You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Hope’ category.
Last Sunday was quickly drawing to a close and as it was one of the few remaining cool spring days we would see in the DFW metro area, I did what any coffee addicted adult does.
I went to Starbucks.
On the way, my car simply acted odd. When I pulled into the driveway I noticed an odd smell emanating from it. It wasn’t until after research online, reviewing the owner’s manual and some small panicking on my part did I realize it was most likely the cheaper gas I’d used.
It was just a car. But by the way I reacted, by the way my heart panicked, you’d think I’d forgotten to give a patient his medicine.
It was just a car, not life or death. So why the fear? Why the panicking?
Because I still stubbornly cling to the idea that I must perform. That this unfailing, unearned, unmerited, perfect love is something I must somehow be good enough for.
I never will be good enough. That is why it’s called grace.
Even if the odd smell is something worse than cheap gas, even if it’s something worse than just a car, even if I fail, that Love will still be there.
In the midst of the storm, and surrounded by a lot of unknowns, I cling to this.
I don’t have to earn it.
I will never have to earn it.
I cannot earn it.
I am loved perfectly.
There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to Him than birds. –Matthew 6:26
Brooke Fraser – Flags
If we are honest with ourselves, we all want our stories to reflect one thing, hope. We want our lives to show an unending belief in the fact that life is worth living. We want our history to be a testament of overcoming, of victory.
We want to live on the mountaintop. And we ignore the valley.
Too many of us have bought into that lie, into the stories of endless mountaintop moments, of perfect lives flying above the storms. Too many of us believe that if we were just good enough, we would finally find completion, we would know hope because we would know what we were hoping for.
That isn’t real life.
Last weekend I stumbled across a stack of old postcards lying scattered in a box in the back of an antique shop. As I thumbed through them looking for artwork that would catch my eye, something else made me pause and start over. I began to read the letters, the messages on the back of the cards. There were more than thirty, each dated from the early 1940s. And each one penned by Private Divis, opened with Darling or Dear Sweetheart and was sent to a Ms. Jennie nee Garnik of Chicago, Illinois.
They were love letters, letters of hope.
Sometime in 1944 they were married. They stayed married, to each other, up until Mrs. Jennie Divis’ death in 2007.
Sixty three years of marriage.
I would love to believe that once they were married, they hopped from one mountain peak to another, each more beautiful than the last. But real life tells me that in sixty-three years of marriage, they faced hardship, pain, and the loneliness of the valleys. I would like to tell myself that the young love I heard whispered between the words of each post card carried them through those years, kids, careers and life with a sense of ease, but I know differently.
And so do you.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow, Christianity pauses to remember a moment in time that rewrote our stories. And again, I am tempted to paint this memory, this remembrance with the quiet pastels that permeate this season. But in doing so, the bloody reality of what took place over 2000 years ago is lost. Tomorrow isn’t about bunnies, ducklings and little baby chicks. Tomorrow isn’t just the celebration of life, but of a life lived in sacrificial love. A life lived perfectly, because we were imperfect.
Tomorrow, we remember the death of a Saviour and mans first taste of salvation.
Tomorrow we will read the first of many love letters written to you and I more than a millenia ago.
Promises
And as I sat there and read those postcards, and as I read the story we celebrate tomorrow, I hear the same message. We were never promised lives full of mountain peaks and empty of valleys. We were promised however, that we would never walk this path alone.
We were never promised a life void of pain and heartache, but we were promised that if we followed this Saviour who lived perfectly and died in our stead, we would find our true life, real life, abundant life.
I am following Him, Christ. Because more than anything, that is the life I want. I want to know that one random Saturday in the year 2074, someone will be walking through an antique shop and will find my postcards, love letters, letters of hope to my future wife.
And I pray that they will reflect a hope greater that my own. Not because my story was one filled with the pinnacles of life, but because I have found the life, the One I was hoping for. I found abundant life.
Earlier this week I received an email from a friend that shook me.
We’ve known each other for years and simply fell out of touch. We only reconnected a few weeks ago and as I read her email, my heart broke.
Although I glimpsed only a shadow of what she had fought through, the pain and heartache she endured, I could see clearly that something had changed. There was something new, something that didn’t exist the last time she and I talked.
There was deep hope.
There was this rare, amazing beauty.
There was a strength in her words, tempered steel behind her eyes and in her voice, and a profound confidence in her heart and her God that was beautiful, matchless, and radiant.
And in that, I began to hear the echoes of an ageless truth.
God restores.
