I get a little insecure about writing a blog. I feel like blogs are for accomplished individuals, those who are good at cooking, fashion and/or home decor or moms who want to encourage all of the other mothers out there. I am none of those things. It is always the thought that maybe someone out there will somehow be encouraged by my spilling my guts to the internet in a way I sometimes struggle to do in person. So here you go world, my guts. Hopefully you are that person waiting to be encouraged.
Growing up in church I have heard a lot of messages about hope. It doesn’t seem to matter what age I am, I always seem to have a sort of weird out of body experience whenever I listen to these messages. Sort of like when you dream but your dream is a movie and you are watching yourself. It is kind of like that. I hear the word hope over and over and all the random thoughts flow, hope. What is hope? Who is Hope? Who am I? This entire paragraph is just a long intro to what I really want to say that basically has nothing to do with what I am talking about. What I want to say is that whenever I hear about hope, I get very distracted and struggle to listen to what they are actually saying. But recently I listened to a message on hope that rocked me to my core and here we are.
Hope is a powerful thing. It is a thing of substance. It is not a naive, childish way of looking at the world. It is not based on wishful thinking or luck charms. It not reserved for the naturally positive or for those who have not yet had those life experiences that seem to rip your heart out. It is a powerful thing. It is growing thing, planting deep roots when it is allowed and getting choked out when it isn’t.
The last year and a half or so have been hell. I can honestly, without exaggeration say that the unimaginable has happened in my life and the lives of those I hold dear and to be honest, the punches keep coming. It has been tidal wave after tidal wave of shock and grief and in the eyes of many, I could have easily been justified to grow angry and label myself a victim and stay there.
I have always considered myself to be a strong person and a positive person, sure in myself, knowing who I am and looking at the future with anticipation. But in the aftermath of some of the potentially life altering tragedies that have occurred, something ugly grew up in my heart that I didn’t know existed. Doubt, anxiety, overwhelming fear and an intense anger began to cloud who I was. I don’t blame myself for those emotions. In my mind, the worst had happened.
I began to direct this anger at the very person who deserves it the least, the One who has been there for every step, every tear, who moved heaven and earth to win my heart, the broken mess that is is. I hurled my bitter cries at God, so full of doubt and uncertainty. I walked through a season of grieving unlike any I had ever experienced and in order to process, I sort of hit pause on some dreams and plans and just let myself be angry. I don’t hold this against myself because I know that God doesn’t either. Grief is a process and it shows up in all sorts of ways. I took a step back from my own life and indulged myself in what I affectionately called my hermit summer. Do what you gotta do. Let yourselves grieve people.
In the midst of me taking a break from life, I began to build an alter for my misery. I still loved God so much and I clung to Him but He was not the thing I worshipped the most. Hope cannot grow in a heart watered by fear and pessimism. It cannot grow under an alter made of shame and anger and depression. I continued to walk towards God because in every part of my life, He has been my sure constant but discouragement had taken a hold of my heart.
This hermit summer continued into the fall and winter as more of life circumstances came crashing in and my heart dealt with the trauma. In all of this, God never once left my side, never gave up, never turned His back, never spoke an angry word, never let me go hungry, never abandoned me. He truly kept all of His promises, just like He says He does. But I was not myself and I was not whole and I knew it.
As I continued to crawl and then walk and then run to God with all I could and act on His promises even though I didn’t believe them and chose to get up and love God and people everyday, I learned a lot. I learned that creating boundaries is the most loving thing you can do for your people and yourself. I learned that trust is not an emotion. I learned that God’s character does not change even when everything else does. I learned what a religious spirit looks like and how to ignore it. And I learned that God is far less conditional than we even know how to teach people in the healthiest of church bodies. I learned that I can be sad without being defeated and I can afraid without being sidelined from life.
I kept going and kept believing and God kept healing and loving and being there and although it sounds cheesy, hope began to shine through my darkness and discouragement like the sun in the early morning. Coming just when you think it won’t, melting off the disappointment and the shame and the lies. I said it earlier and I will say it again, hope is a powerful thing. Hope says that it doesn’t matter what happened last time, this is who God is. Hope promises that your story will not end in tragedy. Hope proclaims the truth over your life even when everything else speaks death. Hope stands next to you as you stare into your overwhelming circumstances and whispers, “we’ve got this”. Hope reminds you that the promises of God are going to happen because Jesus already did EVERYTHING necessary to complete them. Hope stands tall in you and says “this is me” because it knows that Jesus already did all that was needed to break off every attack, fear, hurt, pain, wound, disappointment, bitterness, negative word and everything that keeps you from freedom. Jesus did it all. Our hope is not based on some lofty, unattainable desire for the best without any proof or evidence. It is built on the person that is Jesus and the cross and His blood He shed and the victory that He already won over everything.
I sit here writing this not rid of all of my overwhelming circumstances. I’m not without problems. I sit here facing some big obstacles. I sit here very sad about some very real and recent tragedies that have pledged my family and my life. I sit here with debt and some health things and some decisions and some scars both physically on my body and figuratively on my heart and some circumstances that I would desperately love to change. I sit here knowing that I made mistakes today and I still have ugliness in my heart I gotta give to God. But I also sit here victorious. I sit here so secure in who I am and who God is. I sit here full of dreams. I sit here knowing that God has me. And it sit here full of hope and able to tell you from someone who has faced tragedy and heartache more than I wish on anyone in a lifetime that despite everything and anything that has happened or ever will, hope prevails.
