The Hard And The Hope
What do you do when life throws another hard thing at you—and another, and another—while you’re still trying to work through the hardest thing?
These other hard things, they aren’t really that hard, respectively. But currently they sure do feel like it. They tend to compile on top of one another, adding to your current pain and suffering which is somehow already magnified more than you thought possible, causing you to feel them even more heavily.
Regardless of which hard thing you focus on, the pain is still there, strong as ever. It becomes difficult to navigate what now feels like a minefield in your mind.
What should be a safe space is now boobytrapped with thoughts that could explode at any moment, sending you into a toxic thought spiral, or pressing you towards a complete burst—into anger or sadness or tears.
I’m reminded today of Job. (Yes I know it’s a little extreme, maybe even dramatic, to compare oneself to Job. But if I’m being honest, it has been a rough few days, and I’m starting to resonate with him more and more.)
Job had everything taken away from him. He experienced the most pain and suffering. And he had many moments of very human reactions to this pain and loss. He was sad and angry and questioned God, wondering why and how could all of this happen to him. But through it all he was faithful to the Lord.
The enemy tried his very best to cause Job to turn away, but he did not succeed. In the end, Job said to God, “ I know you can do anything… I had only heard about you before, but now I have seen you… I repent.”
Even Job, in his despair, was reminded of who God is. God is good. God is love. God is mighty and sovereign, and truly wants what’s best for us. He is my shelter, my comfort, my peace, my joy, my provider, my father, my friend.
The only thing I know to do in these moments is meditate on this. As I read Job’s story, and I write these words, I find a glimmer of hope amongst what feels like a layer of ash and soot covering every inch of my life.
Some days, that little glimmer is all I have to hang on to. And today, it’s all I need.