As I read and reread the email, I could see it. I could see restoration was there, healing was there. Through the pain and the hell she fought through, the plan was always restoration. Restoration of her heart, of her life and the life of her son.
I will always question why we have to face the battles we do, why horrible things happen to amazing people and why God sometimes seems so distant. But in each battle and in spite of the many questions, I am beginning to see the same truth. The heart of a Father, her Father broken far beyond anything I could ever understand. And through the breaking of His heart, love flows.
A perfect love from a perfect God loving an imperfect person perfectly.
And in that love, restoration. The plan was and is always restoration.
.
Hillsong United – Take Heart
Our God Reigns by Delirious just started and I’m stuck, unmoving beyond today’s devotional from John Eldredge:
Every woman is in some way searching for or running from her beauty and every man is looking for or avoiding his strength. Why? In some deep place within, we remember what we were made to be, we carry with us the memory of gods, image-bearers walking in the Garden. So why do we flee our essence? As hard as it may be for us to see our sin, it is far harder still for us to remember our glory. The pain of the memory of our former glory is so excruciating, we would rather stay in the pigsty than return to our true home. We are like Gomer, wife of the prophet Hosea, who preferred to live in an adulterous affair rather than be restored to her true love.
We are the ones to be Fought Over, Captured and Rescued, Pursued. It seems remarkable, incredible, too good to be true. There really is something desirable within me, something the King of the universe has moved heaven and earth to get….
If your heart skipped a beat, if your soul ached when you read Johns devotional, then you are like me. You know there is more. And whether you are running away from your strength or beauty or towards it, you know it is there.
Could it be that we carry in our hearts the essence of our Creator? Is it possible that as creation, something of beauty exists inside of us?
We are the ones to be fought over. You and I. Prized so much, valued so highly, worth enough to be fought for and over, precious enough to be pursued. You and I, our hearts are valued, valuable, worthy of love. And if they are worthy of love then they must be capable of loving in ways we’ve not yet understood.
So go forward, run after your strength, your beauty. Stumble towards the you that you can be, that you need to be. Learn about your heart, this amazing love, and never be the same.
I sat in traffic Tuesday for a sum total of 2 hours and 20 minutes. That’s a lot of time to think. Especially when you’re sitting at one particularly slow intersection for more than 10 minutes.
I could have gotten frustrated at the situation, at the driver next to me who didn’t understand that “right turn only” meant, turn right. I could have gotten upset at the fact that he then proceeded to cut me off, only to go under the speed limit. I had to fight hard against anger when I realized that Google maps wasn’t correct, and the road I wanted didn’t continue under the highway, but stopped short and started again on the other side.
I sat, and fumed.
Somewhere between 2 and 4 mph, I realized something. I realized that I seem to expect traffic to be light, other drivers to pay attention, lights to turn in my favor and an easiness to accompany me on each trip. When I get in my car my understanding of life disappears, and I expect everything to flow smoothly. I expect ease, when I don’t see it in my life.
Sitting, unmoving, surrounded by hundreds of other commuters all trying to get home, it hit me.
Sometimes in life I’m victorious on the wings of eagles. Sometimes I’m winning, on top of the world and unable to fall. Sometimes you hop on the highway and cruise home like traffic didn’t exist. Other times, you wonder why you got out of bed. Other times, you mess up at work, you offend a loved one. You, I…. fail.
As I sat there, waiting for my turn at the intersection, I understood. This is life.
It is imperfect. I am imperfect. We fall into the trap of thinking that we can control the traffic, and when we realize we cannot, we get frustrated. The crazy thing is, we try it all over again the next day. We think we can make things perfect, and we never will.
Life hasn’t been easy, and we were never promised it would be. Sometimes we will need to fight, to push through the chaos surrounding us, trust the One who is writing the story we’re in, and keep going. Yes, sometimes the road is wide open before us, the sun is shining and all is well in the world. Other times though the road is hard, painful and bathed in tears.
Yes, at times we may look like idiots. We may have to back-up the wrong way down a one-way, we may have to change lanes at the last minute, or jump a curb. We may not always get to chose the roads we’re on, the detours we’re forced to take or the chaos we may have to fight through. But we are promised we do not walk this path alone. And we are promised that we will find things worthy of fighting for. And we were promised, that eventually, we would make it home.
ive been thinking lately, about being thankful.
for the things i have, and in some ways, for the things i dont have.
so many of my friends, people my age, have already settled down. they have a wife, kid(s), dog. they’re already rockin’ the white picket fence american dream. and while part of me wants that, yearns for the evident completeness they’ve found, part of me hungers for something more.
