When God Crushes Your Dreams (And Why It's Actually Good News)

Lessons From Babel

You’re scrolling through Instagram at 2 AM, watching someone half your age launch their third startup while you’re still figuring out what you want to be when you “grow up.”

That familiar ache hits your chest.

The one that whispers, “You’re falling behind. You’re not enough. You need to build something bigger, better, more impressive.”

Sound familiar? Welcome to the human condition, circa every generation since the dawn of time.

That deep, gnawing hunger for significance.

The secret belief that you're meant for something bigger than your current circumstances.

The fantasy that someday, somehow, you'll create something that makes the world stop and say, "Wow. That person really mattered."

It's the most human thing in the world.

And it's exactly what got the people of Babel into trouble.

The Original Influencers

Picture this: a bunch of ambitious humans standing around in ancient Mesopotamia, gesturing wildly as they pitch their latest project.

"Then they said, 'Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves.'"

(Genesis 11:4)

Make a name for ourselves.

If that doesn't sound like every social media bio, LinkedIn headline, and personal branding strategy rolled into one, I don't know what does.

These weren't evil people.

They weren't plotting world domination or scheming to overthrow governments.

They were just regular humans with the same desires we all have: to build something meaningful, to be remembered, to matter.

If the people of Babel had smartphones, they’d definitely be posting construction updates on TikTok.

#TowerLife🗼

#ReachingForTheStars 🚀

#MakingHistory 🔥

Sound familiar?

Every time we craft the perfect Instagram post, angle for that promotion, or dream about our "big break," we're channeling the same energy that drove those ancient builders.

We want to reach the heavens. We want to make a name for ourselves.

The people of Babel wanted to build a tower that would reach the heavens, a monument to their own greatness and power.

However, Yahweh saw this as a threat,

So God shows up and basically hits the reset button on their entire project.

He scrambles their language, scatters them across the earth, and leaves their magnificent tower as an abandoned monument to human ambition.

At first glance, this seems harsh. I mean, they were just trying to achieve their dreams, right? But what if I told you that God’s intervention wasn’t punishment… but protection?

I propose that there’s more to this story than meets the eye.

The Deeper Disease

Here's where things get interesting.

The Tower of Babel isn't really about architecture. It's about autonomy.

Just like Adam and Eve decided they could determine good and evil for themselves, the builders of Babel decided they could determine their own destiny.

They wanted to write their own story, “thank you very much”. No divine input necessary.

Now, when I say that Yahweh saw this as a threat, you might think I mean a threat to His power or authority.

Like He was worried about His job security or something.

But that's not it at all.

God being personally threatened by human ambition would be like me being threatened by my toddler's attempt to arm-wrestle me.

Or a lumberjack being threatened by an ant.

It’s not just impossible; it’s actually hilarious.

No, God wasn't protecting His own ego.

He was protecting humanity from itself!

Think about it: God had already seen what happens when humans get too clever for their own good.

The whole Noah situation was still fresh in the cosmic memory.

Humanity had proven it could destroy itself quite efficiently when left to its own devices.

Plus, there were these pesky demonic forces constantly whispering poison into human ears.

You know, little suggestions like "You could be like God" and "You don't need anyone else's authority." Typical demon “plot to destroy the family of God” stuff.

The Tower of Babel represented humanity’s hunger for self-glory, a desire rooted in the same pride that caused Satan’s fall!

The builders thought they could run heaven and earth better than God, and this toxic mentality was spreading like wildfire through humanity.

The same lies that got the angels kicked out of heaven were now being peddled to humans as freedom and self-actualization.

The Illusion of Independence

We live in a culture that worships individual autonomy.

We've been marinated in postmodern philosophy (whether we know it or not) that says the highest good is personal freedom.

The ability to define our own truth. To be our own boss. To chart our own course.

It sounds so... empowering.

But here's the thing Bob Dylan figured out way before the rest of us:

"It may be the devil or it may be the Lord, but you're gonna have to serve somebody."

- Bob Dylan

We like to think we're independent.

We're not.

We're always serving someone or something. The question isn't whether we'll have a master, but which master we'll choose.

Will it be the God who created us, knows us, and loves us? Or will it be the cultural currents that promise freedom but deliver slavery to our own desires?

Here's what I've learned the hard way: rejecting God's authority doesn't make you free. It just makes you a slave to whatever else is loudest in your life.

Your emotions. Your ambitions. Your fears. Your need for approval.

The market. The algorithm. The opinions of people who don't even know your middle name.

That's not freedom.

That's just a different kind of cage.

The Parent in the Room

So why did God intervene at Babel?

Was He just being a cosmic killjoy? A divine dream-crusher?

I think it was something much more beautiful than that.

It was protective love.

Think about it like this: imagine your toddler wants to play with a loaded gun.

