When You Are Low on Hope

This was waiting in my e-mail box last night. As it has been a particularly trying week, I know that the timing is not a coincedence. Now I'm sure that I'm not the only person who's struggling, so I decided to pass these words of wisdom on to you.

When You Are Low on Hope
by Max Lucado

Water. All Noah can see is water. The evening sun sinks into it. The clouds are reflected in it. His boat is surrounded by it. Water. Water to the north. Water to the south. Water to the east. Water to the west. Water.
He sent a raven on a scouting mission; it never returned. He sent a dove. It came back shivering and spent, having found no place to roost. Then, just this morning, he tried again. With a prayer he let it go and watched until the bird was no bigger than a speck on a window.
All day he looked for the dove’s return.
Now the sun is setting, and the sky is darkening, and he has come to look one final time, but all he sees is water. Water to the north. Water to the south. Water to the east. Water to the …
You know the feeling. You have stood where Noah stood. You’ve known your share of floods. Flooded by sorrow at the cemetery, stress at the office, anger at the disability in your body or the inability of your spouse. You’ve seen the floodwater rise, and you’ve likely seen the sun set on your hopes as well. You’ve been on Noah’s boat.
And you’ve needed what Noah needed; you’ve needed some hope. You’re not asking for a helicopter rescue, but the sound of one would be nice. Hope doesn’t promise an instant solution but rather the possibility of an eventual one. Sometimes all we need is a little hope.
That’s all Noah needed. And that’s all Noah received.
Here is how the Bible describes the moment: “When the dove returned to him in the evening, there in its beak was a freshly plucked olive leaf!” (Gen. 8:11 NIV).
An olive leaf. Noah would have been happy to have the bird but to have the leaf! This leaf was more than foliage; this was promise. The bird brought more than a piece of a tree; it brought hope. For isn’t that what hope is? Hope is an olive leaf—evidence of dry land after a flood. Proof to the dreamer that dreaming is worth the risk.
Don’t we love the olive leaves of life? “It appears the cancer may be in remission.” “I can help you with those finances.” “We’ll get through this together.” What’s more, don’t we love the doves that bring them? Perhaps that’s the reason so many loved Jesus.
To all the Noahs of the world, to all who search the horizon for a fleck of hope, he proclaims, “Yes!” And he comes. He comes as a dove. He comes bearing fruit from a distant land, from our future home. He comes with a leaf of hope.
Have you received yours? Don’t think your ark is too isolated. Don’t think your flood is too wide. Receive his hope, won’t you? Receive it because you need it. Receive it so you can share it.
Love always hopes. “Love … bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Cor. 13:4–7 NKJV, emphasis mine).

From A Love Worth GivingCopyright (Thomas Nelson, 2002) Max Lucado

Last night, my sister and I saw a preview for the movie 2012. All I understood was that in December 2012, life as we know it is supposed to be over. New concept, I know. But the special effects of this preview were amazing as the foundation of Los Angeles (and I suppose the rest of the world) begins to buckle. Houses, buildings and bridges were folding over on themselves. Needless to say, it was a very intense preview. And quite fun to watch from the comfort of my recliner in my safe den. Isn't that why we enjoy scary and thrilling entertainment? While we sit comfortable and safe?

But what about when those devastating things happen to us? Much easier when it's fiction isn't it? Jesus' disciples lived through one of those events. Oh, it's easy, when we are sitting in our chairs to criticize them for not waiting three days. For believing that He was actually dead and that all their dreams and hopes were in the tomb with Him. See, we know the rest of the story, but they didn't. It hadn't happened yet and their world had been turned upside down. If you haven't lived through one or more of those moments, you are either very young or you aren't being completely truthful.

I call those moments, Bizarro World moments. When everything you believe and stand upon is suddenly the opposite. When red means go and green means stop. When he walks in and tells you that he doesn't love you. When you are no longer a valued employee and it's time for you to go. When your accountant informs you that you no longer have any money in the bank. When an obedient child has bad news for you. When your pastor decides to begin a new life with the organist. The equator is now the coldest place on earth and gravity no longer applies. And death would seem easier than living in the aftermath.

Did death on a Roman cross change the fact that Jesus was/is the Messiah? No, but it sure seemed that way for His followers. When we stand in the middle of rubble and death, is He still God? Does that verse in Jeremiah still apply? Can this be His plan? Who is He now? He is still God. He still loves us. He still has a plan. I know this because He has stayed by my side through destruction. He has stayed by my side when I have turned away from Him. He has stayed by my side when I shook my fists at Him. Stop looking at the destruction and death. Begin to look for Him. I promise you, He's by your side, too. Just waiting for you to turn to Him. And cry on His shoulder.