Hope

April 30, 2012

I know God can't leave me in this place. To do so would be detrimental, not helpful. So I'll keep waiting until help arises. I know God has already won the battle, but it takes time for victory to manifest. I think about a war. How after a war, when a certain side has won there is still ruin, there is still debris, there are still wounds. There's all the evidence of warfare. Yet as the victory, instead of combat, settles over the land, rebuilding happens. Where the woods were burned and grass withered, new growth appears. Little sprouts of blades of grass, bright green, instead of dry brown, moist branches and pretty blooms on trees instead of sooty, charred stumps. The smell of fire and smoke and death no longer permeate the air. Instead, flowers, dew, and sunshine. And that's the other thing-the smoke starts clearing until finally, the sun shines brightly and when the wind blows, you don't inhale pollution. You breathe oxygen. Pure, fresh, new, regenerated air. And suddenly, the world seems alive again. You feel alive again. Like maybe the world really is full of possibility and you had only forgotten because for so long, war was all you knew. Even news of victory didn't cheer you, because you were still surrounded and indwelt by devastation. Yet, slowly but surely, the evidence of victory started to manifest. Finally, somehow, Hope stirs again. Maybe it was never really dead, only buried. That's the thing about Hope. You can try to cover it up all you want, you can try to kill it dead. But because of the nature of this Hope, it won't be defeated. It will always rise from the ashes. Even when you don't want it to because feeling It is more painful than feeling the devastation. It's more frightening because there's more at stake. "What if Hope really won't come through this time? What if this time was It's last run?" So, instead of watering the Hope, you suffocate it. Or you try anyway. But no matter how hard you try, it won't let you go. Because if it did, it wouldn't be itself. Hope is quite a dangerous thing. Very risky. Everything rides on it. But if what it claims to be is what it in fact really is... well that changes everything. The wounded soldier whose reality has been devastation and disappointment finally starts to let what was concealed somewhere deep inside start to grow. He didn't plan on allowing it to. He just quit trying to bury it. Isn't it funny how Hope doesn't even need us to help it grow? All it needs to flourish is for us to quit stifling it. And, Oh, the quiet elation of it growing within! At first, and for a while, it feels painful, almost too much to be born. But then, it bursts forth, so bright, and beautiful, no longer able to be silent, bringing with it unspeakable joy and steady peace.