You say no. You CRUSH that dream.

Why? Because you hate fun? Because you're on a power trip?

No.

You say no… because you LOVE them and you can see the danger they can't.

That's what I’d argue happened at Babel.

The builders were so focused on their own goals, so intoxicated by their own vision, that they couldn't see where they were heading.

Right back into the days of Noah.

They were building a monument to themselves, instead of building a life with their Creator.

They were about to walk off a cliff while staring at their bricks.

So God intervened.

Not to punish them, not to shame them, but to redirect them. Not to crush their spirits, but to save their souls.

Sometimes love looks like a "no."

Sometimes love looks like confusion and scattering when you thought you were building unity.

Sometimes love looks like your dreams crumbling right in front of you.

Of Platforms and Pigeons

Speaking of dreams crumbling, let me tell you something that will make you laugh.

Or cry.

Or both.

We humans are absolutely obsessed with building monuments to ourselves.

Every statue you've ever seen was erected by someone who thought it would make their name live forever.

Some poor soul spent their whole life accumulating wealth, power, and influence, convinced they were securing their legacy.

They commissioned artists, hired architects, and probably spent more money on their memorial than most people see in a lifetime.

And for what?

Here's the brutal truth: most people walk past statues without even glancing at the nameplate.

We're all too busy scrolling through our phones or worrying about our own problems to care about some dead guy's attempt at immortality.

But here's the really beautiful part.

Picture this: some ancient king or wealthy merchant, absolutely convinced that his bronze likeness would inspire awe and reverence for generations.

He probably stood at the unveiling, chest puffed out with pride, thinking, "Finally. This is how I'll be remembered."

Fast forward a few centuries.

That same statue, that monument to human ambition and ego, is now primarily serving as a bathroom for pigeons.

This person who was so concerned with making a name for themselves, so desperate to be remembered and honored, has become... a toilet for birds.

The irony is almost too perfect.

The very thing they thought would elevate them has become the thing that literally gets dumped on by creatures that don't even know what legacy is.

That's what happens when we try to build our own kingdoms.

That's what happens when we try to secure our own immortality.

That's what happens when we make ourselves the center of the story.

We end up as pigeon toilets.

The God Who Crushes Dreams (And Why I'm Grateful)

I need to tell you something that might sound crazy.

I'm genuinely grateful for every dream God has crushed in my life.

I know that sounds odd, but hear me out.

Case study 1: The Childhood Crush

In kindergarten I was absolutely convinced I was going to marry this girl in my class. Now, granted, I currently can’t remember her name… but at 5 years old I was CONVINCED.

I had it all planned out. I'd probably already picked out names for our kids. (Yes, I was that guy.)

When it became painfully obvious that she was never going to like me back, I was devastated. My little heart was broken. I thought my life was over.

But here's the thing: if God had let me marry the first girl I ever had a crush on… I wouldn't have the incredible life I have today with my wife, Brooklynn!

We wouldn't have built this beautiful partnership. We wouldn't have our son Jack, who brings us more joy than I thought was humanly possible.

We wouldn’t have our second child (who we will meet in Heaven one day), or our daughter (who is at the time of this writing due to be born any day now!)

I was so sad that God wouldn’t answer my prayers about this random girl in kindergarten… but that "tragedy" was actually the first step toward the greatest blessing of my life, my family!

Case Study 2: The LA Dream

Then there was my teenage dream of moving to LA, going to film school, and becoming a famous actor/director.

I was absolutely convinced this was my calling. I could practically taste the Oscar acceptance speech I’d get for my weird little Wes Anderson style movie musical about broke hipster puppeteers trying to make it. (Don’t ask.)

God said no to that dream too.

And thank goodness He did.

Instead, I became a youth pastor.

At first I felt God dragged me into the ministry kicking and screaming… but honestly? I can't imagine a more fulfilling job.

I've had the privilege of walking alongside young people during some of the most important years of their lives. I have a whole extended family of former students who still feel like my own siblings.

If I had gotten my Hollywood dream, I would have missed out on something infinitely more meaningful.

Case Study 3: The Romanticized Missionary Life

A few years ago, I was absolutely convinced we were supposed to move from California to Ireland.

I had it all figured out. The romantic vision of raising our family in the countryside, traveling from town to town to help friends’ churches, starting a school of ministry… maybe writing books by a peat fire, being all deep and European.

God said no to that one too.

Instead, we set out to become missionaries in… Oklahoma of all places. Because we felt God told us to.

At the time it felt like a career death sentence (and… in some ways it has been, LOL). Compared to CA or Europe, the ministry doors out here have been hard to open.

And yet… through that move, I learned lessons about identity and contentment that I never would have learned otherwise.

