Appreciate these reflections. I just had a thought that I compound my own suffering, caused by some prolonged circumstances, by thoughts that I SHOULD have figured out a way to stop it by now. If I were better, loved better, communicated better, then I wouldn't have to suffer this disconnection. I tend to focus on the goal of resolving something I haven't been able to resolve, and thus get stuck there. But the times I recognize that Jesus surrendered to his suffering and because of that, he is with me in mine, hope can emerge BEFORE it gets resolved... if I focus on the reality that he is with me, working something in me through this.
Goodness, Rachel, THIS is profound and so resonates with me: " I tend to focus on the goal of resolving something I haven't been able to resolve, and thus get stuck there. But the times I recognize that Jesus surrendered to his suffering and because of that, he is with me in mine, hope can emerge BEFORE it gets resolved"
I don’t know if this relates but your message did resonate with me. I’ve recently seen in myself that as I’ve aged and disappointments have grown, the pain is there but I find myself looking more to Him. I do see that the struggles do grow in me a greater endurance and all those things written that bloom from trials and adversity. Doesn’t make it easier but there’s some peace in seeing Gods will and work in it.
I am seeing this in friends older than me and seeing early signs of this in myself ... it feels like life is more and more the Wendell Berry novel I didn't necessarily want it to be, when I was twenty: the beautiful and the hard all mingled ... until the end
Thank you - I needed to hear what you said right about now, on several points - I am not currently in acute pain, but usually I am, whether physical, emotional, mental or spiritual, and in the last few days I have been unusually more hopeful - but sandwiched in between was one severely painful day where I woke up unable to calm down over the possible loss of my closest friend who recently discovered she has a brain aneurism...I just could not stop crying and shaking in terror about the possible or probable result of it even though she only today goes to the brain specialist surgeon for more info...so I went to see her, and only being with her, looking not in pain or terror herself, was I able to calm down, and my hope was restored even though that is no guarantee of her recovery. I have been praying a lot of those Help prayers lately about her as well as about my dwindling income living on disability SSDI not covering my basics and no family other than my best friend to be with in prayerful support - so I know how quickly, humanly speaking, hope can rise up and just as suddenly depart, and so up and down, but what I am learning slowly but surely is to practice praising Him in the midst, just praising Him every day, no matter my mood, my pain or my feeling down, or whatever, - just practicing day by day as things rise and fall...and that, in the long run, feels good and right and sometimes even easy...
Beautiful reflections, Sara. I just arrived home from a memorial service. A friend's mum passed away a few weeks back and the family held a memorial for her. Margaret was a remarkable woman, one of those humans who always seems to have time for others, welcomes extras to her table and reflects the heart of Jesus in all she does. It was a wonderful turnout and celebration for an 84 year old who had lived a life seeking to follow Jesus.
The service was both a celebration but also much sadness because Marg was no longer part of our lives, even though we know that she is now with Jesus. There was this interesting comment that kinda mirrored this dichotomy: life as we age involves carrying grief in the one hand and gratitude in the other. I liked that ... because it's so true. We grieve what we and who we've lost and seek too be grateful for all the goodness God brings into our life at the same time.
It certainly left me with some food for thought along with your post, Sara.
I had just prayed and cried for about an hour for God to help me overcome my hopelessness. Then I read your post, and it changed my mindset. I have lupus and cancer, and I'm raising my three-year-old granddaughter, who has special needs that break my heart. I've been incredibly emotional this week because she was supposed to have a life-altering open-heart surgery on Thursday. Then, it was canceled for the fifth time, and we don't have a new date yet. I've worked through many faith issues surrounding all these circumstances, but this setback felt like it broke me. I couldn't see an end to all this emotional trauma. Then I read your words about Romans 5 and realized I needed to accept the process. Like you, I have read those verses many times but haven't applied them to my current situation. Just because I can't see hope for the future doesn't mean it's not there. God cares; he is good even when I can't see what he is doing. For right now, my hope has returned.
Sara, this is an important message. When we can shout from the rooftops, or at the very least whisper loudly enough for the person next to us to hear, that suffering and hope can indeed co-exist, we infuse true hope into the world. They are partners, not at odds with one another, and they work so bittersweet and beautifully when conjoined. I really appreciated your honesty, vulnerability, and wisdom here.
Such wise words, Sara. We have suffered more loss over the years (my husband and I are in our 70's now) that was so devastating I thought it would surely cost me my faith. Over time I think I have come to believe that without a sure foundation of trust nothing is possible. If I cannot trust God to be who He says He is or that He will do as He has promised, all hope is lost. Once I settle that trust issue in my heart I can place the suffering in His hands with hope and surrender.
I love your insight that "without a sure foundation of trust, nothing is possible." I've been grappling with devastating challenges, and it has revealed the limits of my trust. Slowly, my trust is returning, but I'm learning it is a process.
Appreciate these reflections. I just had a thought that I compound my own suffering, caused by some prolonged circumstances, by thoughts that I SHOULD have figured out a way to stop it by now. If I were better, loved better, communicated better, then I wouldn't have to suffer this disconnection. I tend to focus on the goal of resolving something I haven't been able to resolve, and thus get stuck there. But the times I recognize that Jesus surrendered to his suffering and because of that, he is with me in mine, hope can emerge BEFORE it gets resolved... if I focus on the reality that he is with me, working something in me through this.
