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

Confidently Wrong: The Art of the AI Tall Tale

In this episode, A chat with Adamas the Chef on hidden recipes causing digital hallucinations. Pull up a chair and pour yourself a fresh cup of coffee—and please, for your own sake, taste it first. We need to have a quiet chat about why your computer sometimes decides to reinvent reality with the confidence of a five-star chef who has clearly lost his mind. In the world of technology, we call it a  hallucination . It sounds pretty dramatic, doesn’t it? As if the computer decided to ignore your instructions altogether in favor of a vivid, technicolor imagination that simply hasn’t met reality yet. But in truth, an AI hallucination isn’t a breakdown; it’s just a very confident, very polite mistake. Think of it like our friend Adamas , the Chef. Adamas is a master of the kitchen, but he is also a bit of a romantic who refuses to say “I don’t know.” When you ask him for a classic recipe he hasn’t made in years, he doesn’t stop to consult a cookbook—that’s far too pedestrian. Instead, ...

Opening Day Magic 2026 . . .

It’s back. Baseball—yes, baseball ! If you’re someone who finds themselves inexplicably drawn to this peculiar ritual, let’s be honest with each other: it’s a bit odd, right? I mean, 162 games. That’s a lot of hot dogs, a lot of standing around, and a lot of grown men in oddly tailored trousers spitting with remarkable precision. And yet, here we are, poised on the precipice of another season. Thursday, March 26, 2026, to be precise—Opening Day. It’s a curious thing, this Opening Day. You walk into a stadium, or turn on the TV, and suddenly, everyone is infected with a highly contagious strain of . . . Optimism . It’s a spectacular form of collective amnesia. All of last year’s fumbles, the endless losing streaks, the existential dread of watching your bullpen implode in the eighth inning—poof. Gone. It’s entirely replaced by a wide-eyed, childlike belief that this year, finally, the baseball gods will smile upon us. The Cycle of Hope and Despair As a Cubs fan, I know this cycle intim...

The Cowardice of Corporate Jargon

Picture this: an email lands in your inbox. A colleague—maybe even a friend—needs a favor, a second set of eyes, a moment of your time. You sigh, stare at the glow of your monitor, and type: “I’d love to help, but I just don’t have the bandwidth right now.” Hit send. Problem solved. Conscience clear. Except it shouldn’t be. Most of us have said or sent that line at least once, hoping it would land gently. On the surface, it’s perfect—efficient, polite, even self-aware. And that’s exactly the problem. It lets you decline without ever quite telling the truth. You didn’t just say no; you softened the discomfort of being human until it barely felt like a feeling at all. Instead of admitting, I’m overwhelmed , or I don’t have the energy , you reach for the sterile vocabulary of a server room. You turn a feeling into a metric. A boundary into a system limitation. Apologies, my data transfer rate is capped. Please submit a ticket to my emotional help desk. It’s a clever little trick—and an un...

Overcooking the Grid

In this episode, terrified of smart toasters, yet demanding infinite electricity for potato personality tests. Pull up that chair again, and let’s hope your coffee is safe this time. In our last chat, we talked about our well-meaning but occasionally delusional AI friend, Chef Adamas, and his penchant for hallucinating blueberries into your Carbonara. We learned how to manage his quirks by keeping our “digital pantry” organized. But today, we need to look past the chef and take a hard look at the sheer size of the kitchen we are building for him. And folks, that kitchen has gotten completely out of hand. Down in Louisiana, tech companies are currently building an artificial intelligence data center the size of 70 football fields. It is a four-million-square-foot digital brain that requires so much electricity they are building three new natural gas power plants just to keep the servers from literally melting down into a puddle of expensive silicon. And what are we using this god-like, ...