Daring to Hope: Of Stars that Glisten in Broken Nights

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“But Thou art making me, I thank Thee, sire,
What Though hast done and doest Thou knows’t well.
And I will help Thee; gently in Thy Fire,
I will lie burning; on Thy potter’s wheel.
I will whirl patient, though my brain should reel.
Thy grace shall be enough the grief to quell,
And growing strength perfect through weakness dire.”

E. George Macdonald, Diary of an Old Soul

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We live in a world of broken nights. We live in a land of shattered hearts. Our lives are endless poems without rhymes; tapestries unraveling in a tangled storm.

And as we run against the deepening, grey skies, breathlessly trying to reel in the chaotic melody…we start to break. Because the waves are too big, and the sky is too far, and the field is too vast. And as we break, we ask questions. We doubt.

We lose hope.

You see…I think we forget that we weren’t created to mend the world. In fact, we cannot even mend ourselves. This chaotic storm of life is not ours to control. It is merely ours to embrace.

And we embrace it with the grace of Heaven’s heart and mercies of eternity’s morn’. So, we move forward, one step at a time. Knowing we can never achieve perfection or embody an exact reflection of His love, we learn, instead, to abide, to learn in humility, to praise…to hope.

And it is in this re-learning process, this imperfect pursuit of His heart, that we hear His gentle, patient whisper of love to our souls…

“Dare to hope again yet?”

It’s Not About Me – All the Praise Goes to Jesus

“It is good for us to look at self and know how loathsome it is, but with one look at self we must take ten looks at Christ.”

– E.G. Langston

The grip of pride has laid heavy on my heart in recent weeks. It is a burden I seem to bear with great familiarity. Before I am aware of its sly entrance in the deepest crevices of my thoughts, it boldly grows into a prison I find myself trapped in. With time it grows heavier, like a bag of bricks I carry around, dragging with me everywhere I go.

I cannot rest, for the bricks lie uncomfortably. I cannot run from them for they pull me back, clinging to the ground with the gravity of shame. And with all my efforts, I have yet to find a way to be rid of this dreadful burden.

But wait. Mind my words carefully. I said with all my efforts.

For, you see, my efforts are made quite in vain. I am without hope if I am on my own. But praise be to Jesus! Because it’s not about me.

I deeply relate to Paul’s heart-thoughts in Romans 7:18-19, “For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.”

But then, like the dawning of sun after a sleepless night, bursting with the joys of a new day and the gracious light of new morning mercies, he writes on.

Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!  So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin.”

– Romans 7:24-25

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.

For we are no longer slaves to this deep burden of sin. We need not carry this bag, filling with an unwanted weight. Our Lord and Savior is standing with open arms, inviting us towards His heart – gentle and lowly. His song is patient and kind, bidding us to breathe in His mercies and grace.

Dare to hope again, yet?

Glimmers of Hope in Raging Seas

My family recently went to the beach and on one of our days away, my grandma and I ventured towards the ocean and watched the waves from the warming sand. While we admired the constant ebbing and flowing of the crashing waters, we discussed our heart’s “Gethsemanes” – the places deep within our souls that feel the darkest, the heaviest. The places where beauty and pain somehow coincide to create some unforeseen reflection of Glory.

I mentioned perfectionism and pride, expressing my struggle with humbly seeking His praise and forfeiting my own. After we talked about these burdens, we prayed. And as my dear grandma talked to her Heavenly Father, she said…

Abba, I wonder, if the waves are like Your grace. Reaching towards us…asking for the weight we carry, gathering it in Your arms, and pulling it back. And as the waves resurface it is like Your blessings of peace washing over the fear and shame that remains.

I feel I could rightly end this post right there. What beautiful imagery. There are glimpses of Heaven in so many earthly places…glimmers of hope in raging seas. Because, you see, the world is broken…but its Creator is not.

This prayer reminded me of John 8 with the woman caught in adultery. After Jesus tells the sinless man to cast the first stone, and all the men – being sinful – walk away, he stands and speaks such powerful words to this hurting heart. He says, “woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you” – John 8:10-11.

The only One worthy to judge, in this moment, chose not to. What makes it even more breathtaking is when one considers the later verses where He tells the pharisees, “I have much to say about you and much to judge” (vs 26). Those who judged and dishonored Him, He responded to mercifully. And still does today.

I so easily lose track of what matters, storing up regrets and sorrows and burdens when He stands with open arms, beckoning, “come…just come.”

His love reaches through the waves, grasping our “Gethsemanes” and carrying them away, washing away fear with blessing and hope in the next wave to touch our fingertips.

Dare to hope again, yet?

Dare to Hope, for His is a Hope of Promise

“I will not glory because I am righteous, but I will glory because I am redeemed.”

– St. Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, as quoted in A History of the Christian Church

The Bible speaks of a hope that reflects a promise. For Christians, hope is not a fanciful desire, an untouchable aspiration that only soars in our dreams. Certainly not! Our hope is an eager expectation, a steadfast yearning…a patient waiting for something better than this current world.

For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

– Romans 8:24-25

So let us dare to hope. Because as Judy Squier said, “what the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Creator calls a butterfly. As humanity we see only the imperfect underside of God’s tapestry of our lives.”

This is our hope that one day He will return…and make all things new. One day we will no longer feel this daily weight of sin, but we will be dancing in the freedom of His presence and the awe of His glory.

And on that day, all the praise will go to Jesus.

All the praise to Him alone.

That, dear heart, is the promise of stars that glisten on broken nights.  

Dare to hope again, yet?