Shattered Dreams: When Life Doesn’t Turn Out As Planned

Part 3 of 4 in the "Shattered Dreams" Series

“When we want to be something other than the thing God wants us to be, we must be wanting what, in fact, will not make us happy.”
— C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

Rarely does life unfold according to our plans. More often, it pushes us into unexpected places—places we never intended to go and can’t escape. The dreams we once held slip away as we grapple with the reality before us.

Joseph, a man familiar with shattered dreams, comes to mind. While we often think of Joseph from the Old Testament—sold into slavery, falsely accused, and imprisoned—I want to shift our focus to another Joseph: the husband of Mary and earthly father of Jesus. Though often overshadowed by other figures in the Christmas story, Joseph’s journey reveals the pain of broken dreams and the beauty of God’s greater purpose.

In Matthew 1:19, we read:

“Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly” (NIV).

This brief description—“a righteous man”—tells us much about Joseph. To us, righteousness might mean morality or religiosity, a good person striving to live out their faith. But for a Jew of Joseph’s time, it meant something deeper: a love for the Torah, God’s Law. Joseph wasn’t a Pharisee or a scholar; he was an ordinary, hardworking man raised to honor and study the Law. His righteousness positioned him for respect in his community, perhaps even a future as an elder—a common dream for men in his culture.

But then came the shattering moment: his young fiancée, Mary, revealed she was pregnant. Joseph knew the child wasn’t his, and her claim of a divine conception likely sounded unbelievable. In his mind, there was only one conclusion—unfaithfulness. According to the Torah he loved, unfaithfulness warranted death by stoning. As a righteous man, Joseph could have demanded justice. Yet he didn’t.

The NIV translation suggests it was because of his righteousness that Joseph sought to divorce Mary quietly, sparing her public disgrace. But I propose a different reading: although he was righteous, he chose mercy. His devotion to the Law pulled him toward justice, but a greater force—love—held him back. Joseph loved Mary. Despite believing she had betrayed him, he couldn’t bear to see her suffer.

We know little about their relationship. Jewish betrothal was far more binding than a modern engagement, but how well they knew each other remains unclear. What’s certain is that Joseph had chosen to love Mary. As he prepared a home for them, he dreamed of their life together—the family they’d build, the future they’d share. Now, those dreams lay in ruins.

Quietly divorcing Mary would have preserved her life and allowed Joseph to salvage his reputation as a righteous man. Marrying her, however, would destroy it. In a small town like Nazareth, word of her pregnancy would spread. People would assume Joseph condoned her “sin” or was complicit in it. His business, his standing, his dream of being a respected Torah-lover—all would crumble.

Then God intervened. An angel appeared to Joseph, confirming Mary’s story and urging him to take her as his wife. This divine call demanded the very choice that would obliterate Joseph’s dreams. Why didn’t God send the angel sooner—perhaps the same night Gabriel visited Mary? Perhaps God wanted Joseph to wrestle with the cost. To marry Mary meant sacrificing his reputation, his livelihood, and his place in the community. It was a decision that required him to choose between his dreams and God’s will.

God’s dream for Joseph wasn’t a life of outward righteousness or communal respect. It was far greater: to raise and teach the Messiah. Joseph became Jesus’ primary example of love and integrity. Imagine the whispers he endured—about Mary’s supposed adultery, about Jesus not being his son. Imagine the struggle to find work as a “disgraced” man. Yet through it all, Joseph modeled love and obedience, even when it cost him everything. Jesus grew up watching this, learning from a father who chose God’s way over his own.

Joseph’s dreams shattered when Mary announced her pregnancy. Accepting God’s plan didn’t make his life easier—it brought hardship and scorn—but it made it better. Joseph traded a dream of reputation for an influence he couldn’t fully grasp in his lifetime. His impact on Jesus, and thus the world, echoes into eternity, though he likely never saw its fullness this side of heaven.

Our dreams, even the noble ones, can blind us to God’s purpose. When we cling to them, we miss the life we were created for. Like Joseph, we must let our dreams shatter to embrace God’s greater vision. Only then do we discover true fulfillment—not fully in this life, but certainly when King Jesus returns and makes everything right.

Stay tuned for Part 4 in the "Shattered Dreams" series as we continue exploring how God’s plan transforms our understanding of life and fulfillment.

Lessons from the King: Two Ways

Back in January of 2011, Jenny and I were engaged, and I began preaching my first series through the Sermon on the Mount up in Storm Lake, Iowa. I was eager to prepare well, so I bought a few books—some commentaries, and a couple of older works. One was John Wesley’s book on the Sermon on the Mount—Jenny was attending a Free Methodist Church, so I figured I’d better get to know Wesley a bit. Another was by a guy named Emmet Fox. I didn’t know who he was—just saw it was an older book with good reviews on Amazon, so I downloaded it to my new Kindle.