Through many moments of heartbreak, discouragement, and anxiety… I discovered that my worth isn't found in what I do, or where I live, but in who I am to Jesus.

I learned to trust God with ministry and life, not my own ambition or drive.

My marriage grew stronger. My faith grew deeper. My courage to step out in faith in ministry grew bolder. My understanding of what really matters grew clearer.

Every single dream that God crushed was actually Him protecting me from a smaller story.

Quick side note: this article is actually a remaster of something I originally wrote back in 2023. And here’s the thing that’s both hilarious and heartbreaking… even in that short period between then and now, God has crushed even MORE of my dreams.

So many that at times it’s felt relentless, like I’ve been beaten down by the divine fist.

Ministry opportunities that evaporated. Financial hopes that crumbled. Loss of loved ones. Personal goals that disappeared into thin air. Relationships & partnerships I thought would last… just…. gone.

There were moments when I wondered if God was just messing with me at this point. Like, “Really? Another dream bites the dust? What’s next?”

But again and again, looking back, I recognize that I am a better man because of the pain and trials I’ve been through.

Each crushed dream has stripped away another layer of self-reliance, another piece of pride, another false foundation I was building my identity on.

It’s like God is a master sculptor, and apparently I’m a really stubborn piece of marble.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

The Potter and the Clay

Here's what I'm learning: we're not the authors of our own stories.

We're not even the editors.

We're the clay, and God is the potter.

And the clay doesn't get to tell the potter what to make.

That sounds limiting, doesn't it?

But what if I told you it's actually the most liberating truth in the world?

Because here's the thing about good potters: they don't destroy the clay.

They shape it into something beautiful. Something useful. Something that fulfills its purpose.

The clay might not understand what's happening while it's being shaped.

The pressure might be uncomfortable. The process might not make sense.

But the potter knows what he's making.

And he's making something good!

Now, I’ve learned over the years that my view of God’s sovereignty probably won’t make strict Calvinists or Arminians particularly happy.

I believe we have real free will and genuine autonomy - we make actual choices that matter.

But here’s the beautiful paradox: for those of us who are Christians, we can trust that God is the master chess player, always working in the background toward our greater good.

Despite our agency, despite the mistakes we make, despite the false dreams we chase or even the harmful things others do to us… God trumps all.

He will always steer us toward the path He knows is best for us, and for His master plan to rescue and redeem.

And honestly? That’s a relief.

To have the freedom to try and fail, knowing God loves us too much to let us be destroyed by our own foolish ambitions.

The Name That Lasts

The builders of Babel wanted to make a name for themselves.

But there's only one name that will last.

There's only one name that will still matter when the sun burns out and the stars fall down.

There's only one name that won't end up destroyed by the pigeons.

Jesus.

Christ Himself is the true and better Tower… the one not built from earth to heaven, but from heaven to earth.

The Word who came down to us.

Babel was humanity trying to ascend to God via pride.

Golgotha is God descending to humanity by love.

What if, instead of trying to build monuments to ourselves, we built our lives around that name?

What if, instead of trying to secure our own legacy, we invested in His kingdom?

What if, instead of reaching for the heavens through our own effort, we let Him lift us up?

The irony is that when we stop trying to make a name for ourselves, we end up with something better than fame.

We end up with purpose.

We end up with joy.

We end up with a story that's actually worth telling.

The Beautiful Interruption

Looking back, I can see that every time God "crushed" my dreams, He was actually saving me from myself.

He was protecting me from the smaller self-centered stories I was trying to write, and redirecting me toward something better than I could have imagined.

The Tower of Babel wasn't just about ancient people with architectural ambitions. It's about the human heart's tendency to try to build heaven on earth through our own effort.

It's about the beautiful interruption that comes when God says, "I have a better idea."

It's about the grace that looks like a "no" but feels like love when you finally understand it.

The Invitation

So here's my challenge to you (and to myself):

What if we stopped trying to build towers to heaven?

What if we stopped trying to make a name for ourselves?

What if we trusted that the God who crushed the dreams at Babel did it out of love, not spite?

What if we believed that His dreams for us are bigger than our dreams for ourselves?

What if we let Him be the potter and us be the clay?

It's scary, I know.

It requires giving up control.

It requires trusting Someone else with one of the most important things in the world: your life.

But here's what I've learned: God's will isn't a cage. It's a dance.

And He's the best dance partner you could ever ask for.

So let's stop building monuments to ourselves.

Let's start building lives that honor the only name that will last.

Let's stop trying to reach heaven through our own effort.

Let's let heaven reach down to us.

May we all have the wisdom and courage to submit to His loving authority and find our true purpose in life.

He scatters your bricks so you’ll stop worshiping the thing you’re building.

He burns your blueprint so you’ll finally look up.

And yeah, it feels like death.

But it’s really your resurrection.