Waiting is hard and hope a reckless necessity when a bride is dying of cancer. I begged God to shine on my friends Josh and Jean, and still the updates of her battle were filled with anguish and little hope.
That was last year.
Hope isn't for the blithe. Darkness and longing must be faced in order to know how to watch at the window for the first streaks of dawn. Only those whose eyes are trained to peer through the night will catch the moment it begins to pale.
Hope isn't for the times we feel we can control the ending of the page or the chapter, or even know the end of the book. We're allowed to seal our hearts against it, if we want. God lets us choose numbness and despair, in cowardice and pride refusing to open ourselves to the possibility that we do not know and do not rule.
Because hope is an admission that we are not in control.
It's foolishness to sit in darkness, asking God to rise like the sun, when you have said the same words over and over for endless weeks while the waiting grinds on and you have no proof God hears. Only a fool will stand in defiance against suffocating despair and proclaim, "Even if God isn't listening and these are only words, I WILL SAY THEM."
And this is how hope redeems us of our pride.
Because hope is only for the foolish who gamble everything on God... The reckless ones who are brave enough to admit we can't see the end. And can't begin to control it.
Hope is for the foolish ones who trust the One who knows what it is to be blood and bones and walk in dirt and cry over dying ones He loves... and wait long and hard until He shows up... whether in this age or in the next.
(Thank you, God. Thank you that Josh still has Jean this year.)