Do you remember what your future plans were when you graduated high school? Maybe you wanted to get into your top-choice university. Maybe you wanted to take a year to travel the world. Or maybe you desired to enter the workforce or start a family.
In my high school yearbook, we had a “future plans” section beside our names and photos. The intent was to record what we hoped life would be like after we turned the tassel. I knew exactly what the next several years would contain – school, teaching, and travel – but I wanted to graduate with goals that would never expire. All I wrote was this: hope higher, expect greater, dream bigger.
To hope higher is to never stop believing that the best is yet to come; to be assured that God isn’t done, even when it feels like I’ve reached the end (Isaiah 43:19; Jeremiah 29:11).
To expect greater is to have faith; to possess this confidence that God will make all things work together for good, even if they don’t feel good (Romans 8:28).
To dream bigger is to not limit my thinking to what is logical or easy; it’s to trust that all things are possible with God, and that if it aligns with His will, He will give us our desires (Luke 1:37; Psalm 37:4). It’s to know that nothing is too big or too difficult for God (Jeremiah 32:27).
A few months later, I carefully placed that book in a box and moved forward with what was next. I went to college, studied abroad, earned my degree, and began my teaching career.
It has now been 10 years since I wrote down those goals. But instead of attending a class reunion, I returned to that school to accept my dream job. As I settled into my space, I rediscovered my high school yearbook and found the page with my future plans. I posted those words – hope higher, expect greater, dream bigger – on my classroom bulletin board. It became a “full-circle moment,” to say the least.
Inspired, I reflected on what I’ve accomplished and experienced in the past decade. God’s hand was so evident in the details of every endeavor. I praised Him for the miracles that came in the form of scholarships, friendships, and internships. I exceeded all of my professional goals, yet something in me stopped believing for the other things I asked Him for. Would God give me a husband? Would I ever have my own family? Why was I still hoping, expecting, and dreaming for these incredibly unlikely requests, especially when God seemed silent and inactive?
I brought my questions to God, wondering why my circumstances looked like the exact opposite of my prayers. Heartbreak followed heartbreak as I only got older. My social media timelines became inundated with pictures of my friends with diamond rings and white dresses, and soon after, pregnancy announcements and family pictures. Hope deferred makes the heart sick (Proverbs 13:12). Belief becomes a choice that we effortlessly decline. Skepticism sinks in and discouragement diminishes our hope. We forget our value, the dreams we once had, and the optimism that once existed. And before we know it, the smiles and joys that once were now feel like a joke. Comparison truly is the thief of joy; it further forges the divide between our realities and our longings.
How are we supposed to hope higher when there’s nothing to hope for?
How are we to expect greater when we only see disappointment in our days?
How are we to dream bigger when we’ve only been let down?
What I didn’t realize, though, was why God brought me back to my high school yearbook or to the place I wrote down my future plans. He didn’t want me to feel discouraged by where I was in life, but encouraged by who I am, regardless of circumstances. Ten years ago, I wrote out my future plans before any significant hurts happened in my life. Back then, I had hope, even though I had no certainty that my ideals would ever come to pass. I believed, even when it didn’t make sense. I was kind, caring, and thoughtful. I learned to let the Holy Spirit’s guidance take priority as I attempted to carefully plan the details of my life. I’m still that girl today, only stronger.
When God returns us to a familiar place, it’s to do redemptive work and remind us of our identities. Sometimes we need a reminder that we are God’s beloved, chosen, and appointed children. The day I found my yearbook was the day I needed that message the most. Circumstances can impact us, but they will never define us. We may feel out of place, but to Him, we are right on time, in the exact place we are supposed to be.
Maybe, in the midst of our hardships and longings lies a love story. One of a God who stays, even when others abandon and hurt us. One where, when everything falls apart, He holds us together.
Friend, if you feel distant in your belief or far from God, know that when we return to Him, He reminds us of who we are and He reclaims the promising future He has for us. He renews our strength when we become weak. He wants us to rest in the truth that we are chosen and loved, that we have a greater hope in Him and a perfect peace that never runs out. God doesn’t leave anything undone. Your full-circle moment is coming!
Reflect
Do you feel God is trying to remind you of your story in some way? How has He been faithful in the past, even if it’s difficult to see His goodness now? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
This post is part 1 of 5 in my “Full-Circle Moments” series. In the upcoming additions, read about what God does in our full-circle moments to draw us back to Him.
Consider the Joy 
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