Hope for our Future

"Hope" is such a loaded word. Even pregnant with meaning. I'm not sure I understood the meaning before infertility. Recently, I've been thinking more about hope. Hope in God. Hope in our future. Hope for our little ones.

I was listening to Rita Springer's song "Justice" [a must download on iTunes!] about her love for her adopted African son, Justice. She hopefully sang of "hope for our future", and it got me thinking about how we hope for our little ones. But at the same time they are also hoping for us! It was not our hope to experience infertility [although we've been committed to adoption for years]. And it's not our babies' hope to lose their biological parents. But the crazy thing about God is that he weaves hope into our losses, our deepest pain, into our less-than-desired futures. And hope transforms.

Jeremiah 29:11 is a often quoted verse, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" We quote it as a promise for purpose. But what's not mentioned with that verse is the 70 years of captivity and exile prior to the announcement of that verse. Ugh. 70 years of waiting before the promise! Yet God never leaves us in that waiting. Eventually, somehow, someway, hope and future are found in waiting. God's plans for us are good; it just might come in a different package than expected.

The hope for our future is in Jesus, and we also get to experience it through adoption. For that, I am grateful.

Hope Is...

A smattering of really smart, deeply moving, and spiritually profound descriptions on hope (from Dan Allender's The Healing Path). Instead of reading through these quickly, savor them like a fine wine...

• When hope dies, vitality, passion, and creativity are lost.
• Waiting stirs the soul's deep struggle with hope. We think it pleasant to hope, but in fact, nothing is more difficult than to hope. Hope lifts us up and gives us a view of how much ground must still be traveling on our journey. It allows us to see the horizon, usually far beyond our reach.
• God lets us wait - not to punish us, not because he has forgotten us, but because our waiting is the crucible he uses to purify our hope for him.
• Biblical hope leads one to wait with eager patience.
• Hope makes us playful, free, and inventive. Hope is not naive desire but a calculated risk that declares, whatever the loss, it is better than remaining where we are.
• When the storms come, we typically respond to them by raging against the gale or turning away from the loss, resigned and despondent. Most choose the latter option, because once we relinquish desire the loss does not seem so severe. But resignation is always a betrayal, not only of desire but also hope. Hope is the quiet, sometimes incessant call to dream for the future...Hope cannot be killed, not ever, but it can be drugged numb and sleepy...Biblical hope is substantial faith regarding the future. Hope looks at the shattered remnants of the soul hit by the storm and envisions not merely rebuilding, but rebuilding a life that has even more purpose and meaning than existed before the loss.

...and I'm only a little more than half way through the book! I may blog on some of this more later. But today I pray for you and me that when storms of pain head our way that we would choose to rage against the gale and fight for home. And as we fight for hope that we'd become more playful, free, inventive, creative, and passionate people. More of who we were created to by. Knowing more of the one who created us.

The Healing Path

One of the tasks of my Sabbatical has been to revisit this painful past year (or two). The author I chose to guide me through is Dan Allender. I've read a number of his books and love everything he has to say. During my Sabbatical, I've been pacing myself through The Healing Path. I've been tempted to race through it because it's so readable and I'm so resonating with it, but I also want to slowly absorb it and let it touch those wounded, tender places in my soul.

One of the more profound truths I've absorbed is quoted from theologian Frederick Buechner,

We are never more alive to life than when it hurts -
more aware both of our own powerlessness to save ourselves
and of at least the possibility of a power beyond ourselves to save us
and heal us if you can only open ourselves to it.

Yes! I've said on a number of occasions in the past few months with the raw pain behind us that I almost miss some of the heartbreak of our infertility journey. Not because I'm a masochist. Not because I wish we were still going through medical treatment. Not because I wish I was pregnant. But because the intensity of my pain allowed me to go to places with God, Brian, myself, and my community that pain-free living does not. I do not wish to go back to those moments of desperation and despair, but I do long to be fully alive (thus my tattoo). And pain does that more than anything.

Of course, I am desperately seeking to live in the change that this journey has produced. I want to live with open hands to God's life-changing power and experience that LIFE in every way, every day. And I want my pain and heartbreak to heal me more and more...