good or ill, never satisfied with the good gifts of reality because of the un-given imagined things, always afraid — in spite of security in the Savior — because of the things we imagine might happen?
The Preacher says it is better to fear God; to serve Him, not the imaginings. One of the reasons this is better? Because He is able to do immeasurably more than we could ask — or imagine.
Imagine, if you will, more than you can imagine. With man this is impossible, but with God, yes, all things are possible.