Finding Hope When Fear Rages

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Fear is running rampant, unchecked and wild, through our world. The events unfolding before us is a large-scale picture of what has been going on in our homes and in our hearts since (almost) the beginning of time. Fear is a one-size-fits-all epidemic. It uses the same methods when it rears up in my heart, in my marriage, and in my friendships as when it runs through a crowd or a nation.

Fear isolates. It whispers in the darkness “You are alone. No one will help you.” It covers us with shame to keep us bound in addictions. It makes us think no other marriage has struggled like ours, no other person has had dark thoughts like these. It whispers lies to keep us from coming into the light.

Fear encourages us to see others in an all-or-nothing sense. It paints people with a wide brush so that it can make them objects and not real people. It divides people into groups and creates division and anger with statements like

All __________ are ____________. (You fill in the blank)

Statements like these create further division because no one likes to be painted with a wide brush. Fear makes us forget that people are individuals, created by God and therefore worthy of respect. We forget that these individuals have independent thoughts, beliefs, and feelings.

Fear takes away curiosity. Fear makes us so ready to defend ourselves at all cost that it takes away our ability to ask questions that will help us understand someone else’s point of view.

Fear begets fear. The more we surround ourselves with fearful thoughts, statements, and actions, the more fear will surround out hearts and paralyze us.

Fear chokes out hope. Fear screams and calls for immediate, desperate action. Fear makes us think we are alone, without help, and ultimately without hope. Fear paints the future in total darkness.

Fear is like a tornado. It is loud and destructive and throws debris on everyone around. As long as the tornado is there, no one can reach out to help, no one can be heard over the noise, and everyone gets hurt.

Hope is something else entirely. Hope starts out quiet, sometimes as a small spark. The presence of hope can remove the fear tornado so that healing can take place.

Hope builds community. When we surround ourselves with people who fight for hope, we hear these beautiful words, “You are not alone. I am with you.” They remind us of truth, which brings us into the light. And Hope Warriors lovingly help us let go of the lies we’ve believed for far too long.

A photo by Steven Wei. unsplash.com/photos/g-AklIvI1aI

Hope makes us curious. It makes us question the way things are. We ask “What if…” “Does it have to stay this way?” “What would it look like if…” or “What am I hoping for?”

As we see each other as individual humans, and ask the curious questions in order to understand different views, we get to know each other. And we will find that what we have in common, the search for love, security, acceptance, and worth, is important.

Hope begets courage. Hope stirs a quiet, fierce strength inside us. Hope helps us believe the future could be good. When those around us are pointing us toward truth, we grow brave. When we point others toward truth, we grow strong.

Hope reminds us that change is possible. It reminds us that the last chapter has not been written, and that we hold the pen to begin a new chapter.

When we fight for hope and live brave, so much is possible.

 

 

Sparks of Hope

Each of us fight battles as we live, day-by-day, in this broken world. If we keep our eyes on the battle we are sure to grow weary. When we recognize the sparks of hope around us, we find rest in the midst of our battle.

Sparks of hope are vital in the fight for hope because they awaken a quiet, fierce strength inside of us.

Sparks of hope remind us that we are warriors. Hope Warriors.

Hope warriors

Sparks of hope stir our courage and remind us that hope is worth fighting for. Feeling courage reminds us that we are not meant to live life numb.

Sparks of hope are a reminder in the midst of our battle that there is a bigger story. And that our part of the bigger story is worth telling.

Sparks of hope sharpen our focus and our determination that the free fall will not define us and the darkness will not win.

The sparks of hope that give me courage usually involve words, beauty, and music.

A beautiful sunset reminds me of God’s faithfulness and His promise to never leave me.

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A Bible verse on the drive through window of a coffee shop reminds my heart to hang on to hope.

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A line in a movie may speak to me in a way the screenwriter never could have known.

The lyrics and music of a song reminds me that I am not alone. (This song also makes me dance.)

Sparks of hope remind us who we are and what we are fighting for.

What sparks of hope have you seen lately? I’d love to hear about it.

Broken Places

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Picture by Angela Ewing

When we are sitting in the darkness with our unanswered prayers, our unfulfilled dreams, and the ache of empty places in our heart it is easy to lose hope. It is easy to believe that things will never change.  It is easy to believe that God doesn’t see, doesn’t hear, and doesn’t even care.

The truth is God does see. He does hear our prayers. He does care.

