By the title of this blog, you can probably guess that I’m setting the stage for the last book in the Daughters of the Promised Land series. The story of Hannah.
And while I may mention her life here, what I really wanted to talk about is hope. What does the Bible say about hope? What does it feel like to lose hope or to have hope restored?
Job lamented, “Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant what I hope for…”
David prayed, “But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you.”
Solomon declared, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”
Isaiah famously said, “Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall;but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
Jeremiah also declared that God had a “future and a hope” in store for those who loved Him, but he also said in this lesser known verse, “So there is hope for your descendants,” declares the Lord. “Your children will return to their own land.”
And in one of Jeremiah’s laments, he said, “I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”
I could go on and on. I encourage you to search Bible Gateway or some other online Bible search tool and look up the word “hope”. There you will find the ancients moaning in hopelessness and lifting their heads heavenward for their truest hope. Praise and hope meet together in their words and despair finally meets its end when hope is restored.
In Hannah’s story we find a woman with very little to hope in or hope for. Her land was in near ruins from corruption and greed and she shared her husband with a bitter rival. Add barrenness on top of all of that and I’m not sure I could have handled her pain.
But there are other kinds of things we hope for, aren’t there? Other things that bring us great trial and pain and despair—hope deferred, making us heartsick.
Fear has a way of stealing hope, and the other day I asked my readers what they feared most. I thought I would receive answers linked to the chaotic world in which we live, but I didn’t get those kinds of answers.
The biggest fear? Loss.
And doesn’t loss steal our hope of something better yet to come? I’m not talking small losses that can easily be replaced. These were the big ones, like loss of life, of companionship, of family, of salvation, of health. And aren’t each one of those things also linked to hope?
I think if we’ve faced the biggies:loss of health — we wonder if we will live long enough to see our children or grandchildren grow up. Hopes of a close family — the devastating rift or a misunderstanding or a parent’s or a child’s decision to walk away.
And honestly? I’ve faced some pretty hopeless days, haven’t you? I could relate much too well to nearly every universal fear my readers faced and graciously shared with me. I can bet we have all prayed some pretty hopeless prayers. The other day I told a friend at church that sometimes hope hangs by a thread. And I would bet she feels the same way in her life circumstances.
I’ve listened to people who recently found out they have cancer and are hoping to beat it or have faced cancer and are praying it doesn’t return. I listened to a speaker talk about the trials of marriage, and I wondered how it felt to the singles in a crowd who wish God would grant them that trial because they are so tired of being alone. Does hope hang by a thread for them?
Or what about the couple who can’t reconcile their differences, or the child who cries alone in the dark, or the widow who does the same? Each one of these things shows a measure of loss, of hope deferred, which as Solomon said, “makes the heart sick.”
I wonder how heartsick Hannah felt before she prayed her desperate prayer? She was willing to surrender everything, to give up the child she wanted most just for the privilege of having that child for a short time.
Could I have done the same?
When I was in similar infertile shoes, I did as Hannah did and God gave us three sons. We dedicated each one to God as Hannah did, and prayed they would grow up to serve and love Him—probably like Hannah did. But we didn’t have to leave them at a temple to live among corrupt priests. Whose trial was more hopeless? Without a doubt, Hannah’s, in my opinion, as I’m just not that strong.
When my hope hangs by a thread, when I’m at my weakest, that’s when God is most able to give me His strength. If I call on Him. If I stop trying to do this thing called life on my own.
Because when I’m finally at the place where I recognize that I can’t do this?
That’s when I can because of Him.
The passionate hope Hannah knew, she only knew because she believed that Adonai had heard her prayer. She prayed for a child, but I think she prayed for so much more. I believe she prayed for her life to change, her heart to be filled with gladness again, her agony over her circumstances to ease. She needed to know God saw her and that He had not abandoned her. With Him, she would never be alone.
And God didn’t simply give her Samuel. He gave her a future and a hope. He gave her Himself. In an imperfect world, when we finally realize that we really have little to hope for, when our personal hope is barely hanging on, we can remember that we do have a Person who has promised to be our hope.
He is the God of hope. And He is with us through every storm. With a passion!
“May theGodofhope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of theHoly Spirit.” Romans 15:13 NIV
~Selah
#livehope
