Recovering Hope!

Recently, I've noticed a very welcome feeling. It's one of peace, but far more than simply the absence of that horrible, sinky feeling. I can feel HOPE again.

On the first Sunday of 2020, whilst massively struggling with feelings of hopelessness, I preached about hope (at Garstang Free Methodist Church). This was not me being fake! It was inspired by reading some verses about Jesus that got me thinking about hope as something other than just a feeling. Matthew 12:18‭-‬21 ends with the phrase, "in His name the nations will put their hope."

We can hope for many things: health, happiness, love, a holiday, a pay rise, reunion with loved ones. Often our feelings have no bearing at all on the likelihood of that hope being fulfilled, but hope, when applied, also amounts to trusting confidence. So if, even inadvertently, we put our hope in something, our feelings can take a dive when that thing doesn't materialise.

At this time I guess many of us can identify with the proverb that says, "hope deferred makes the heart sick" (Proverbs 13:12). I've found myself, at times, somewhat hoping in various things: antibody tests brought no change to social distancing, restrictions relaxed and then tightened again, 30 minute Covid tests still don't free us to live any differently. Even the much anticipated vaccines are surrounded by questions about immunity, transmission, and effectiveness against multiple new variants. Of course, I long for workable solutions, and fully cooperate with their implementation, but I'm seeking not to hope in them.

However, I do once again have tangible hope, which I suspect I previously took for granted. Having taken a backward step when the first lockdown hit, it may seem surprising to be significantly better than I was before it! Depression, though, is not really based upon circumstances. In my experience, it hooked onto particular issues, but 'solving' those—without working through what was going on inside of me—would not have lifted the fog. If diagnosed with a broken bone, I would have received painkillers, possibly surgery, and advised how best to rest and exercise the healing tissues. As a nurse, when post-op patients are reluctant to take medication, I gently tell them, "You don't normally take painkillers, but neither are you usually recovering from a joint replacement!" So, supported by an excellent GP, I accepted anti-depressants and began counselling and CBT, through which I have learnt so much about myself, and how to combat the illness.

I've written quite a lot in these blog posts so far, about hoping in—that is, putting trusting confidence in—God. This is based on faith in God's self-revelation through Jesus: written of in the Bible, encountered in personal experience, displayed in creation, and affirmed by the (albeit very imperfect) life and witness of the church. I'm learning that when feelings fail to line up with the wonder of all that, I am still held by God's grace and love. Now increasingly also feeling everyday hope for tomorrow, I'm doubly thankful.

Hope is indeed so much more than a feeling. It's an active orientation, a decisive focus on something good to come. Perhaps this is precisely why we struggle so when lacking the sense of it. It also matters, though, that what we ultimately hope in is real, and sure, and certain not to disappoint.⬦

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