Friends, I am afraid to hope. All too often, I am afraid to dream, to believe that good things could come, to step into things that enable more possibility. What is worse is that I am even afraid, at times, to lift my head and gaze into the eyes of the One who is the source of my hope.
These are days of mourning mixed with hope. On Good Friday, we remember the suffering and the sacrifice. Yet with heavy and hopeful hearts, we wait for Resurrection Sunday.
Hope can be painful. To acknowledge that my heart is beating, to acknowledge my desires, to even consider that they might one day come to pass. To take my beating heart and open it up to the splendid, imperfect people around me. To place myself in situations that facilitate the kind of movement I dream about. To hand my bloody, beating heart, full and pumping, to Jesus.
These are terrifying things. For, to gaze into the eyes of my loving & gentle Shepherd is also to gaze into the eyes of One whose love is so revolutionary, he was crucified for it. And he calls us to become -daily- more and more like him. To become more like the One whose hope cannot be conquered by death - we must first experience suffering and death in order to see that glorious resurrection.
You see, there are two reasons I am afraid to hope:
1. I am afraid that what I hope for will not come to pass. I am afraid to be disappointed. I am afraid that my heart will not recover from the process.
2. I know Jesus. I know the way he works- how he turns the most vile circumstances into beauty. I know he's all about resurrection. And I love that! But to follow someone who is all about resurrection is to acknowledge that death is a necessary part of the process. Resurrection can only happen after death has occurred. I can tell you that death doesn't frighten me, but that wouldn't be entirely true. You see, the end of my life here on earth doesn't frighten me. But the little deaths- the deaths of my will, the killings of the ugly parts of my soul that are necessary in order to become more loving. Well, these still hurt. Dying to myself in order to become like Christ is a good thing. If you know me, I guarantee that the part of me that you appreciate are the parts that look like Christ. The parts of me (and anyone, for that matter) that are annoying or pitiful or angering- those parts need to die. This is a good process, a necessary process, and I desire it... with most of my heart. But it is a painful process. Friends, I may not be afraid of a literal death, but I am afraid of suffering.
"We know from our own experience of pain, that it can free us for creative transformation, or it can embitter us to the point of rebellion by its lack of meaning. It can be destructive or creative. Whether suffering becomes a source of creativity depends in part on how the individual treats it and reacts to it. One of the outstanding marks of a mature person is seeking value in the face of suffering. Never to seek the suffering, but its meaning when suffering seeks us! For suffering is a meaning. The instance of this that will forever be our hope is Christ's despairing cry and prayer on the cross, 'My God, why have you forsaken me?' and that utterly tender surrender, 'Into your hands I commit my spirit.' This is the one who on the very night that he was betrayed gave himself for us. Betrayal can break a person, but Jesus accepted being broken and told us plainly: 'This body which is broken is given for you.'"
-Miriam Elder, OCD (11)
There are at least four situations in my life at present that could become something amazing, that seem to be on the verge of some explosion of extravagant love- on the verge of more than I ever could have hoped for. A small group of fellow sojourners, friendships, healing, calling. And if I let myself, I become aware that every single moment of my life is pregnant with the possibility of what God can do. And remember friends, God can do anything!
Even if suffering is a part of the process (as we can assume, as experience enlightens us, and as we are assured that it will be).
"Hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person- though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. But God proves His love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us."
-Romans 5:5-8
2 comments:
I think of hope as a prerequisite for faith, but not a substitute. We are all afraid to "get our hopes up" because of the uncertainty. However, faith steps beyond hope; it is the evidence of things unseen. With faith, you do not have to fear being let down. In fact, to do so is the opposite of faith. Fear means doubt, and doubt is just unbelief, or 'anti-faith.'
"Be wise concerning that which is good, and stupid concerning that which is evil." One way to read this is "pile up a mountain of faith and put things that bear doubt out of your mind." Master doubt and you'll fear nothing.
Lindsey! This is so good. The struggle with hoping is certainly one that I can relate to. I really like when you said:
"Hope can be painful. To acknowledge that my heart is beating, to acknowledge my desires, to even consider that they might one day come to pass. To take my beating heart and open it up to the splendid, imperfect people around me... To hand my ... heart...to Jesus."
The first step in hope is acknowledging that there are things that I hope for. That, for me, is the largest challenge. And to really hope for that which is in the deepest places of my heart, in the core of my being. Those things that seem so far away from coming to pass... But we are people of the resurrection. Like you said, after we die we then share in life as well.
Thanks for sharing!
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