It didn’t take long to realize something was off. As I read Fox’s take, his teaching felt…self-focused. It wasn’t lining up with what Jesus was saying in the Sermon on the Mount. It was more about me than the Kingdom. So, I Googled him. Turns out, Emmet Fox was a New Thought leader—a philosophy that says if you just think the right thoughts, you can manifest your desires. That’s infiltrated everything in our culture—from self-help books to Oprah to even corners of Christianity.

Here’s the thing: I spotted that as false because it didn’t match what I’d been taught about following Jesus, how I practiced following Him, or what biblical scholars have said for centuries. That moment taught me something crucial—discernment isn’t optional for us as followers of Jesus. It’s what keeps us on the right path. This is the truth Jesus teaches in Matthew 7:13-23. We need to be people of discernment.

Discernment Keeps Us on the Narrow Road

Through the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus teaches us what it means to live as Kingdom citizens—to see God’s will done on earth as in heaven. It’s not about us—our comfort, our dreams. It’s about God’s Kingdom and our loyalty to King Jesus. In Matthew 7:13-23, as He wraps up this sermon, He doesn’t give new rules. He gives a warning: without discernment, we’ll follow the wrong way.

Two Roads, One Choice (Matthew 7:13-14)

Jesus says, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” When Matthew wrote this, Jerusalem’s destruction in 70 AD was still future. People thought the Kingdom would come through violence, power, and wealth—the wide road. But Jesus points to the narrow way: poor in spirit, meek, merciful, peacemakers.

For them, it wasn’t “hell vs. heaven” like we might read it today. It was “destruction vs. life”—the popular way or Jesus’ way. He wept over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41-44) because they missed it. Today, the warning’s for us, the church. Are we chasing power, comfort, wealth, or Jesus’ character and dependence on God? Ask yourself: Am I following Jesus’ vision for the Kingdom, or my desires with Him as a mascot?

Watch Out for Wolves (Matthew 7:15-20)

Then Jesus warns, “Watch out for false prophets… By their fruit you will recognize them.” Not false teachers—prophets. They claim to speak for God, with visions and dreams. They’re dangerous because they sound right—talking about the Father, Jesus, the Spirit—but lead us off the narrow road. In Jesus’ day, they might’ve preached rebellion and riches. Today, it could be prosperity or self-fulfillment dressed up as faith.

Test them, Jesus says. Don’t just swallow their words. Here’s how:

1. Be vigilant with anyone claiming to be a prophet—don’t lower your guard.
2. Compare their teaching to Scripture and wise counsel (that’s how I spotted Emmet Fox).
3. Look at their lives—deception or integrity? A false prophet can’t live the narrow way any more than a thistle can grow grapes.

The Sobering Truth (Matthew 7:21-23)

Jesus gets real: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father.” People will say, “Didn’t we prophesy? Perform miracles?” And He’ll reply, “I never knew you.” It’s not about words or wonders—it’s about a life reflecting the Beatitudes, a heart transformed by the Spirit, a relationship with the King.

You can think you’re on the narrow road and miss it. So evaluate: Are you following Jesus’ way or what feels right to you? To stay on track, do this daily: pledge allegiance to King Jesus and surrender to the Holy Spirit. That’s the path.

Living It Out

Matthew 7:13-23 isn’t just about salvation—it’s about whether we’ll follow God’s way as His people. Jesus warns us because He loves us too much to let us wander. The Kingdom isn’t popular or comfortable—it’s Jesus’ character, teaching, and reign. Test the voices you hear—Scripture and fruit, not feelings, are your guide. Test your heart, too.

The big idea is this: Citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven are discerning about what influences their live so they can remain on the narrow road of King Jesus. Discernment isn’t optional—it’s survival. Test the voices you listen to—weigh them against Scripture, watch how they live. But more than that, test your own heart. Pledge your allegiance to King Jesus. Surrender to the Spirit’s leading. That’s how we stay on the narrow road. That’s how we become citizens who don’t just pray “Your Kingdom come,” but live it out—right here, right now.

To paraphrase Dietrich Bonhoeffer from the book The Martyred Christian: “God’s will isn’t ours to control—it’s His grace, fresh daily. It’s not your gut feeling or a spiritual rule. God reveals His will only to those who seek it anew.” We don’t set the Kingdom’s path—that’s the King’s job. Follow Jesus. Use His words in these chapters to weigh everything. That’s the narrow road of King Jesus.

A Prayer for the Journey

Take a moment. Thank God for Jesus and His Kingdom. Ask for wisdom to live as a good citizen. Surrender to the Spirit. If God’s nudging you to follow Jesus more closely, don’t wait—reach out to someone today. Let’s pray:

“God, thank You for Jesus. Give us wisdom to follow Your way. We surrender to Your Spirit. Keep us on the narrow road. Amen.”

Sunday Prayer: Guide Me on the Narrow Way

Heavenly Father,

I come before You seeking the narrow gate, the difficult road that leads to life. Guide me, Lord, away from the broad paths of destruction, and help me to find the way that few discover—Your way of truth and righteousness. Grant me wisdom and strength to walk this path with faith and perseverance.

