Hope Does Not Put Us to Shame

There are moments when the hopelessness is palpable. When the pain is so great you can feel it all around you. When the heartache consumes every single one of your senses. 

I know.

I know this is one of those moments. 

I know right now nothing seems like it will ever get better. I know it seems like we could never possibly know wholeness again. I know right now hope feels impossible, it may even feel like it’s a swear word. 

I know the brokenness you feel is heavier than you know how to carry. I know your hands are tired. I know your back is breaking. I know your tears are all dried up. I know your voice is horse from having to beg for justice, your throat sore from shouting for mercy. I know you’re tired. 

I know. 

I know your heart is aching. I know the world seems really scary right now, and nothing feels like home. I know you just want it all to be over.

I know. 

I know how scared and alone you feel. I know you wish you could call someone to come and pick you up and take you somewhere safe and warm. I know you just want out of the cold. 

I know. 

I know this pain. I don’t know what it feels like exactly for you, and I’ve never known it on a national level like this before, but I’m familiar with the pain. 

I am no stranger to the hopelessness, the heaviness, the ache, the loneliness, the cold, or the fear. 

On my own level, in my own way, in my own life, for my own reasons, I’ve felt it. 

I know. 

I remember New Years Eve 2018, I was the most depressed I had ever been. But I’ve always believed in the New Year, I’ve always believed something about the moment of hope it held. So I wrote up an Instagram caption about hope. I said that you were not foolish to be hopeful. I cited Romans 5:5, clinging to it with my smaller-than-a-mustard-seed-sized-faith. Romans 5:5 reads this, “hope does not put us to shame.” In order to keep going in any capacity, I had to believe some tiny portion of that was true. I had to believe hope wouldn’t put me to shame. 

So I kept showing up, and eventually it proved to be true. But I would never dare tell you it happened instantly or over night. There were many, many more tears, more moments of hopelessness, of despair, of heartache, of fear,  and moments of grief so strong I could taste it. The healing was painful. And the healing was slow. But the healing came. Still. 

Theres something to these moments, or maybe even more appropriately, seasons, of hopelessness. Interestingly enough, there’s more to Romans 5, too. It reads this:

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”

Something happens in these moments of hopelessness, because something comes from our suffering. 

Please hear me, God is not the source of suffering. God is not the reason for pain and heartache, sin is. We live in a fallen world, filled with sin. When sin entered the picture everything changed, and man was introduced to pain it wasn’t intended to know. But in His mercy, God doesn’t allow our suffering to exist in vain. 

Even heartache God gives purpose. 

So, here’s what happens, here’s what our suffering produces: perseverance. Perseverance produces character. Character produces hope. And hope does not put us to shame. 

I know the process feels slow. I know we all wish we could get it over with, but 2 Peter 3:9 tells us this, “the Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”

Might we see that even in the slowness God is working, that He won’t break His promises, that even as we are restless He is patient. 

When we stick around, when we allow God to make good in our suffering, taking us from suffering to perseverance, to character, to hope, there we will find true that hope does not put us to shame. 

I know the night is dark. I know the cries are loud. I know the pain is real. I know you don’t know how much longer you think you can make it. But hold on.

Hold on.

Hold on. 

The sun is rising and the morning is coming. Hope really is coming.

And hope does not put us to shame.