Important Disclaimer

Since I currently have several employers/supervisors/churches/etc., please know that none of the words on my blog represent them or their beliefs. This blog is my own creation.

It also does not represent my children's perspective, nor my mother's; they think I am funny, but misguided.
(Quick update: only my mother thinks I'm funny now.)

Thursday, May 19, 2016

A Note On Hope


(cross posted at Practicing Families)

Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. ~Romans 5:1-5

A note on hope. A note on hope from a parent who very occasionally gives up on hope. A note on hope from a parent whose children very occasionally produce the sufferings which produce endurance, which produce character, which supposedly produces hope, which, quite frankly, frequently disappoints, despite the fact that God’s love is poured into my heart through the Ding Dang Holy Spirit.

I found myself recently pondering the ragged remnants of hope, dashed against the rocky shores of adolescence and my limited humanity. It is not a pretty shoreline most days. I won’t bore you with the details—if you care for children, you know the basic outline. I was left standing (just barely), staring at my child who would not change, no matter my persistence, my assistance, my clenched teeth. I was left without hope because I could not see the way forward and I could not turn my back.

So I breathed as deep as I could, taking in as much of God’s grace as I could find. And then I cursed and threw my hands in the air. And my kid LAUGHED. And I SUFFERED.

And then I endured to the next day, because that is what parenting is sometimes. I threw my shattered pieces of hope straight back at the Holy Spirit.

The Lord picked up those pieces and reshaped them and offered them back. And I saw that indeed I could not have hope for my child. Because hope for our children produces expectation, which produces stubborn mule-headed arguments, which produces FRUSTRATION in the 10th degree, which produces cursing and the waving of hands, which solves nothing, but does feel good.

But the Lord handed me back hope for myself. And I saw that no matter what happened with my child, there is hope for what will become of my life. And likewise the Lord will go with my child and the two of them will work out their own deal.

Hope for myself. Trust in the Spirit. This is decidedly better for my heart. And probably for my child.

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