Writers talk about “suspension of disbelief”. In fact, it is the essential ingredient in storytelling, the ability to cause a listener to enter the adventure—to partake of a proposed reality without skepticism. No holding back.
Dreams have this genius. We participate in their reality no matter how birarre.
Falling. Flying. Elevators that go sideways, nakedness that goes unnoticed to a room full of people.
Dreams flawlessly slip from one reality into another; my newborn baby walks and talks while I urgently try to find the class I haven’t been to all semester. I am under water. Slowly, so very slowly, I inhale. The rules of this place are so completely apprehended that the mind no longer questions the laws: the reversal—inhale to exhale—must be seamless in order to breathe underwater.
In dreams there is no choosing to believe or doubt. Disbelief does not exist.
Yes, I am breathing underwater, if only tenuously. And well, it does not feel miraculous. But it feels like I’ve uncovered a new possibility.
Dreams. Could this be an odd template for faith...
… a persistent and birarre model for the suspension of disbelief?
Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.
Renewal. The mind must be, not just trained, but re-newed in order to suspend disbelief.
Can renewal change the mind so it no longer depends on doubt to be the catalyst for courage?
Is it within our grasp to see things as God sees them? Wouldn’t that be perfection?
Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly father is perfect. What do you think that means?