Skip to main content

Dreamers

In the episode - Dreamers  . . .


"If you can Dream it, you can Do it!" He would say.


We met face-to-face one Sunday morning, standing at the entrance to the church after a service held for over 2,500 people.

As we shook hands, our eyes locked together, suddenly I was the only person in this long line of visitors; he greeted me by name with a broad smile as we left the church. It was only the third time we had met, and he remembered my name?


Out of multitudes of people, this man sees every day - how was that possible? Many called him a dreamer. I would come to know him as Dr. Schuller. The lead pastor of Garden Grove Community Church, or at that time, The Crystal Cathedral.


His sermon moved me emotionally much more than I expected. With a booming voice and a wave of his hand, he proclaimed,


"Today's accomplishments were yesterday's impossibilities."


His ministry had stood the test of time and ridicule. Seated in a magnificent all-glass structure with a blue sky above, surrounded by a garden of palm trees, I examined the expressions of the people around me. They, too, were captivated. Listening intently. His passion for his calling was inspirational.


Little did I know this pastor would have a profound effect on my thinking and my life. "Possibility Thinking," he called it. Philosophy with a pragmatic approach to positive results.


To me, this practice has always been known as positive thinking. Decades of young people had read Dr. Norman Vincent Peale's book, The Power of Positive Thinking.


While living in Los Angeles in 1986, the Los Angeles Times announced that Dr. Peale would be speaking at The Crystal Cathedral. I wanted to see it. My first thought was; The Crystal, what? Where is this "Cathedral?" To my surprise, Garden Grove, California, was less than 50 miles from my apartment in Santa Monica. Sunday morning traffic in Los Angeles was light, not the typical freeway parking lot. The drive would be an easy one.


So, without hesitation, Lori and I decided to make the trip to Garden Grove one month before Dr. Peale was to speak. "I'm sure there will be a crowd; let's go early to get the lay of the land. Maybe we can find a way to secure a seat for Dr. Peale's presentation."


We made the trip, and that Sunday morning changed my life. How, you ask? Seated on the balcony, I became intrigued with this idea of possibility thinking: Schuller's presentation, his body language, the use of his voice, and his facial expressions. This pastor focused on the positive possibilities for your life. Not the typical "You're a sinner! Repent!" What every person listening to that day experienced were positive affirmations like this one;


"I would rather attempt to do something great and fail than attempt to do nothing and succeed!"


So, it was that day, from the thrill of the experience, we decided, YES, we're coming back to this church - every week. Through this man, God was changing the world.


Or it was the creator changing me. It didn't matter. 


Suddenly, the lights were turned on; ideas began to leap through my mind, a powerful affirmation of my worth, my newfound awareness of "possibility thinking," my innate abilities, and my aspiration to be the best young educator.


No, it never came to me in those words, but the commitment was engaging and absolute.


It's hard to believe that was over 35 years ago. Much has changed, but what remains is that spark this dreamer lit in me years ago. A flame that grows daily into a new vision for my life.


We all dream. What's yours? The magic of possibility thinking is renewed every day through faith. Believe in yourself; today is a new day; you were put on this earth for a purpose. Discover that purpose; you, too, can change the world. How will you touch someone's life today?


It starts with a dream . . .


This is Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

The Gopher Problem and the High Powered Solution

Vacationing in Maine this week, just a short drive down the coast from Freeport, it is hard not to think about the outsized impact one frustrated outdoorsman had on the gear we all use today. Bad equipment can ruin a perfectly good day on the water or the trail, but it takes a special kind of vision to turn cold feet into a century-old empire. This is the story of the company we now know as L.L.Bean, but more importantly, it is a masterclass in integrity, learning from failure, and standing behind your work. In 1912, Leon Leonwood Bean faced a persistent problem: returning from expeditions in the Maine woods with cold, wet feet. Instead of complaining, he got creative. He had a local shoemaker stitch waterproof rubber soles onto the flexible leather uppers of a hunting boot. He called it the Maine Hunting Shoe and mailed a flyer promising perfect satisfaction. Then reality arrived. Ninety of his first 100 pairs failed when the rubber separated from the leather. Not an effective product...

On Becoming Real

Some things get better with wear: old shoes, old friendships, and old books. Especially old books. A new volume arrives with crisp corners and a spine that hasn’t yet learned to bend. An old one has been somewhere. It has traveled through time in the hands of people who may no longer be around to tell us what they found inside. The copy of The Velveteen Rabbit (first published in 1922) on my desk is one of those books. My friend Don Hanley gave it to me. This late-1950s Doubleday edition features William Nicholson’s original illustrations and cream paper boards softened by age. Worn corners, a split spine, and colored tabs mark passages worth revisiting. Don didn’t hand me a keepsake. He gave me homework. When we talked about the book recently, he pointed me straight to the nursery conversation between a young rabbit and an old Skin Horse. The rabbit had noticed the mechanical toys around him—the ones with internal gears, bright paint, and stick-out handles that seem terribly impressiv...

Engineering Beef Stew

On July 2nd—Day Two of what I call The Great Un-Working —I sat down with my morning notebook to map out this new chapter of my life. One goal made the list in bold ink: Learn to Cook. At seventy, I was adding a skill most people master before they’re old enough to drive. Before you judge me, understand our household ecosystem. Lori is a phenomenal cook. For decades, she’s made meals so effortless and delicious that restaurants seem unsatisfying . My contribution to the culinary arts during my bachelor years–tuna mixed into Kraft Mac & Cheese. Let’s just say I wasn’t threatening her spot on the Food Network. But retirement changed the equation. I’m officially off the clock while Lori is still working. And I had a lovely thought: Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she came home after a long day to find dinner waiting? She loved the idea. Then came the question that haunted me for weeks: “What do you want to make?” I had no idea. Apparently, the first step in learning to cook is deciding wh...

When the Universe Calls in Sick

Take Thoreau’s Advice . . .  Four weeks ago, we stood on the shore of Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts, trying to channel Henry David Thoreau. Before leaving, I bought a pocket-sized copy of his essay, Walking . It’s slim because nineteenth-century transcendentalists didn’t have notifications interrupting their urge to wander. Thoreau’s counsel is disarmingly simple: step away from modern life's machinery and let the landscape recalibrate your perspective. Back home in Vista, I took that philosophy straight into the backyard. Thursday morning, ink-black, pristine skies arrived. I aimed my refractor at Jupiter, whose light has bathed Earth since mastodons roamed the plains. It felt cosmic. Profound . I left the telescope mounted overnight, convinced the heavens were on retainer for an encore at daybreak. Naturally, the universe called in sick. By sunrise, a wall of coastal fog had rolled in off the Pacific, sealing the valleys beneath a damp, gray Tupperware lid. After about th...