Rain or Shine: Everlasting God

I remember one night, not too long ago, when I went with a friend to a conference where a whole lot of God was being spoken and a whole lot of praise was being lifted up. Actually, I was almost dragged there but sometimes you need a friend like that - one who sees you in all your brokenness and even still, loves you into something nourishing. I remember riding there with her in mostly silence because I was in the middle of a pretty powerful personal storm.

I was numb. Shut down. Desperately hurting.
 
We hear about tunnels in our lives that seem dark and let me tell you, this one was a doozy. 

It is also in those darkest tunnels that slivers of light can most easily radiate.

I went in and sat down. 

I could not mistake the presence of God and God-filled people all around me - it was definite nourishment my soul needed. I stared within the room - at people thirsty for Glory and hungry for grace.  But me? I could not sing.  I could not stand and raise my hands to Him.  I was still.  I didn't want to mechanically sing, so in a manner very much unlike me and with people standing all around me, I sat, shut down. Arms crossed protectively.

Then a song started playing...a song about not always being strong. The lyrics reminded me something - that God's strength powerfully begins where mine sacrificially ends.  The lyrics echoed the promises of God - which, no matter what, I cling to and believe. No matter what. 

The words of Isaiah 40:31 ring true, "Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

And I realized that no matter what storm I was in...my belief in the truth about who God is, was stronger than my silence and stillness. 

God is good, all the time.

God.
Is.
Good.

And no matter how bad the times were, God was still good. God was still God.

As Max Lucado says, "If God can make a billion galaxies, can't He make good out of our bad and sense out of our faltering lives? Of course He can. He is God."

I rose to my feet.

Somewhere within the lyrics, my protective arms uncrossed and my wounded heart surrendered - and I sang.

When you see God moving and transforming the lives of others…

Nothing transforms, makes new, renews, and breathes grace giving life, like the power of God.  

Nothing. 

"Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces." Psalm 34:5 

"You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore." Psalm 16:11 

~Fallen Hope? Think again, beloved. ~

Sometimes it's all just a matter of perspective....

In my office, above the double doors, I have two metal words hung up: "Love" and "Hope".  Last week, out of nowhere, "Hope" fell and just landed on the carpet, staring at me as I sat nearby at my computer chair.

And on the tail-end of an incredibly difficult two weeks, I confess to you this: I sighed.

Loudly.

Why me? Why did "hope" have to fall down on the ground again? Isn't it always like that, though? We think that we are finally on a roll of life and in the swing of living, when all of a sudden the rug is swooshed out from under us and we're left wondering, "Um, I didn't sign up for this.  Hope, can you please get back up where you belong?"

I left it laying there - I'm not sure why.  I passed by it for several days, thinking about my recently fallen hope and I didn't notice the incredibly obvious truth that was literally right there in front of me.  On my carpet, by the newly painted blue walls.

Hope.

A friend pointed it out to me when I told her the story. She said that she didn't see that hope had fallen at all. 

She said that hope had made itself known to me. 

And, indeed, it had.  Because everyday that I saw that word on my floor (much, much more often than I would have seen it hanging above my door), I was reminded of the word. In the midst of every morning, every afternoon and every evening...there it was.  Making itself known.  Seen.  Tangible -- even as just a word.

Hope itself wouldn't let me forget that that hope exists.

Even if I don't see it.
Or understand it.
Or expect it.

It's easy to focus on the rain or the storm.  It's easy to focus on the trial and lose sight that someday, prayerfully...this too shall pass and once again, light will prevail. It always has and always will. So will justice - even if it's not on this side of Heaven.

Hope.

Once again, truth trumps feelings.

And in the pale blue office, with books, a mug of steaming coffee, piles of paperwork and a woman with brown hair tossed into a pony tail, I write about that very word.

Hope.


Beautiful, real hope.