Chasing Wide Open

I had no idea what I was actually selling, but I loved pretending I was killing it. At 10 years old, I'd sit at my mom's desk, punching numbers on her adding machine (yes, adding machine!) like I was running an empire. In those moments, I wasn't just being a kid; I was crafting a world where anything felt possible. The product may have been vague, but my fictitious enterprise even had an impressive name: Jazmier Inc. I've always been known to dream big dreams. As a child, whenever life felt uncertain, I'd retreat into my imagination—not just to pass time, but to build a future where I was in control. There was a promise to myself underneath those visions—someday, I could shape my own destiny, not just dream about it. I wasn't just a mogul. Some of my best childhood memories were spending hours in the woods, making forts out of almost anything I could find—fallen branches, old scraps, even rocks and leaves. My imagination ran wild as I built, always believing something magical awaited to be discovered just beyond the next tree or hidden in the forest's shadows. Those moments weren't just play; they were the foundation of a mindset—one that believed in possibilities, in uncovering the unseen, and in creating something from nothing. My imagination didn't just let me dream big; it gave me the confidence to believe I could create a life filled with purpose, joy, and freedom. Little did I know, those childhood dreams of possibility, adventure, and something more were quietly preparing my heart for a much greater calling. That calling would be revealed years later through Scripture, weaving into my life repeatedly, always appearing when I needed it most. Almost 30 years ago, I came across a verse in 2 Corinthians that felt like a revelation, as if the heavens themselves opened up just for me. The words were so vivid, so alive, they seemed to leap off the page and settle deep in my soul. The Message version says it beautifully: "Dear, dear Corinthians, I can't tell you how much I long for you to enter this wide-open, spacious life. We didn't fence you in. The smallness you feel comes from within you. Your lives aren't small, but you're living them in a small way. I'm speaking as plainly as I can and with great affection. Open up your lives. Live openly and expansively." (2 Corinthians 6:11–13) I remember the moment it clicked: That's it. That's the life I want. A life that is unbound by fear or limitations. A life filled with freedom, joy, and purpose. I envisioned myself stepping boldly into this "wide-open, spacious life," unshackled from the limitations I had placed on myself or allowed others to place on me. It was as if the Creator was gently reminding me that I was made for more than just surviving and getting through the day. I was made to thrive. But then life happened. I became a licensed counselor, a mom, a business owner, and a pastor's wife. I was leading, guiding, and carrying more than I ever imagined. Responsibilities piled on. Burdens grew heavier. That WIDE-OPEN life, once so vivid, began to fade, shrinking under the weight of expectations and obligations. What once felt like a calling started to feel like a distant, childish dream—too fragile, too unrealistic to survive the weight of real life. Is this even possible? I would ask myself as I came across that verse from time to time. These powerful words that once lit a fire in me now seemed almost naive, a nice sentiment but not practical for the life I was living. There were people to care for, ministries to serve, and businesses that needed my attention. These realities tethered me to the ground. I told myself, This is just life. Be content. And yet, the idea of living in WIDE-OPEN spaces wouldn't let go of me. It lingered, whispering to me in moments of stillness, reminding me that the smallness I felt wasn't imposed by God or anyone else. It was coming from within me. The life I had settled for wasn't the life I was meant to live. Deep down, I knew there was more—more purpose, more freedom, more alignment with who I was truly created to be. But stepping into something more? That was terrifying. What if I failed? What if I made a mistake? What if I wasn't strong enough or brave enough to live that expansive life? I wrestled with those doubts, but the whisper never left me. It surfaced quietly, a persistent nudge that wouldn't let me settle. And I wonder… have you felt it, too?