I have a confession to make. . .
I don’t always feel hopeful. (Gasp!) I know, right? Such a shock!
Well, not really. If you’re an avid reader of my blog, or even a sometimes reader of it, you’ve probably picked up on the fact that I struggle.
There are moments when I feel like I’m hanging on to my hope by a thread; the thinnest, barest thread that could break if the wind were to blow just a tiny bit. And that hope doesn’t even look like hope. It looks like despair wrapped up in enough strength to take a breath.
I feel utterly hopeless.
I was reminded this week that a lot of people before me felt hopeless, too.
David, the psalmist, penned so many of his downtrodden moments, despairing about his enemies and how he felt like God had turned His face away. Paul, who wrote the better part of the New Testament, told of how he thought he was on death’s doorstep. But neither of these men left their hearts bared to despair.
David always turned the psalms around and reminded himself of the goodness of God and told of tangible ways God had been there for him in the past—this gave him something solid he could hold onto and hope in for the future as he was struggling in the “now” with something difficult and seemingly hopeless.
Paul, at this part of Second Corinthians, tells the believers in Corinth, how God met him where he was and showed him how to rely on Him. When we are at our weakest and most vulnerable, we are more able to depend solely on God, because we have nothing else.
That’s where I struggle. I’ve talked about this before, and it’s still true. I like to be in control. I like to know what’s happening and when.
But sometimes that isn’t how life works. Sometimes I just need to trust that God has a plan and He’s working things for me for His glory and my (eventual) good.
When I look back over my life, every single hardship has (eventually) grown my faith stronger because God has always brought me through it, better than I was before.
In the moment, it’s hard to find hope, because all I can see are the tall and strong towers that seemingly rise up against me, blocking me on all sides.
But if I remember the power and goodness of God, and trust that He—like always—will see me through, it will give me hope that those towers, too, will fade into defeated enemies someday.
I can’t promise sunshine and daisies. But I can promise that there will eventually be a rainbow because God promises it. And that’s something you can hold onto and hope in.
Like, comment, share, and subscribe!!! 💙😊
Author 