Lord, I ask for discernment to guard against false prophets who disguise themselves as Your servants but seek to lead me astray. Open my eyes to recognize them by their fruit, just as a tree is known by what it bears. May I not be deceived by appearances, but test all things against Your holy Word.

Father, cultivate in me a heart like a good tree, rooted in Your love, producing fruit that honors You—fruit of kindness, truth, and righteousness. Prune away anything within me that bears thorns or thistles, that I might not be counted among those cut down and cast aside.

I pray for those lost on the wide road, that they too might turn and seek the narrow gate. Use me, Lord, as a bearer of Your light, reflecting Your goodness in all I do, so others may see and glorify You.

In Jesus’ name, I pray,
Amen.

The True Weight of Words: A Proper Understanding of Proverbs 18:21

 

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit.” — Proverbs 18:21 (CSB)

It’s a striking verse—one that’s rung through centuries of sermons and conversations, and more recently, been picked up by teachers who claim our words can shape reality itself. Speak health, they say, and you’ll be healed. Declare wealth, and prosperity will follow. Confess negativity, and calamity’s at your door.

It’s an appealing thought: the tongue as a tool of creation, a spiritual switch to flip blessings on. But is that really what Proverbs 18:21 means? I don’t think so—and here’s why.

Our Words Are Not Magic

Some teachers latch onto this proverb like it’s a promise of power. They frame it as a cause-and-effect system: say the right words, muster enough faith, and reality bends to your will. It’s a theology of control, where you play a little god, mimicking Genesis 1’s “And God said” to summon your desires into being.

On the surface, it’s tempting. Who wouldn’t want to talk their dreams into existence? But dig into the text and the broader biblical story, and this idea starts to unravel.

A Closer Look at Proverbs

Proverbs is part of Israel’s wisdom literature, a book of short, memorable sayings designed to give God’s people the godly knowledge they need to live well in His world. These aren’t universal promises but general truths—guidelines that say, “Live this way, and this is the likely outcome.”

In Proverbs 18:21, the “tongue” isn’t a magic wand—it’s a symbol of speech, a human gift with real influence. “Death and life” aren’t always literal (though they can be in extreme cases); more often, they point to the power of words to build up or tear down.

A kind word can breathe life into a broken heart or anxious soul; a cruel one can stab like a dagger. “Those who love it will eat its fruit” isn’t a reward for positive thinking—it’s a warning and a promise: your words carry consequences, and you’ll live with them.

Think about it. Gossip can shatter a friendship. Encouragement can spur someone onward. Lies unravel trust; truth mends it. That’s the “fruit”—the natural, relational, moral outcomes of what we say. Proverbs isn’t offering a cheat code for life; it’s calling us to responsibility.

Don’t Miss the Mark

To get Proverbs right, we have to remember they’re generally true, pointing us in the right direction—not ironclad guarantees. Some misunderstand Proverbs 18:21 by assuming words don’t just influence—they create. But that’s not what the text says. It’s not about speaking things into existence like God does—it’s about navigating life wisely.

Scripture reserves ultimate power over life and death for God alone (Deuteronomy 32:39, Psalm 90:3). James 3 echoes this, calling the tongue a “small fire” that can blaze out of control—potent and dangerous, but not a divine command center.

Historically, Proverbs was written for a community seeking to live as God’s holy people, not for individuals trying to manipulate their circumstances. Twisting it into a promise of godlike power reflects a modern, New Thought lens—not the ancient Israelite wisdom it’s rooted in.

Saying “I am healed” might boost your mood, but it won’t rewrite your DNA. Declaring “I am rich” won’t pad your wallet—though it might wear out your friends’ patience.

The Real Power of the Tongue

So what does Proverbs 18:21 mean? It’s a call to mindfulness. Your words matter—not because they rule the universe, but because they shape the hearts and minds of people, yourself included.

I still carry words spoken to me decades ago—some that lifted me up, others that cut deep. Make no mistake: how we speak is a moral act, a reflection of our hearts (Matthew 12:34).

Speak life—truth, kindness, hope—and you’ll see the fruit of stronger bonds and a clearer conscience. Speak death—bitterness, deceit, rage—and you’ll reap isolation and regret. It’s not magic; it’s cause and effect in the messy, beautiful reality of human life.

That’s the wisdom this proverb offers God’s people. It’s not about mastering a spiritual trick; it’s about stewarding the gift of speech. The tongue’s power isn’t in forcing reality to our will—it’s in aligning our words with God’s truth and love.

A Better Way Forward

If you’ve bought into the idea that words can conjure miracles, my take might feel like a letdown. No more speaking your way to success?

But here’s the freedom: you’re not chained to chasing the perfect phrase, wondering why the “fruit” doesn’t match your expectations. Instead, you can focus on what’s real—using your words to reflect grace, to heal rather than harm, to point to King Jesus, the One who truly holds power over life and death.

Proverbs 18:21 isn’t a blank check for our wishes. It’s a mirror for our hearts and a guide for our mouths. Let’s use it wisely.