Sometimes it seems easy to lose Hope.
There is so much to cause doubt and question.
There is pain and suffering, injustice and hatred.
We wonder how God could let that child die?
How could He allow that girl to be raped? How could He do nothing to protect the innocent, the hurting, the faithful?
We wrestle with these questions, and the doubters — the unbelievers — toss them at our feet to scatter on the ground as proof that we’ve been misled, misinformed, misguided. That we are clinging to empty promises and make-believe stories that have no place in a world of common sense and modern science.
But I look at them, at you, straight in the eye and let you see my tears. I let you see my shattered heart for the broken, the sick, the grief-stricken, the lost, and the dying. I want you to know that I hurt for them, too. That I wrestle with doubt and fear, too.
But my faith, it is not a product of what someone said I should do, or tricked me into believing, or because I lack the ability to think and feel and see the world for what it really is. It does not come from a narrow mind or a hardened heart, or a place of foolish misinformation. It does not come from the need to cling to something bigger than me in order to make me feel safe and protected, and especially not so I can feel superior or better than others.
My faith, it comes from being pulled out of the darkest, coldest depths and into the warming glow of love.
It comes from seeing the impossible turned into reality. From witnessing the most broken made whole. From living through unimaginable desolation only to awaken to fertile restoration.
My faith comes from both deeply personal experience and from standing witness to so much light, love, and fidelity that it overwhelms every inch of my body with gratitude.
And yet. Sometimes.
I struggle, too. Not because of my faithlessness, but because of my humanness.
It’s OK to struggle, dear friend. It’s OK to doubt and question.
You’re going to feel pain and suffering.
That’s when you lean on me. Lean on those around you who still cling to Hope.
And slowly, each of us will lift up the other. We will raise our tired hands in praise and worship for what we have seen and felt and know to be true. And we will strengthen our weakened knees as we rest on them once again. As we are welcomed and held and loved over and over again by Hope himself.
“So take a new grip with your tired hands and strengthen your weak knees. Mark out a straight path for your feet so that those who are weak and lame will not fall but become strong.” – Hebrews 12:12-13