john eldredge describes that unsettledness, that desire for something more as the call of God for us to follow Him. john says “According to the part of the story God has allowed us to see, the Haunting we sense is His calling us forth on a journey.”
i wont begin to pretend i know what this journey is or where it will lead. but i am realizing that it’s not something i’m waiting to start. it’s something i have already begun. and thats something you need to realize too.
this, right here, this moment in time, is part of journey.
st. augustine said that the world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.
you are already on your journey. as am i.
and im suddenly realizing that part of me was waiting for something to happen. for someone to come along and give me permission to live life, to chase after my dreams.
i was waiting for something that will never happen.
and if this is true, that right now, im living my story…. if its true that the first pages have been turned, and that the book is already dog-eared, then i need to do everything i can, right now, to live life fully. to explore, fight, become a better me.
i need to learn to love. to walk through the fires before me. to face fears, to dance. i need to learn not just to tread water, but sail.
i need to learn to be thankful for where i am and for where i am going.
yes, eventually, i want what my friends have. i want to look into the eyes of my beloved, my betrothed, my bride, my (eve) and see our stories intertwining as one. i want to see our futures, together. i want to see hope, abundant life, and love ive not known reflected back in those eyes.
i want to see two books, two stories, two, becoming one.
and even if on the horizon of our future lie gray skies full with the promise of storms, i will look forward to the rain, to the thunder, to the tempest. because one day, i wont be sailing alone.
hillsong united – aftermath
i hate being alone.
no, its not that, because i cherish time away from the world.
i am afraid of ending up alone. and i think, if we were all honest with ourselves, we all struggle with this fear.
and if we were to think about it, if we were to really think about it, i think we’d begin to understand that its not being alone that we fear. it is that we fear we’re not worthy of being pursued. that there is nothing desirable inside of us. we do not fear being alone, but what being alone tells us.
that we’re not worthy. that we dont belong, dont fit. that somehow we didnt pass the test. that the sum of our parts didnt add up to a high enough value.
we fear not being loveable more than we fear not being loved.
and that fear hits home.
we cover it, we do our best to hide it. some of us throw ourselves into a hobby, work, our careers, kids or current significant other. we look for answers to that doubt, that fear, in everything and anything we can control.
it’s almost like we were born with a deep-seated knowing that there was, is, something valuable inside of us. something precious. something deserving of love. its like we know, even if we refuse to admit it, that our hearts are valuable. that they are precious, unique and achingly beautiful. its like we understand that there is something of value, rare and matchless, inside of each of us.
and that knowing, because of our past experiences and past wounds leads us to fear ever letting it be seen. so we cover it. and we look for the fulfillment our heart longs for, in the people, jobs and things we surround ourselves with.
and we are never fulfilled.
we were never meant to fill the desire of our heart, to love in a way and be loved in a way we’ve never known, with a career, a relationship, or a hobby. our hearts were designed, created, for something great. to love unconditionally and be loved unconditionally. to be free. to create and love and make music, paint, throw pottery and dance.
our hearts were created for us to find life. true, abundant, beautiful life.
and when we hide our hearts, when past experiences, mistakes, pain, disappointment and fear cause us to lock our hearts away, we become shells of the lives we were meant to live. we become puppets. life becomes a routine, empty, stale unfulfillable.
we need to be reminded of how we were created.
we need to be reminded that we were not created to find our fullness in things, or people. but in a real relationship with the One who sculpted our hearts and knows their scars, better than we ever could.
we need to be reminded that we were destined to live, to find life fully. and to be shining examples of a heart fully alive.
so i challenge you, as i challenge myself, to slow down, to ask the hard questions, to feel the aches that our hearts hide, to fight through them. to learn from our mistakes….
and find ourselves running back home.
to let ourselves, our hearts feel. to be real, honest living people and not the shells we’ve come to believe equal life.
we are not promised that it will be easy. but we are promised that if we hang on and dont quit, that if we follow the One who has created our hearts, then we will find that life, that true, real, pure, brilliant life.
we will get there, we will know life.
and it will be beautiful.
