Do I dare to hope?
I was wondering when it would be a good time for me to begin blogging again. But now is probably a good time more than ever.
I don’t know what to tell you. A lot of us are waiting—waiting on our knees. Staying with our hands pressed together, speaking heartfelt, teary-eyed prayers to God and using our last essence.
Our faith is teetering while we’re watching people of other beliefs rolling around in their blessings from their “gods” or “universes.”
We’re praying, but our prayers are a bit different. God has been transforming us, using a multitude of fiery trials and tribulations, deserts, and valleys of death and distress to realign our focus, root out sins, and increase our clinginess to Him.
Now many of us are not even asking God for our spiritual inheritance anymore or blessings or some gigantic mountain-moving miracle. (Are we afraid God will not deliver, scared our prayers will be met with airy silences?) We simply want a sign, an acknowledgment from the throne of heaven to earth that God knows we exist, that God has clearly zeroed in on our suffering, our chronic anguish as we wake up in these dark tombs.
We’re dying. I feel myself moving slower and slower throughout this week and these past months. I was edging towards my death and didn’t realize it. I saw Christ dragging his Cross, the bottom of the “t,” creating a groove in the dirt as men and women yelled curses at our precious Lord.
I reread Isaiah 53 and leaped to John 13 to John 19. Profoundly, immersed in the trial of human history, Jesus Christ’s obedience, His decision to drink the Father’s cup, to submit to God’s plan would either be our eternal demise or a chance at heavenly reconciliation with the Creator.
Although I, “we,” know how this monumental event in history ends, I cannot help but see the parallel in my own life.
- My dreams died this year.
- My academic livelihood was decimated.
- My love life a with person turned to dust.
- My financial situation plateaued.
- I am fighting to love my body.
- My mind and heart (mental illness) at war against the keeper of my soul (God).
I want to hope and be joyful for tomorrow because my Savior is alive, and He is Living. But will I be alive?
Right now, I feel like the disciples, confused, speechless, slumming in depression, clouded with darkness and fear, can I with great courage and hope believe there, beyond my bed, when the sun hits the horizon, believe that there is a greater tomorrow for my loved ones and me?