He gathers our tears in His bottle (Psalm 56:8), He is for us (Psalm 56:9), and He works in the broken places to answer the deepest cries of our heart.

I’m so excited to have Becky Spies as my guest today. Becky shares how God beautifully redeemed the broken and hurting places in her life in her post That Time I Got A Letter From God.

You can connect with Becky at her blog girl, redeemed at beckypricespies.com

On Extractions and the Rich Power of Words

I want to welcome Tammy Gonzalez to the blog today. I love the way her story reminds us of the power of words – the negative ones we speak to ourselves and the life-giving ones we receive from others. Tammy is a fellow Hope*Writer. Be sure to connect with IMG_1405her in the links below.

 

These days, I tend to wonder about a lot of things.

In part, this is due to my age and stage in life.

In part, it’s due to experiences of this past year.

And in part it comes, quite simply, from the pervasive hopelessness that seems to overtake me more often than not.

Caught in waves of questions, guilt, and self-condemnation, I wonder if I’ll ever get past this, if I’ll ever be able to embrace grace and move forward, and if I’ll ever really and truly be able to offer something of value to those around me. I’ve been frozen, unable to concentrate well. And all too often I’ve hidden myself in games of Spider Solitaire rather than allow my mind to explore the rough and ragged areas of life that I’m trying to avoid.

But at least—and this is huge—I can now read again.

For a while, it was all I could do to take in a short blogpost. Finally, though, words penned by authors as diverse as Henri Nouwen and Shauna Niequist have begun to make their way into my soul, resonating with some of my deeper places and helping me to see beyond the desolation that has seemed intent on consuming me these past several months.

And believe it or not, an infected tooth was the catalyst for this step forward.

I had been trying to run—from myself, my thoughts, my reality. Then came last Friday, when after weeks of discomfort a problematic molar finally had to be yanked out, and with it came a significant amount of infection that had been hidden between the roots.

The extraction was actually somewhat painful. An hour’s worth of attempts to anesthetize the area had met with only partial success. So by the time I arrived home, I was feeling just a bit sorry for myself, and eventually a few tears gave way to a waterfall and I was pouring out my lament to God, finally confessing my frustrations, my regrets, my heart that was breaking from words spoken to me and by me, a heart breaking from my own failures and the failures of others. Literally and figuratively, it was a watershed moment.

But that moment was just the beginning. The entire weekend was punctuated by times of tears as I dealt more directly and more humbly with my regrets of the past months and even the past years. God kept at me, relentlessly yet beautifully: a conversation with my dear friend Lisa about laying it all out before God and trusting Him to cleanse, heal and forgive; a night of live worship, soul-stirring music and prayer led Chris Tomlin, Matt Redmond, Max Lucado and others at The Forum. Many rich words, many bittersweet tears.

Through it all, there was a sense that God was moving, that the infection that had been pervading my soul was being slowly extracted, not as quickly as the infection that had been yanked out with the tooth, but it was being extracted nonetheless.

And it didn’t stop there. I encountered Henri Nouwen’s book The Way of the Heart and was blown away by what I found there:

The struggle is real because the danger is real. It is the danger of living the whole of our life as one long defense against the reality of our condition, one restless effort to convince ourselves of our virtuousness…

The encounter with Christ does not take place before, after, or beyond the struggle with our false self and its demons. No, it is precisely in the midst of this struggle that our Lord comes to us…

Only in the context of grace can we face our sin; only in the place of healing do we dare to show our wounds; only with a single-minded attention to Christ can we give up our clinging fears and face our own true nature.

This is a journey. In reality, it’s a journey I’ve been on for quite some time. I’ve taken a number of detours, and I’ve circled the same area more than once. But it feels so good to once again take in the richness of the written word, to delight in Niequist’s essays on life, friendship and food, to be touched to the core by Nouwen’s wise, insightful counsel that seems meant just for me.

Words. Words of life, words of hope, words spoken by friends, words penned by strangers and set tomusic or placed in print.

Words all used by God.

I’m taking them in again—in part due to an infected tooth—and I am so immensely grateful.

Tammy Gonzalez is a wife, mom to three kids (one of whom is already in heaven), and a teacher to the homebound in Southern California. One of her greatest delights is seeing how God fits together the details of our lives in awe-inspiring ways–through random conversations or the voice of nature, through world events or ordinary moments, through heights of joy or depths of despair. 
You can connect with Tammy at her blog, Seeking What’s of Worth, or on Facebook