The Process of Hope

I’ve heard people say they go to a grave of a loved one to talk to them. To feel close to them somehow.

I don’t.

Nothing reminds me of the distance between my Daddy and me more than the gut-punch every time I see his name in a slab of stone in the ground.

So it seemed crazy to me when I realized that in the hardest moments in life - when I miss him the most - is when I go to the cemetery. Or when I at least feel the desire to run there. I first dismissed it as just needing a good cry in a place where no one was around to ask me what’s wrong or be upset by my tears. Or ask me for a snack for the upteenth time, when I’m trying to have a meltdown over here, geez!

 But that’s not it. And this morning, God sweetly pointed out what it IS. I don’t occasionally run to a graveyard simply for a good cry in the peace and quiet of the country. No... I do it because my heavenly Father is urging me there: Because God often takes us to the place of our deepest pain in order to meet us. And bring some healing.

See...I went there yesterday. In the pouring rain. If I hadn’t been in such a miserable state, I might have thought it seemed like a good movie scene: sitting at a cemetery, in a pretty, country setting, hot tears mixing with cold rain drops, etc. But in reality, I looked like a sobbing wet dog, and I was annoyed at the wild turkey in the field nearby who didn’t have the decency to stop eating and leave me alone.

But I stayed for a while. I cried out to God - I asked Him "why" again. I told Him I really still needed my Daddy. I confessed I didn't have the strength to keep on keeping on in some areas of life right now. I admitted (again) that even though it's probably really immature, I felt like it wouldn't be quite as hard if Daddy was still here.

This is what struck me this morning: 99% of the time I was there yesterday, I was talking to GOD. Not Daddy. And then I just sat and listened. I didn't hear a voice from heaven and I didn't feel strength flood me. I felt spent. I still felt weak. But I eventually quit crying AS much and began shivering SO much, that I left. And I drove home in a state of more peace. It's funny, because what I didn't realize at the moment was I HAD been strengthened. Simply from Him meeting me. I saw this in my responses as the day went on; I was surprised by it because I knew it wasn't ME or MY strength!

I sense His presence often, but there are times where I don't. I FEEL like He's absent. (He never is.) I believe these times are ways of Him loving me just as well as any other - it's just not fun. Often, He's letting me see things about my heart that I didn't want to see. Things I need to confess; things I need to let go; things I need to forgive; things I value above Him; things in which I need healing.

He's let a series of circumstances happen recently to bring me to this point. And honestly, I let myself get into a pretty depressed state. I've found that no matter how much I sometimes wish it were the case, He doesn't usually snap His fingers and everything looks great. It's not a "wake up one morning and suddenly it all makes sense and sunshine and rainbows appear" kind of thing. It can be really dark before the sunlight starts to seep through the clouds. Because it's a process; real and lasting and true results happen through process. Sometimes I hate that word. Kind of like "waiting." I prefer words like "instant" and "sudden." I'd like the microwave version of heart-change, thank you very much.
But that's not how our wise and loving Father works. Because He wants the real deal. The best. Purity; which only happens through intense heat. A process.

For me the place of deepest pain is at the grave of my father - my hero, confidant, encourager, kindred spirit, and best friend since I was tiny. I know I am incredibly blessed to have had this when so many people do not. The flip side of that is that it still hurts like hell when it's been almost 7 years since we said goodbye.
But for you the place of deepest pain may be totally different. There may not be a physical marker to run to and have a good cry. It may be a wound invisible to anyone else. But it's NO less real! Regardless of what it looks like, we all live in a fallen world and have pain. No one's is the exact same as another's, but we have pain in common. The blessing of this is that we can encourage each other at the root. As someone I love and admire greatly, said: "Suffering is suffering." (George Waller)

The biggest joy in the midst of the pain is that we have a constant reminder to press in to the heart and arms of Jesus. No, we wouldn't have chosen the trial or the loss or the hurt. But if we don't run from it - and instead let it be the "entry-point" where the Great Physician has ready access to our hearts in order to bring healing and wellness - our joy and contentment will be real.
Will life be easy? Um, probably not.
Will the hurt magically vanish? No, it still happened.
Will the one we miss come back? I wish.
But we will have peace. Regardless. Through the only one Who won't hurt or disappoint or leave. 

Ironically, for the last few weeks the song I have set to play on my phone as my alarm each morning is "I Have This Hope," by Tenth Avenue North. It sums it up better than all these words I've just typed. But I needed to. I needed to process as part of the process. :) Thank you for indulging me.

I leave you with the lyrics...and pray they sink deeply into our souls so we have True Hope on a daily basis.

As I walk this great unknown 

Questions come and questions go 

Was there purpose for the pain? 

Did I cry these tears in vain? 

I don't want to live in fear 

I want to trust that You are near 

Trust Your grace can be seen 

In both triumph and tragedy 

I have this hope 

In the depth of my soul 

In the flood or the fire 

You're with me and You won't let go 

But sometimes my faith feels thin 

Like the night will never end 

Will You catch every tear 

Or will You just leave me here? 

But I have this hope 

In the depth of my soul 

In the flood or the fire 

You're with me and You won't let go 

Yes, I have this hope 

In the depth of my soul 

In the flood or the fire 

You're with me and You won't let go 

So, whatever happens I will not be afraid 

Cause You are closer than this breath that I take 

You calm the storm when I hear You call my name 

I still believe that one day I'll see Your face 

I have this hope 

In the depth of my soul 

In the flood or the fire 

You're with me 

I have this hope 

In the depth of my soul 

In the flood or the fire 

You're with me and You won't let go 

In the flood or the fire 

You're with me and You won't let go 

In the flood or the fire You're with me and You won't let go