Goodness, Rachel, THIS is profound and so resonates with me: " I tend to focus on the goal of resolving something I haven't been able to resolve, and thus get stuck there. But the times I recognize that Jesus surrendered to his suffering and because of that, he is with me in mine, hope can emerge BEFORE it gets resolved"
Ditto.. oh my... I keep ruminating on how to resolve the thing I can't, and feel more and more despair
I don’t know if this relates but your message did resonate with me. I’ve recently seen in myself that as I’ve aged and disappointments have grown, the pain is there but I find myself looking more to Him. I do see that the struggles do grow in me a greater endurance and all those things written that bloom from trials and adversity. Doesn’t make it easier but there’s some peace in seeing Gods will and work in it.
I am seeing this in friends older than me and seeing early signs of this in myself ... it feels like life is more and more the Wendell Berry novel I didn't necessarily want it to be, when I was twenty: the beautiful and the hard all mingled ... until the end
Beautiful reflection. Thank you for the reminder that both suffering and hope can be born and tended together.
Thank you, Caroline.
Thank you - I needed to hear what you said right about now, on several points - I am not currently in acute pain, but usually I am, whether physical, emotional, mental or spiritual, and in the last few days I have been unusually more hopeful - but sandwiched in between was one severely painful day where I woke up unable to calm down over the possible loss of my closest friend who recently discovered she has a brain aneurism...I just could not stop crying and shaking in terror about the possible or probable result of it even though she only today goes to the brain specialist surgeon for more info...so I went to see her, and only being with her, looking not in pain or terror herself, was I able to calm down, and my hope was restored even though that is no guarantee of her recovery. I have been praying a lot of those Help prayers lately about her as well as about my dwindling income living on disability SSDI not covering my basics and no family other than my best friend to be with in prayerful support - so I know how quickly, humanly speaking, hope can rise up and just as suddenly depart, and so up and down, but what I am learning slowly but surely is to practice praising Him in the midst, just praising Him every day, no matter my mood, my pain or my feeling down, or whatever, - just practicing day by day as things rise and fall...and that, in the long run, feels good and right and sometimes even easy...
Oh beth, what a road. That human hope is like the ride on the rollercoaster. I know that, well.
Beautiful reflections, Sara. I just arrived home from a memorial service. A friend's mum passed away a few weeks back and the family held a memorial for her. Margaret was a remarkable woman, one of those humans who always seems to have time for others, welcomes extras to her table and reflects the heart of Jesus in all she does. It was a wonderful turnout and celebration for an 84 year old who had lived a life seeking to follow Jesus.
The service was both a celebration but also much sadness because Marg was no longer part of our lives, even though we know that she is now with Jesus. There was this interesting comment that kinda mirrored this dichotomy: life as we age involves carrying grief in the one hand and gratitude in the other. I liked that ... because it's so true. We grieve what we and who we've lost and seek too be grateful for all the goodness God brings into our life at the same time.
It certainly left me with some food for thought along with your post, Sara.
Go well. x
YES! This is like Lisa's comment above - a theme, perhaps: "life as we age involves carrying grief in the one hand and gratitude in the other"
That line is gold!
He’s coming back!
Thank you!!! I needed this! Lots of loss, pain, ready for and thankful to have this Hope!
I had just prayed and cried for about an hour for God to help me overcome my hopelessness. Then I read your post, and it changed my mindset. I have lupus and cancer, and I'm raising my three-year-old granddaughter, who has special needs that break my heart. I've been incredibly emotional this week because she was supposed to have a life-altering open-heart surgery on Thursday. Then, it was canceled for the fifth time, and we don't have a new date yet. I've worked through many faith issues surrounding all these circumstances, but this setback felt like it broke me. I couldn't see an end to all this emotional trauma. Then I read your words about Romans 5 and realized I needed to accept the process. Like you, I have read those verses many times but haven't applied them to my current situation. Just because I can't see hope for the future doesn't mean it's not there. God cares; he is good even when I can't see what he is doing. For right now, my hope has returned.
Sara, this is an important message. When we can shout from the rooftops, or at the very least whisper loudly enough for the person next to us to hear, that suffering and hope can indeed co-exist, we infuse true hope into the world. They are partners, not at odds with one another, and they work so bittersweet and beautifully when conjoined. I really appreciated your honesty, vulnerability, and wisdom here.
May God see our hoping…
Such wise words, Sara. We have suffered more loss over the years (my husband and I are in our 70's now) that was so devastating I thought it would surely cost me my faith. Over time I think I have come to believe that without a sure foundation of trust nothing is possible. If I cannot trust God to be who He says He is or that He will do as He has promised, all hope is lost. Once I settle that trust issue in my heart I can place the suffering in His hands with hope and surrender.
I love your insight that "without a sure foundation of trust, nothing is possible." I've been grappling with devastating challenges, and it has revealed the limits of my trust. Slowly, my trust is returning, but I'm learning it is a process.