Hope

We will be singing "In Christ Alone" this Sunday at my church, and the words to the first verse have been continually running through my head and heart since we rehearsed it Wed night.

"In Christ alone, my hope is found;
He is my light, my strength, my song;
This cornerstone, this solid ground,
firm through the fiercest drought and storm;
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
when fears are stilled, when strivings cease;
My comforter, my All in all, here in the love of Christ I stand."

When we've sung this song in the past, I've always relished the last 2 verses. (Really, though, every single verse in this song is completely awesome and SO powerful.) But after this past year, this first verse stands out to me the most. My hope is not found in my family, in circumstances going the way I want them to, or even in whether God answers my prayers the way I want Him to. My hope and your hope is found IN CHRIST. ALONE. The word "hope" is a weird word to me, that I often confuse with faith. It's also a very important & meaningful word to me. My middle name is Hope. We buried Rusty in the "Garden of Hope". The passage Kevin shared with me the day after Rusty died that I have clung to ever since is Lamentations 3:21 - 33. That first verse says, "This I recall to mind, therefore I have HOPE" (emphasis mine). I could be wrong, but here's how I think of hope versus faith. Faith is the unbreakable assurance that all God's promises are true. Sometimes, though, storms come and shake our faith. The waves get so big that it's hard to fix our eyes on the Author and Finisher of our faith, and we get tempted to look down at the waves instead. I think hope is that expectation that keeps us looking in the direction we last saw faith. Faith is the beacon shining from the lighthouse. Hope is the instinct that compels us forward into the storm, in the direction we last remember seeing the light shining, even when we can't see a thing and all we can feel is pain and confusion. When people lose all hope, like my brother did, they fall under the storm-ravaged waves. Faith never stopped shining as a beacon, but they lost the expectation (or hope) of ever finding it again and they lost their bearings.

But just as Christ is the Author and Finisher or Perfecter of our faith, this song reminds us that He is also our only source of hope. He is steadfast even through the fiercest storm. The heights of His love for us are limitless. The depths of His peace are unfathomable. When we cling to Him alone as our source of hope, our fears are stilled, and our strivings cease. For me, it makes me stop striving to figure out the answers to all my questions about Rusty's death. It makes me stop wrestling with God's sovereignty, and to be still and rest in His comfort and love. I'm tempted to say, "I can't stop and rest now! I have to keep my hand on the tiller. I have to control the rudder and make sure this vessel is heading the direction I want it to." But Jesus is the Captain. He's at the helm. If I let go and rest in Him, and put my hope in Him alone, I will find that He always, ALWAYS guides me safely to the harbor He has prepared for me. So what are you putting your hope in today? Are you ready to let it go and cling to Jesus alone? I can promise you it's always the best choice.

I Can't Fix This

It will be 3 weeks ago tomorrow that my youngest brother took his life. I've blogged about the details of that night, but haven't been able to post it yet. I don't know that I ever will. It was just good for me to get it out of my head and down on "paper".

The week after it happened, I met with my worship pastor/friend to help sort through some of my emotions and thoughts. One of the things he pointed out was that I was struggling with the fact that I couldn't control what happened, and I can't control the grief process. He talked about how an intercessor can fall into the delusion that they can control things through their prayers, and I especially thought I could protect my family by praying for them. He was exactly right. And it made me mad. On some level, though, the truth of what he said sunk in, and I have been pondering it ever since.

I keep playing through my mind the phone call where Mom told me Rusty was dead. It took a minute for it to sink in, but then the wave of heartbreak and grief flooded over me. I knew there had been some initial thought that hit me just before that wave did. As I've sorted through everything as best as I can, I remember what that thought was. "I can't fix this." Usually, when any family member called with a crisis, I would immediately start trying to figure out how to fix it. And I usually had good solutions. But this time, there was absolutely nothing I could do to fix it. Rusty was gone. My mom was experiencing the worst pain any parent could experience. And all I could do was cry with her.

But in recent days, I've heard the most wonderful thought being spoken into my spirit: "I've already fixed this." You see, Rusty's suicide did not take God by surprise. And He truly had made every provision for it. In Sept of 2009, Rusty had prayed with my pastor to receive Jesus as his Savior. Jesus "fixed this" when He died for Rusty on the cross, and defeated death and the grave when He rose from the dead on the third day! Jesus is the solution to my brother's death, and to our grief. And I can say with boldness: Death, where is your victory? Grave, where is your sting?

So, the fact is, I couldn't fix this. I can't fix this. But, the TRUTH is, I don't have to, because God already did. Praise the Lord!!