Future of Forestry – Slow Your Breath Down
if you leave I’ll still be close to you
when all your fears rain down
I’ll take you back a thousand times again
I’ll take you as My own
I will sing you songs of innocence
till the light of morning comes
till the rays of golden honey cover you
in the sweetness of the dawn
but you’re always on the run
i turned 31 earlier this month. the day after we celebrated a new year and new decade.
amidst the celebrations of the new year, the goodbye’s to the old, the birthday wishes and cards, something never stopped whispering to me. never stopped making its presence known.
in years past, i’ve always tried to write something about the passing of one year and the birth of another. to somehow close out the past 365 days, and greet the first few days of the coming year. this year was different, and honestly i’m not sure why yet.
i stopped today at a gas station to use the restroom. (i know, bear with me). and as i washed my hands my eyes were drawn to the sign we’ve seen in restrooms everywhere, employees must wash hands. i am thankful for those signs, dont get me wrong. but as i stood there, something occurred to me. that sign, those words, are meaningless, if the employees of that establishment dont honor those words with their obedience.
wow.
our health, the safety of our food products, and quite possibly our very lives are dependent on a little sign stuck in the restroom of our favorite restaurants, grocery stores, coffee shops and gas stations. and it’s not the words, for they carry no power, no might, no strength to provide safety or health. it’s in the obedience to those words, that safety is had. that our meals are healthy. that life is good.
im realizing today that it’s not our words that have power, but its the power we give those words, over us and over others, that really matter.
throughout our lives we will have words of blessing spoken over us. and we will also have words designed to wound and tear, thrown at us from every side. and its not the words themselves that matter, but the value we ascribe to those words. when a complete stranger hurls curses, you brush it off. but if a close friend was to do so, the wound would be deep because we give more value to the words of a friend than those from a random passerby.
i wounded a friend friday night. not intentionally. but i did. i hate typing those words. not because i dont like admitting my mistakes, although i dont. but because i hate wounding those i love. i hate when my words, my actions, or lack thereof tell someone i care for deeply that i think less of them, or that i dont care about them. i hate it, because when i’ve wounded someone, it means i could have blessed them. i could have spoken words that brought life, affirmed, and blessed.
so maybe in a way this is me saying goodbye to 2010 and hello to 2011. maybe this is me welcoming 31. and maybe this is me saying i’m sorry in the best way i know how. because the person, the woman i wounded is an amazing creature.
in 2011, i want my words to mean something. i want to my life to lay bare the words that are imprinted on my heart. i want those i love to never question their value. this year, i want my life to point to something bigger than me, something larger than the 9-5, the 2 day weekends and countless cups of coffee.
that little sign in the restroom isnt just a little sign. it’s a marker. it’s an announcement to all who read it that this establishment values its patrons, their health and well being.
you and i? we may only be a passerby, or we may be the close friend. no matter the situation, we will have moments to leave our imprint on those we come in contact with. in 2011, i pray the imprints i leave behind whisper of more, point to freedom, and remind those around me that love waits for them.
Future of Forestry – Speak to Me Gently
you hear it too. you sense it. especially at this time of year. when you slow down, if you let yourself slow down. you can hear it. echoes of something ancient. something wonderful. something that we know is missing, even if we dont know what it is.
its the call to more. to something more than shopping, more than wrapping and more than the exchanging of gifts. if you allowed yourself the time to feel it, to truly hear it, you’d hear it while you wrapped. while you shopped. and especially when you exchanged gifts.
what we miss, what i miss, is the reason for all this effort; for the time spent looking for just the right gift and for the hours spent wrapping presents in something that will only be torn and discarded. in our rush to find that perfect gift, to wrap the present just so we forget that we are incomplete. we forget that tomorrow isn’t just the celebration of a quaint story, but that it’s the celebration of the birth of a King. of the One destined to bring peace. of the One who holds our destinies in His hands.
you were created with the knowing, the understanding deep inside of your being that you were incomplete, that there is more. you were created to hear that call. to instinctively know it. your heart was tuned to resonate when the call sounds.
tomorrow, when you hear that call, be reminded that a loving God sent His only Son to die for our incompleteness. for our failures. for our screw-ups, mistakes and depravity. tomorrow be reminded that One came, lived a sinless life because we had no hope of doing so, and died a horrible death so we wouldnt have to. tomorrow, remember that we are not alone. that God-with-us has come. tomorrow, when you hear that call. pause. give yourself time to respond.
tomorrow, we remember that He came to bring life. abundant life. tomorrow, we remember that there is hope. tomorrow, mercy is new. tomorrow, you are no longer alone. you are no longer incomplete. tomorrow, more begins. your story is not over. the more is here. you were and are called for more. your life is sacred. you were created with a purpose. and the destiny He holds for you is beautiful.
tomorrow is an invitation. an invitation into the life you are being called into. the life of more. tomorrow, when you hear the call, the invitation, respond.
and never look back.
