Holding onto Hope

I can remember so clearly the weary, tired days when I felt so hopeless. I would ask God why He was so cruel...Why He didn’t just lift His hand and heal my body. Why He would withhold the one thing I wanted most.

I could not marry the notion of the Good Father I had spoken of so many times before, with the idea of Him I had created in the darkest, most vulnerable corners of my heart: The image of a cruel creator who would not give me what I so desperately wanted, in the way I wanted it, when I wanted it…You know, like a spoiled child.

But…Hope is real.

No matter the situation, when the mountain seems too high to climb, and the valley too deep, perhaps hope is all we have…and perhaps hope is all we need.

I’ll say it again…Hope is real.

It is as real as the woman with the issue of blood reaching out and touching the hem of a man called Jesus, with the hope that finally, finally she would be healed.

Hope is as real as Simon washing his nets after a fruitless night of fishing, believing and hoping that tomorrow would be better.

Hope is a mother at the bedside of her sick child, rocking that child in her arms, believing that with the coming of a new day, healing too will come.

Hope looks different to the believer. It’s not chance, or happenstance, but something almost tangible. It’s a surety of things unknown and unseen, and it is sometimes all we have. But what we forget, is that it is sometimes all we need, and no matter the portion, hope is always enough.

Romans 5:3-5 from The Passion Translation puts it so beautifully:

“3 But that’s not all! Even in times of trouble we have a joyful confidence, knowing that our pressures will develop in us patient endurance. 4 And patient endurance will refine our character, and proven character leads us back to hope. 5 And this hope is not a disappointing fantasy,[a] because we can now experience the endless love of God cascading into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who lives in us!"

Another translation says: “…and hope will not put us to shame.”

The world will have you feeling foolish and weary under a blanket of shame for holding onto hope in a seemingly hopeless situation. The world will tell you to just give up, forget about it, call it a day, but I don’t think that is what the voice of Heaven is saying.

I still have the hope of carrying our biological child. Bringing Nova home didn’t cancel out that hope, on the contrary, it brought it to life again. Bringing her home reminded me that God is able, that miracles still happen, that God is a master orchestrator.

God has the ability to add meaning to our suffering, and there is no wasted season when it comes to Him. He will take the little shattered pieces of what we think is the only dream we have, and He’ll tenderly sort them, place them where they need to be and create a much larger picture - His dream for you.

After all these years, I’ve come to realize that God perhaps withheld my healing, not because He is cruel, but because He is a Good Father.

God reserves the right not to answer a prayer that violates His purpose for me.

He will fiercely protect the plan He has for your life, no matter what.

He didn’t answer my prayer because He knew I needed Nova. I needed to be her mother. I needed her to look at me and call me “mamma”. I needed this, I needed her.

I can in all honesty say that I don’t think I would have had the honor of being called her mamma had God answered that first, desperate prayer I uttered almost 8 years ago.

He knew I needed her.

And I am reminded that He has made everything beautiful in its time.