(This post is part of a series. For previous posts in the series please see #1, #2., #3, #4, #5, #6, #7, #8, #9,#10, #11, #12)
I saw them at the end of a blustery, cold, mid-November walk, with rain spitting into my face and the wind pushing me from behind. The evergreens just down the road, God's reminder even in the bleak mid-winter that life is just under the surface of all the gray and brown. It's easy to see why Christians embraced the Germanic tradition of decorating fir trees with lights, redeeming the meaning for the Christmas celebration. Evergreens are reminders of Hope.
In this caregiving season, I'm learning a lot about hope - what it is and what it isn't. Biblical hope isn't wishful thinking. It's not anticipating a specific outcome. Frankly, if that were the extent of it, I would have lost hope a long time ago. While I know and believe God can heal my husband at any moment, the progression of his disease despite our believing prayers leads me to conclude God has a different plan. My hope isn't tied to the reversal of dementia. Instead, Biblical hope is tied to a person - Jesus - and grounded in a historical fact - the Resurrection.
Biblical hope says that because He created the world perfect, all the results of the fall, including dementia, grieve Him like they grieve us. Biblical hope says that because He became human, He knows what it is like to grieve in these bodies that are limited by space and time. His grieving over Lazarus tells me that what we feel matters to Him, deeply. He doesn't minimize it, and neither should we. When people reach out to me in love and concern and practical help, I feel the hope that comes with the incarnation - a God who doesn't let me go through the valley alone.
Biblical hope also says that when He died and rose again, He proclaimed a profound truth: What we experience here is not all there is. After the tears, there was "Lazarus, come forth." And after the cross, there was an empty tomb. Jesus became Hope personified. He is my Living Hope.
I won't pretend that this is getting easier. It's not. In many ways it's getting ever so much harder. And yet, as I continue to learn about Hope, I learn that it is always living, or it doesn't exist.... that every day I am living hope out, living out the truth of the resurrection - even through my tears.
Living Hope by Phil WIckham
How great the chasm that lay between us
How high the mountain I could not climb
In desperation, I turned to heaven
And spoke Your name into the night
Then through the darkness, Your loving-kindness
Tore through the shadows of my soul
The work is finished, the end is written
Jesus Christ, my living hope
How great the chasm that lay between us
How high the mountain I could not climb
In desperation, I turned to heaven
And spoke Your name into the night
Then through the darkness, Your loving-kindness
Tore through the shadows of my soul
The work is finished, the end is written
Jesus Christ, my living hope
Who could imagine so great a mercy?
What heart could fathom such boundless grace?
The God of ages stepped down from glory
To wear my sin and bear my shame
The cross has spoken, I am forgiven
The King of kings calls me His own
Beautiful Savior, I'm Yours forever
Jesus Christ, my living hope
What heart could fathom such boundless grace?
The God of ages stepped down from glory
To wear my sin and bear my shame
The cross has spoken, I am forgiven
The King of kings calls me His own
Beautiful Savior, I'm Yours forever
Jesus Christ, my living hope
Hallelujah, praise the One who set me free
Hallelujah, death has lost its grip on me
You have broken every chain
There's salvation in Your name
Jesus Christ, my living hope
Hallelujah, death has lost its grip on me
You have broken every chain
There's salvation in Your name
Jesus Christ, my living hope
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