Future of Forestry – The Earth Stood Still
there are times when looking back is healthy. when its a good thing to look over your shoulder and see how far you’ve come. to realize how much you have fought through, overcome. other times, looking backwards is a haunting affair. where the shadows you’ve been fleeing from seem closer than when you began to run.
im realizing that there are moments in scripture where God came, where God rescued. moments of impossible circumstances where if God had not moved, all would be lost.
but that isnt how every story ends.
we trade words like vendors at a bazaar. haggling, arguing, jabbing and throwing out our own barbs… but never, never listening. never hearing the ache in the heart of the people we are closest to. never seeing the pain in their eyes. or the brokenness in the sound of their voice.
we’re a broken people, living in a broken world, pretending that we were able to put the pieces of our lives back together on our own. pretending that our lives make sense. that we can somehow, through self discipline, force our defining life-experiences to fit into the mold of what a christian life should look like.
we pretend our scars aren’t old wounds. we joke and laugh when one of those words we trade so easily, hits home. we wince, and cover it with a smile when someones off-handed comments strikes a nerve, and breaks off a piece from our hearts.
we pretend the abuse, the abandonment, the loss, confusion and pain arent as big as they are. we pretend we can get along fine, that if we believe they dont really exist, then theyve somehow disappeared.
we, i put on a mask. and pretend its ok.
i pretend im completely ok being 30 and single. that i dont look with yearning to my friends who have wives. whove found the one they want to spend the rest of their lives with. who are buying a house, or having their first child. who are dreaming bigger dreams, and praying bigger prayers.
i pretend that what has happened to my family is somehow ok. that it’s not as big as it would seem if i just dont look at the issues. i joke and laugh when someone makes a comment that strikes home. i wince, and cover it with a smile.
i pretend like there arent moments when i wonder if this is it. if this loneliness will be the one constant in my life.
i pretend like i’m ok. i stay moving. never stopping long enough in one place to lose momentum, never allowing my masks to fall.
i stay moving, to stay disconnected from my heart. to stay distanced from the one thing that could betray me. the one thing that knows my weaknesses, my failures, my hurts and scars. the one thing that could shatter my painstakingly created facade.
if i pretend i’m ok, i’m ok…. right?
for every instance of the miraculous protection of daniel and the victory of david over the giant, there are stories of heartache. of people having to walk through the fire, to get to the other side. these are the quiet heroes. and these are the stories that matter. because they are the stories that speak to where we are. these stories are valuable, they carry weight. why? because we live in a real world. and yes, there are miracles and i’m thankful for them. but there wont always be, not in every circumstance. there will be times when the seas will be calmed and there will be times when the storm will rage and we will have to do everything we can to hang on.
adam went through those times. he had something he needed to learn. something valuable. something beautiful. something utterly irreplaceable. that could only be learned through the process. adam needed to walk through his fire to learn the value of (eve).
Christ needed thirty years on this planet to prepare for three that would rewrite history. david needed the battles with the bears and the lions, to be ready for the battle with the giant. joseph needed to be a slave, to be ready to wear a crown and be the savior to his nation. the disciples needed the storm, to see the power of the One they followed. moses needed the wilderness, to find the courage to save his people.
the bible isnt just a book of miracles. it’s a book of real people who lived real stories. people who could pull up their sleeves and show you their scars, both figurative and real. these were people who lived each day hoping for a miracle, while choosing to walk through the fire. they knew the value of process. they understood that to get from here to there, was a journey. they knew it would cost. they knew that they served a God who could intervene, and when needed, would do just that. but they also knew they served a God who’s ultimate goal wasnt their personal comfort, or even that they’d escape unscathed. they knew, deep inside of their being, that the story being told was bigger than they understood.
and they knew that through the fires, the storms, the battles and fear, that He was faithful. that He would guide them safely through to the other side. they knew, through it all, that there was hope. and they never gave up. and because of their determinedness, we have their stories.
there are things you and i will only ever learn going through the process. and if you havent figured it out yet, you will not escape unscathed. but the miracle of this life isnt escaping with as little hurt as possible. no, thats not why we’re here.
we’re here to follow the One who has already rescued us. we are here to be His light. His voice. His hands and feet. we’re here to stand up for right. and we’re here to show the mercy and grace we so desperately needed.
the miraculous that these stories contain arent that, in each instance, they were saved from trouble. it was that through it all, He never left them alone. that through the fire, the battle, the heartache, the pain, He was there. He promised He would never leave. and He kept his promise.
thats the miracle. the miracle we celebrate december 25. we are not alone. He walks with us. we have a mission. He is leading us. and we will get through. and when we do, we will have stories to tell. stories that will bring hope.
future of forestry – the earth stood still
FindingTheCourageToDream.com 