Hope

Sometimes there are seasons that feel dark and heavy, when the journey toward wholeness feels like a battle. You look around and ask, "Is there ever going to be a day that is easier than this?" 

Parenting challenges seem endless, anxiety drains you mentally, marriage road bumps leave minor injuries, responsibilities pile up to overwhelming heights, past experiences pop up in unhealthy ways, traumatic events happen...and you spend all of your time feeling like you're desperately trying to learn all the right strokes necessary to swim out of the deep ocean waters, while at the same time just trying not to succumb to the waves. It's exhausting and terrifying.

It's ironic, or perhaps it only feels ironic and is simply just the nature of spiritual truth, that into a season such as this Jesus speaks to me of hope. I started contemplating hope throughout Advent and asking myself questions like, what is hope? What is false hope and what is real hope? Where is hope when rescue doesn't seem imminent or when rescue doesn't look like I think it should? What does hope look like lived out on a daily basis?

So I find myself in a season of thinking and asking and wondering about hope in the face of trials. Advent and then Lent lend themselves to these questions so well and I have felt God leading me on this learning journey. The history of God's people and the life of Jesus himself have followed an untraditional path of hope. There are answers and comfort in this truth but, still, I find myself asking God what that looks like specifically in my relationships, in my work, in my pain.

God keeps directing me to Romans 15:13, which says "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."

So this is all that I know so far....

God is the God of hope.  

He is the source and creator. 

Real hope can only be given to us from God. 

It's byproducts are joy and peace. 

Being filled with hope (and joy and peace) comes as we trust in him. 

It is actually possible to overflow with hope, but only by the power of the Holy Spirit.

I'm understanding that mostly my ideas about hope tend to be built on my trust in things of this world--answers or strategies that bring relief. It's easy to feel that kind of hope and it's also easy for it to be ripped away. But that's not the hope Romans 15:13 talks about. In fact, the beginning of that chapter talks about god giving us encouragement and endurance in the face of challenging situations through Jesus...who IS hope.

The fact is, when the swells of trials threaten to take us under, sometimes Jesus grabs a life preserver and threads us through that hole and we feel immediate relief.  But other times, Jesus holds us steady, his arms on our arms, as he shows us the shape of the strokes toward land. The relief in these seasons comes when we can breathe through the panic and remind ourselves whose arms are around us and whose instruction we can trust. We still have to do the work to trust and obey. We still have to tread water and learn the strokes. When the exhaustion hits, we still have to remind ourselves that Jesus is near. When we suddenly panic and forget something we've learned, we have to remember to turn toward Jesus and ask him to show us again.

I'm trying to retrain my brain to see hope as a person. I'm working to remind myself to look into the face of hope, instead of the waves. When I do, inevitably I find moments of joy and peace.

Yesterday, I felt like God gave me a moment of perspective in an area I've felt a particular burden of effort lately. He held my head up out of the waves so I would notice the rays of sun shining down. It was as if he was saying, "Look, all the work we're doing isn't in vain." Just for a minute I was able to stop swimming and take a deep breath and be encouraged, and it felt...good. Like a little breath of peace. 

Later we went on a wandering hike as a family and my kids all picked tiny handfuls of wildflowers for me. A little breath of joy. 

Maybe I can't entirely discount the circumstantial things that bring hope in difficult moments either, but the shift in perspective is that the hard things and the good things are experienced with Jesus, who is my hope. Whether he's pulling me out of the waves, helping me swim through the currents, or holding me still long enough to feel a ray of sun on my face, he is the hope that I cling to.

It's a work in progress, but today I'm looking at my little handful of flowers and remembering that Jesus is the giver of good gifts and encouraging words, the strength to endure the storm, and the hope in which I choose to trust.

What that looks like tomorrow? I don't know. But I know Jesus--the Hope--will be there with me and we can figure it out.

I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,

    and in his word I put my hope.

 I wait for the Lord

    more than watchmen wait for the morning,

    more than watchmen wait for the morning. Psalm 130: 5-6