"But this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases,
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is thy faithfulness."
(Lamentations 3:21-24)
When God gave me the word "hope" this year, I never expected the storms that lie in wait. I also never expected the way He would find me right in the middle of the rubble. In the middle of some really hard sifting, I've cried out to Him. I've doubted, questioned, wrestled...and the more I tossed and turned over circumstances beyond my control, the more hopeless I felt.
Jeremiah understood that feeling of hopelessness too. In this passage, he is looking at the rubble that was once Jerusalem and weeping over the devastation. I can only imagine how hopeless he must have felt the more he stared at the rubble. But God is still faithful in the storms. When all we can see is the rubble and mess, it's so easy to get lost in the darkness of it all.
I find this even more true in motherhood. It's so easy to become overwhelmed with the never ending to-do lists or undone by the constant need to discipline children who are born with the same sin nature as me. The more I focus on my circumstances, the more I fail. And the more I focus on those failures, the more I drown in hopelessness. It's only when I call to mind the only hope that is sure and steadfast that I can begin to see out of the rubble and remember His goodness.
I love how C.H. Spurgeon explained the real meaning of "hope" found in this passage. He says that "...in the New Zealand language, the word for hope is 'swimming thought' - the thought that swims when everything else is drowned".
I have a memory from my childhood that I keep bringing to mind. I was probably around seven or eight and we were swimming at an indoor pool as a family. I dove underwater and propelled myself across the pool and quickly began to reach for the surface before I ran out of breath. But instead of breaking through the surface, my head hit something solid and for a moment I panicked.
Every time I remember this, I can feel again the weight of the water and the overwhelming fear that I was drowning. The solid barrier I had run into was my dad sitting on an inflatable tube. I don't honestly remember how I got myself back to the surface, but when I did I remember sobbing to my dad that I nearly drowned. My dad, ignoring the panic and fear in my voice, instead chided me for not paying attention better.
Sometimes the storms of life feel like that moment. When I least expect it, a wave comes crashing down and pulls me under. I propel myself to the surface, but, instead of reaching the surface, I hit another storm that pulls me right back under. I begin to wonder how I could have missed the coming storm, ignoring the inner storm of anxiety making its way to the surface of my mind and heart...and, before I know it, I feel like I'm drowning.
But there is rescue and it comes in the form of the One who is a steady anchor of hope. When I call out to Him instead of trying to fight my own way to the surface, He reaches out His hand. It's only then that I realize He has been there all along; I was just paying too much attention to the storm to see Him.
Hope, then, is the One who is steadfast and sure, who never forsakes and never forgets, whose mercies never end and love never fails. Even when I forget to look up, I still find Him there waiting with fresh mercies and renewed hope...and, oh, what grace is found in that beautiful truth!
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