To forfeit: to lose or lose the right to especially by some error, offense, or crime
What I see in the Scriptures is that dreams were very often fulfilled for men and women who had hearts unwound before the Lord. The ones who pleaded with him, wrestled with him, built altars to him, prayed to him, and ultimately, the ones who said yes to him—these were the ones who saw dreams fulfilled. The fulfillment of these dreams was not always the way they wanted them fulfilled. The fulfillment came in roundabout ways. Often, it looked like the back of a needlepoint project—punched through with holes and knots and strings that were criss-crossed and unclear. But the coming of the dream—whether it was life from a hollow womb, a stake in the ground for a wandering people, a child back from the edges of death—the coming of the dream was the sign of God himself. It was the very presence of God himself.
This is what I want. More than my myriad dreams fulfilled, I want God himself. I want the presence of God to fill my waking days until I am with him, face-to-face. For I know that behind the desire for any dream is the deeper aching for significance, the aching for my life to mean something. I want my life to matter beyond the length of my own two hands. And for my life to matter, I need to be infused with the love, power, and presence of God.
God, however, will not be manipulated or used for his power. He is a gentleman and he is a lover, both.
To have a life that is meaningful, to have a life of dreams fulfilled, to have a life where God is what and who I want above all else, there is a cost. As is the cost of any great love, it is the loss of self-protection. It is the loss of self-love. It is the loss of self-life.
It is the forfeited life.
This blog is going to take a turn in that I want to consider, on a weekly basis, what it means to live a forfeited life before God–what it means to not count my life as my own, what it means to live a life that is laid down. That is what this blog will be exploring, through my life, and through the lives of others who have lived the forfeited life.
Come and join me on this journey, won’t you?