Hope

Hope

In my quiet time this morning, I came across a couple of verses in 2 Corinthians 4 that I used last year in one of my Caring Bridge posts…

2 Corinthians 4:8-10

What is it that waters the barren ground of our souls for hope to spring forth when it seems that nothing good can be cultivated?

Back in the beginning of my husband’s cancer journey, I remember our pastor coming to see Leslie the day before we were to leave our hometown hospital for MD Anderson. Our kids, siblings, and extended family all surrounded Les as our pastor asked us to pray. One particular part of Howie’s prayer that has stood out to me after all these months is, “We are people of hope.” 

If you are a Christ follower, then you and I belong to a special group: we are people of hope. What does it mean to be a person of hope? I mean, let’s face it…the storms of life  bash cruel waves of tribulation on us at some point in our lives. Jesus Himself tells us in John 16:33 that we will have trouble in this life. He doesn’t say you could have trouble, He says you will have trouble. 

“In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

Trouble in our lives comes in all shapes and sizes, but right now, the biggest storm I am facing is the tempest of grief. That deluge ebbs and flows…some days I can keep my head above water, and other days those waves relentlessly crash down on me. So where is our rescue? Where is our hope when all is bleak? I am going to be very transparent here: I have been handed my share of sorrows, just like anyone else. But I can honestly say that the death of my husband and the lonely road of suffering that ensues is by far the most traumatic experience of my life. I have weathered the “dark night of the soul” more than once since his passing…just wanting to go and be with my Savior, and with the love of my life. I obviously am still on this side of heaven, yet not I, but through Christ in me. I share that because there are more than a few that have walked that same dark night and carry that unspoken weight. You are not alone.

We will suffer. Plain and simple. But we need to look at the second part of John 16:33–

“But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

Jesus instructs us to take heart…to have hope. We can take heart in knowing that Jesus Christ went through every temptation, sorrow, and suffering that we do, yet was without sin (Hebrews 4:15). The Father sent His Son to live on this earth, show us how to live and love, and then give Himself for us as propitiation for our sin (Romans 3:25; 1 John 2:2). The fact that Jesus went through everything that we go through and overcame sin, sorrow, and suffering gives us hope in the fact that He will help us do the same. Jesus, the Suffering Servant prophesied in Isaiah, left the perfection of heaven and lived while truly man and truly God so He could make a way for us to be in heaven as well. So if the Son of the Most High is going to have trouble on this earth, who on earth do we think we are if we assume that we will not suffer? Suffering makes us Christ-like, and isn’t that the end goal? Our hope comes from the Lord. We should strive to see our suffering through the lens of following in Christ’s footsteps, accepting the fact that Jesus paved the way here on this earth with His own helping of heartache, abandonment, false accusations, rejection, death, despair, grief, etc. But He also paved our way to heaven through His death and resurrection, and there is the place we can rest in the fact that our suffering is not in vain. And I hope you caught that word that we will ALL have to deal with one day…grief. Yes, Jesus grieved! John 11 tells us that three people whom Jesus loved greatly could see the stormclouds of suffering on the horizon. Lazarus was sick, and his sisters Martha and Mary sent word to Jesus of their brother’s decline. Verse 4 tells how Jesus remarked that the illness would not lead to death, but would be for the glory of God. Fast-forward to the time when Christ and His disciples got to the home of Mary and Martha and learned that His dear friend Lazarus had died. John 11:33 tells us, “When Jesus saw her (Mary) weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, He was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled.” Jesus knows our pain. Jesus gets it…the shortest but one of the most powerful verses in the Bible, John 11:35, says, “Jesus wept.” He had sorrow. Someone very close and dear to Him died, and He cried! Even knowing that He was about to call Lazarus from the grave alive, Jesus still grieved the loss. Plus the fact that the other two people in this story who were close to Jesus were in anguish, and the Bible tells us that Jesus was “deeply moved in His spirit and greatly troubled.” He gets it, friends! Jesus was not only grieving His loss of someone dear, He was grieving because His loved ones were grieving! He has been in the role of the One who lost someone, and He has been in the role of being there for His friends who lost someone. All of that to say, our Savior is a God Who has been in our shoes. Let’s look at Hebrews 4:14-16:

 Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but One Who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Right there…that is why we are people of hope! Because Jesus Christ was tempted in every way and went through the sorrows that we have, and because the sinless One died in our stead, was raised to life and seated at the right hand of God Almighty, He became our high priest–our mediator and defender, and He crushed sin and death for us! The grave is empty, and as people of hope, we can draw near to the throne knowing that our graves will be empty as well. We have the hope–the assurance–that death is not the end and this life is not all there is. We suffer, and we hurt, and we cry on the kitchen floor, and we walk the dark night, but our hope comes from the Lord. And do you want to hear something really cool? Our loved ones in Christ that we mourn…their last day on this earth was the best day of their lives because it was their first day in heaven, seeing Jesus as He is, with unveiled eyes. I know that for me, my husband’s last day on earth is the worst day of my life thus far. But for him–no more cancer. No more pain. No more suffering. He got to see Jesus face to face for the first time. That is pretty awesome in my book. 

As for us still here, we grieve, but we do not grieve as those who do not have hope. We grieve as people who can say through our tears,”Death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:54)

  I know it is crazy hard. I know that your brain is in a fog. I know there are days you can’t stop crying. I know there are days you can barely breathe. I know your body feels heavy but you feel paper thin. Always on the brink of tears, always a stream of sadness running through you even on days you find joy. I get it. I live it, too. I wonder why I am still here and he is not. But God is God and I am not. Hope is there, too, though…riding out the storm, sitting with us in silence, holding us when we cry. And if you need a visual and tangible representation of hope, do what my therapist suggested I do: get yourself a Hope Box. Fill it with reasons that you are still here. I have pictures of my grandkids and dogs, a very special letter that my son recently wrote to me, a pocket piece that I gave my husband which now takes on new meaning for me, profound and impactful Bible verses (aren’t all Bible verses profound and impactful?!?), a One Day Closer ornament, notes from some of you, and some other items that have symbolic and significant meaning to me of my hope. My reason I am still here. I look in it and pull those things out when I have those darkest of nights. I am here because I still have work to do for the kingdom, telling people of the hope of that empty grave.

One Day Closer,

Heather