8:29

[I read a book on the bus to and from New Hampshire this weekend. If I didn't know better, I would have thought I'd written it myself. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the author and I live parallel lives. Either way, I'll be blogging about this book a bit in the near future. And you should read it. Seriously. It's called Angry Conversations with God by Susan Isaacs, and it is the most refreshingly honest book I've read in a long time. I feel like I could write pages and pages about what reading this book did for me. But this is going to be just a short blog entry because I'm tired; but I just have to write about this part that made me tear up and smile at the same time because it proved to me that the author and I are, indeed, soulmates.]

There's a part in the book where the author (Susan) is talking to her counselor (Rudy) and have the following conversation when Rudy asks Susan what she has to be thankful for:

Susan: My cat. My friends. And this is really lame, but there's 3:16.
Rudy: Do you mean John 3:16? "For God so loved the world"?
Susan: No. My birthday is 3/16. March 16. It's a dorky, superstitious thing. I keep catching the clock when it's 3:16pm. I've even woken up in the middle of the night, and it's 3:16am. It's bizarre.

I liked this part already. I've had the same experience multiple times, where I keep "catching the clock" at 8:29-- my birthday. And it always makes me happy. But the rest of their conversation is what brought the tears to my eyes--

Rudy: And what do you think God's saying?
Susan: "Hey man, just thinkin' about ya."

Maybe she's right; maybe it's a dorky, superstitious thing. But I think that God uses the little things to encourage us sometimes. So I'll take it.

When Hoping Hurts

I am learning that sometimes it hurts worse to hope than not to.

Maybe this is something that the rest of the world figured out a long time ago; but I'm stubborn, and I've long insisted that being an optimist is The Way Forward and that, really, it is a more enriching and rewarding approach to life.

I'm beginning to think that I've been wrong this whole time. Because the fact of the matter is that if you let yourself hope, you open yourself to a whole lot more risk of getting hurt than if you just expect the worst. If you expect to be let down, then you're either satisfied or pleasantly surprised. Yet if you choose to hope, you open yourself to the possibility of pain.

So just stop hoping, I keep telling myself. Stop expecting big things and you, too, can be satisfied or even pleasantly surprised.

It sounds wonderful. And yet I can't bring myself to do it. Maybe it's my fear of missing out. Because if hope deferred makes the heart sick (and boy, does it!), hope fulfilled must make the heart sing like nothing else.

And there's this-- I can't get away from the fact that we serve a God of hope who wants us to keep hoping, even when it's hard and even when it hurts. One of my favorite prayers in the Bible is from Romans 15:13-- "May the God of hope fill you with joy and peace as you trust in him, that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope." I read this verse last week when I was fighting to hope, and I was relieved to see that there's no expectation that this hope will come from my own strength. Because I don't have that kind of strength. But by the power of the Holy Spirit, I may abound in hope.

It hurts to hope. Because when you hope, you make yourself vulnerable. You open yourself to the possibility of pain and disappointment. And when hope is deferred and your heart is sick, it's so tempting to give up and not go down that road of hope again.

I still want to believe that it's worth it. That because we are called to hope, that it really is the more enriching and rewarding path to take-- even if it's the scarier, and sometimes the harder, one. Man, I wish I had answers; I wish I knew how to keep hoping without risking getting hurt. But the only thing I can figure out right now is to keep clinging to that verse from Romans. I don't even know what it looks like completely, but I want to fight for it because I want my life to be characterized by peace and joy. I want to fight for it because I don't want to give up hope.

But I am weak. Right now especially. And in the midst of the hurt, it's hard for me even to think about opening myself up to more pain. I keep trying to remind myself that it's not up to me, that I don't have to find the strength in myself, and that the Holy Spirit is the one who will enable me and empower me to hope again.

Lord, by the power of your Holy Spirit, help me to trust in you, the God of hope, so that I can continue to abound (to overflow!) in hope.

Even when it hurts.