Touching Hope

So lately, it's been a saga of hope.

After a rough year of learning trust (have you ever had a year focused on that?) and weathering disappointments and discouragements and yet still somehow holding onto the knowledge of God is Faithful...

There was hope.

My sister told me one night that there was one thing she regretted about her years of waiting, and that was that she hadn't cherished them.

Cherished the waiting? Cherished the times where my heart broke over disappointments and I wept for the pain of the silence of God? Cherished the times where I couldn't see for the darkness? How could I cherish that?

I could not accept that challenge of cherishing the waiting, for all I could do was look forward and see that dim light of hope that I could not attain, wishing to be immersed in that light.

What I failed to realize was that hope and trust go hand-in-hand. They are not enemies, but good friends that complement each other perfectly. It is not, "I cannot attain hope and will not attain it for I am learning trust this year," but rather, "I trust that my God is faithful, and I rejoice in the hope of that."

How was I supposed to learn that when I had both of my hands given to Sorrow and Suffering? It seemed impossible and yet with God, nothing is impossible.

Learning hope was not letting go of the hands of Sorrow and Suffering, but rather gripping them firmly and determinedly, eyes locked on the Shepherd of my soul, knowing that every moment of waiting was purposeful and meaningful and that each day was full of sanctification and growth.

Hope is not only a bright feeling you get when you see something worth running for. Hope is seeped in the running. Hope is the planting of seeds, the watering, the sowing, the weeding, the muddy knees and blistered hands and sweaty brow, as well as being the tree bending over with the weight of its fruit. It is both sides of the coin. Hope is something we see in the distance, yet seem to overlook when it is right beside us.

Hope is not looking past the silence of God to the time when He will speak again, but instead it is resting in that silence and flourishing under it, knowing full well that the Gardener is at work within us and that His work is a good work.

See? Trust and hope. You can't separate them. Trust without hope is like knowledge from a dull textbook. Hope without trust is never being satisfied or contented.

And that, that is how we cherish the waiting. In the little things. In the hysterical laughter as I try to learn the slight differences in the varied accent marks as I endeavor to learn Mandarin Chinese. In the bursting of joy when I get a job I applied for, knowing that the lack of hours only means that God has more planned for my life. In waking up early and marveling at how the ruddy orange color trickles through the cracks of the curtains. In tasting and seeing that the Lord is good.