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.

Shattered Dreams: The Megaphone of Pain

Part 2 of 4 in the "Shattered Dreams" Series

“God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”
~ C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

Shattered dreams cut deep. The collapse of a marriage, the loss of a cherished job, the forced move from a beloved home, or the sting of rejection from someone you love—these aren’t just setbacks. They’re wounds that pierce the heart. When our dreams break apart, we feel the ache in our bones.

We despise pain, don’t we? Whether it’s physical or emotional, it’s an unwelcome guest—throbbing, relentless, impossible to ignore. We might escape it for a fleeting moment, but it always creeps back. Life, we tell ourselves, would be better without it. Yet pain isn’t just an intruder; it’s a signal.

Consider Ashlyn Blocker, now a young adult living with a rare condition called CIPA (congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis). As a child, she couldn’t feel pain—she once ran on a fractured ankle for days without noticing, and her parents found her with bloody lips from teething, unaware of the damage. Now in her twenties, Ashlyn still faces the challenges of a life without pain’s warnings. She might burn herself on a hot stove or miss a serious injury, relying on others to spot the danger.

Pain, as harsh as it is, alerts us when something’s wrong. Without it, we’d miss the cues that our bodies—or our lives—need attention.

Pain as a Signal

Emotional pain works the same way. It screams that things aren’t as they should be. We live in a broken world, where sin and death guarantee pain as a companion. It’s a reminder we’re not in Heaven yet.

And here’s the twist: God uses that pain to wake us up. C.S. Lewis called it His megaphone, a loud call to look beyond our own plans. We get so fixated on our dreams—our perfect job, our ideal family—that we miss the life God envisions for us. Pain, messy as it is, pulls our eyes upward.

But let’s be honest: understanding pain’s purpose doesn’t make it easier to bear. When agony hits, we wonder why a loving God stays silent. If we saw someone we loved hurting, we’d rush to fix it. God could erase our pain—yet often He doesn’t. That silence stings. Does He even get it? Does He know the loneliness, the sorrow, the weight of a shattered dream?

The God Who Understands

He does. Jesus proves it. The Son of God didn’t float above pain—He walked through it. Rejection by His own people, brutal beatings, the agony of the cross—Jesus felt it all. And God the Father? He endured the gut-wrenching tear in the Trinity’s fellowship as Jesus bore our sin. The cross isn’t just a story of redemption; it’s a loud declaration that God understands suffering.

Still, in our pain, God can feel distant. That’s when we need to cling to what Jesus shows us: God cares. Without that truth, the weight of broken dreams crushes us. With it, we can endure more than we ever imagined—just look at the countless Christians through history who faced persecution and martyrdom, sustained by certainty in God’s love.

Shattered dreams don’t mean God’s abandoned us. They’re a chance to see how fragile our plans are—and how much greater His are. Pain isn’t evidence of God’s indifference; it’s a sign this world isn’t our final home.

So, if your dreams lie in pieces today, listen through the hurt. God’s shouting something worth hearing.

Next time, we’ll explore how to grieve what’s lost while reaching for what’s ahead.

For now, what’s one way pain has redirected your focus? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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Stay tuned for Part 3 in the "Shattered Dreams" series as we continue exploring how God’s plan transforms our understanding of life and fulfillment.

Shattered Dreams: An Unexpected Blessing

 

Part 1 of 4 in the "Shattered Dreams" Series

We’ve all heard it before: we matter to God. And part of us wants to believe it. But life has a way of wearing down our confidence in that truth. If God really cares about us, then why didn’t He ___________? Fill in the blank: Heal your loved one. Save your marriage. Open doors that remained shut. Make life easier.

Either (a) we’re blowing it, or (b) God is holding out on us. Or some combination of both, which is where most people land.
— John Eldredge, Waking the Dead: The Glory of a Heart Fully Alive

Take a moment to reflect on the dreams you once had for your life. What did you envision for your family, career, friendships, home, and future? If we’re honest, most of us are not living the life we imagined.

On one hand, that’s not entirely a bad thing. Many of our youthful dreams were built on unrealistic expectations. Achieving them might have led to an outcome far different from what we expected—perhaps even worse. Think of the lives of celebrities who have everything we think would bring happiness, yet struggle with addiction, depression, and broken relationships. Or consider if you had married your first crush—would it have truly been a fairy tale?

We recognize that not all unfulfilled dreams are tragic. Yet, there are dreams we believe are essential to our happiness. The single person might believe that marriage is the key to joy, while a married person may long for the freedom of singleness. We might think a specific job, possession, or achievement will finally make us content. And when those things do not happen—or are taken away—we feel crushed. We cry out, “God, don’t You care about my happiness? I thought You loved me!” And often, we are met with silence. We pray, plead, and wait, but God seems unresponsive.

But does silence mean God doesn’t care? Scripture tells us otherwise. Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you (1 Peter 5:7, NLT). This leaves us with a dilemma: either the Bible is untrue, or God has a different plan for our lives than we expected.

I am convinced that God’s plan is far greater than our own. The challenge is that His definition of a “wonderful life” often looks nothing like ours. We dream of being served, but God calls us to serve. We dream of financial abundance, but God calls us to generosity. We dream of recognition, but God calls us to humility and quiet faithfulness. To lead us into His better plan, God often allows our dreams to break.

Why? Because as long as we cling to our own visions of happiness, we prioritize achieving them over pursuing holiness. That is the fundamental difference between our dreams and God’s: we long for comfort, but He desires our transformation. We seek happiness, but He seeks our holiness.

What Is Holiness?

Holiness is a word we use in church, but rarely in everyday conversation. I like to define it simply as being separated from the ordinary. Through salvation, God sets us apart from the world because His people are to represent Him in everything we do. Holiness is both the position we have in God’s Kingdom and the calling He has placed on our lives.

Because of this call to holiness, shattered dreams are not the end of life—they are the beginning of something better. They force us to shift our focus from temporary fulfillment to the eternal purpose found in the Kingdom. When our dreams crumble, we are invited into a deeper trust—a faith that rests not on our circumstances but on God Himself.

So, what if our broken dreams are actually God’s mercy? What if, in allowing them to fall apart, He is leading us to something infinitely better? The question is not whether God cares—it’s whether we are willing to trust that His dreams for us are better than our own.

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Stay tuned for Part 2 in the "Shattered Dreams" series as we continue exploring how God’s plan transforms our understanding of life and fulfillment.