Faithful Paradox

I have written previously about hope. It is still a concept that, at times, can confound me and cause my heart to wrestle deeply. There are times I have felt like a child standing in the sea as the waves crash down. With each wave that comes, I am knocked over. As time goes on, the waves keep coming, but my resilience to stand wanes and I grow weary. I try to stand, but am so tired and discouraged that it becomes easier to simply sit under the crashing waves; maybe even lie down in wearied, defeated discouragement, waiting for the next wave to crash down. It’s a place that I have felt hopeless.

A piece of the Christian life that is hard is knowing I have a God who holds all things together (Colossians 1:17). He is able to do far more than all we can ask or imagine (Ephesians. 3:20). He is able… but it’s not always (or often) his plan to do so… here on earth.

It’s hard knowing that God could heal with a word but chooses not to. It’s hard knowing that God holds all the resources of the world in the palm of his hand and could provide in extravagant ways, yet chooses not to. It’s hard knowing that God could speak a word and restore brokenness and yet for some reason, he allows us to sit in the pain and struggle of this world. It’s hard to know that God allows the unimaginable and also asks us to trust him when there will never be reason or resolve. It’s hard that with each of these pieces of pain and suffering, there is somehow some yet to be known good that will come. It’s confusing and it hurts.

As I sit under the crashing waves, I long for relief. I long for God to call the seas to calm and the waves to stop. He is able to do so with a word; “Peace. Be still” (Mark 4:39). Could it be, however, that as the storm wages on and the waves crash, leaving us longing for relief, the reality is that it was never God’s intent to alleviate the pain or stop the waves, but rather, he allowed the waves because the crashing waves are the very means he intends to use to usher in more of his nearness? The waves carry with them the very presence of God and, as the Psalmist proclaims, his nearness is our good (Psalm 73:28).

God is at work in ways we could never dream or comprehend and while we can know in our heads that he is only good and only kind and always up to more than we could ever understand, it’s still hard to sit under the crashing waves and fight to stand. It’s hard to see the Wave-Maker through the crashing water, with salty eyes and sand bruised knees.

It’s hard. And yet I think we are hard wired to look for the Wave-Maker through the waves. We are hard wired to look for reason. We are hard wired to hope. As much as I try to squelch it, as much as I try to set low bars of expectation and not allow my heart to rise, as I lay in the sea, choosing to not even bother trying to stand, I still feel the desire to hope rise within me. I feel the desire to stand up again and to keep enduring the pounding waves because we were created to hope.

The problem, however, is that all too often my hope is simply too short sighted. I hope that the waves will cease. I hope that the water will warm, the sand will settle and the roiling seas will still. But hoping in the waves is a fool’s hope. True hope must always look past the waves, no matter how high and mighty they seem, and fight to see the Wave-Maker, the Stronghold, the True Light, through the darkness of the crashing storm.

As I continue working my way through the Old Testament, I am struck once again with a very small verse in Zechariah 9:12. It says, “Return to your stronghold, you prisoners of hope.” Prisoners of hope. God is speaking to his people and he gives them a name; prisoners of hope. He beckons them to return to him, to search for him through their storm. He is their stronghold. In the midst of roiling seas and crashing waves, there is a stronghold. No matter how hard things are, no matter the grief, the sadness, the pain, the addiction. No matter the sorrow, the struggle, the loss, because we have Christ, a mighty, unwavering stronghold, we can be prisoners of hope.

With this name, prisoner of hope, daughter of hope, I am learning that the hope cannot be in what God will do, because I simply do not know what he will do. But my hope must be in what God is able to do, because he is indeed able. As I open my heart to hope, I admit that I battle fear. I battle the reality that God may not do what I am hoping and I will once again be crushed under the waves of disappointment and loss. I also recognize, however, that misplaced hope, hope that is rooted in the ceasing of the waves rather than in the Wave-Maker, is what leads to disappointment.

I think the essence of faith is found in this tension. God is able and yet we do not know if he will. With the uncertainty of God’s plans for my life, battling the fear of disappointment, confusion and loss is a constant discipline. It’s forcing myself to look to the kind hands of the Wave-Maker, knowing that he is only good and only kind and for some reason, the waves, which must ask his permission to crash, only crash with a yes from his loving hand. I must not simply look at the waves because this short-sighted view causes my mind and heart to be imprisoned. Instead, I look past the waves to the Wave-Maker; to the one who has called me to hope. He has beckoned me to be a prisoner of hope, always believing in what he is able to do, despite the waves. Always fighting to understand that somehow, in the waves he has allowed, he has more of himself to be found. With every wave he sends, with every wave that crashes down, we are some how made more complete, even if we feel as if we are being torn apart.

One day, all these waves that cause confusion and grief, all the things that leave us lying in the crashing surf, wearied and broken, all the things that simply feel like crushing blows and unanswered prayers will be made right. All the things that leave us in the dark right now will be made light because of Christ. The waves will cease, the skies will clear and we will no longer need to be prisoners of hope because all hope will be both fulfilled and recognized.