In my last post,

I shared 30 Random Thoughts When You’re Deeply Discouraged.

I was shocked and humbled by the overwhelming response.

Which either means you’re carrying something heavy right now, or you just like lists.
I’m guessing it’s the former.

So I’ve decided to write a briefly expanded post on each of the 30 random thoughts, because I need these reminders as much as anyone. Especially now.

Today, let’s talk about the first one on the list—

Thought #1: One way we keep our head above water is by choosing to believe healing can happen in any painful situation. This isn’t the power of positive thinking—this is hope, and hope is a powerful antidote.

When life gets really hard, I believe we keep our head above water by choosing to believe healing can happen.

Choosing to Believe Healing Can Happen

Sounds so basic, doesn’t it? And yet really, truly believing God can fix whatever is broken is one of the hardest things to do sometimes.

For example—

What’s the thing that’s bringing you the most pain right now?

broken relationship
personal rejection
ongoing trauma
deep disappointment

Do you really believe healing is possible?

I get it. It’s a risky question because hope is a risky business. But the answer makes all the difference.

You and I both know that life is full of seasons of shattering. I’ve experienced many of these seasons and am living in one right now. Last week, my beautiful 36-year-old sister-in-law learned she has Stage 3 cancer. This is not the story I want for her life.

I want her to be happy and healthy.
I want her biggest concern to be what she should make for dinner.

Watching my brother shave my sister-in-law’s head yesterday while our pack of 6 young kids played nearby felt like a gutting.

But for that situation and so many others in my life, I’m choosing to believe healing can happen. Which is the practical way I’m holding onto hope.

Holding onto hope

Here are 3 things I believe to be true about hope:

— Hope is learned.

Hope isn’t natural—it’s a determined decision.

So much more than a warm feeling of optimism, it’s a decided way of thinking. It doesn’t deny reality, but it always acknowledges the object of our security in the same breath:

Yes, my sister-in-law has cancer, but God hasn’t been taken by surprise.
Yes, I’ve been rejected by people I should have been able to trust, but God will always be faithful.
And yes, my child has a hard story of origin, but God is Father to the fatherless.

If I’m going to hold on to hope, I better be certain where I’m placing my hope.

For me, my hope is in God Who has always met me in the most devastating places.

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in Him” (Lamentations 3:24).

— Hope feels impossibly vulnerable.

One reason we may be tempted to stop hoping is because we’re worried we won’t receive the thing we hope for. And one of the hardest things to tolerate is deep disappointment.

I love both/and scenarios:

Joy and grief can co-exist.
Life can be good and hard.
I can be present here on earth and long for heaven.

But here’s the thing. I don’t believe we can hope and despair. In fact, I believe hope is the antidote to despair. It’s one or the other.

— Hope is an inside job.

You and I can’t just sit and wait for our feelings to change. Even as our hearts ache for things to be made right, we can choose to believe that God is good and that He hasn’t abandoned us.

You and I weren’t made to carry the sorrows of this world. Only God can do that.

And so, Friend, I leave you with Romans 15:13—

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

Take or leave these random thoughts, and let’s keep showing up.