Having Hope

                I have been on a long and winding road for some years trying to find identification and treatment for a set of symptoms including muscle and joint pain, stiffness and fatigue.  There have been numerous rounds of physical therapy, blood work, scans and doctor visits.  Just this past week, I met with yet another specialist, a hematologist, after a blood test result was way out of the normal range.  After sharing some information related to the blood test, this new doctor said for now she had “more questions than answers,” thus moving on to the need for further testing.  But then she said something that seemed to want to check out my “hope” amidst all of this.  My quick and direct reply was, “I have hope,” to which she added, “That is good.”

               What she didn’t ask and I didn’t offer was exactly what this hope that I have is or where it comes from.  Mitt Romney spoke of “binders full of women.”  Well, I have binders full of hope, God-given hope and faith—not the actual substance of hope but the bits and pieces recording scriptures, hymn and song lyrics, striking phrases from sermons, teaching and motivational stories, that I have written down in binders dating back to at least 2009.  I have written them down to have a record I can look back to at times, but perhaps more so to aid the process that somehow turns these gleanings into spiritual manna God seems to want to write on our hearts when we seek Him.    

               Almost 40 years ago now, I became ill with what seemed like the flu with the complication of pericarditis, an inflammation of the sack around the heart.  After some weeks of getting a little better only to feel sick again, I went to the hospital for a week’s worth of tests.  Only one which my doctor referred to as a “red herring” (a term I had previously been unfamiliar with) showed a positive reading, and this blood test was to be repeated in a couple weeks.   The second test also showed positive, and the antibiotic to treat paratyphoid (what? you might be asking) got me headed more steadily on the road to improvement. 

               It was during this frustrating and scary period that an English teacher I had worked with at Normandy High School encouraged me to read my Bible a little differently than I had thought of it before.  She pointed me more specifically to Jesus and to this written word as a present day opportunity for God to “speak” to me, personally.  Even more unusual, she suggested that I underline any passages that really caught my attention and ministered God’s comfort and hope to me as I read them.  And thus began a discovery of the very real and ageless work of God and His Holy Spirit for those who seek Him in any day to build in us the spiritual wisdom, insight, and hope, all of which marvelously create that wonderful gift of faith, even the kind that moves mountains of difficulty.

               One of the benefits I have come to appreciate about reading and absorbing the stories and teaching of the scriptures, Old and New Testaments alike, is what we can learn about God and about living a life of faith by the power that God can supply.  For example, David, the young shepherd boy, had learned how God’s name and power could be his help against beasts attacking his sheep.  That same God could help him win a confrontation with a huge giant that experienced and well-armed men were intimidated by.  Thousands of hungry people were fed from the scraps of a young boy’s lunch because Jesus knew what His father could do.  Desperate, sick people came to Jesus and he opened blind eyes and cleansed lepers from the dreadful effects of their disease.

               Jesus told His disciples that it was to their advantage that He would be going away.  In John 14, He talked about how the Father would send the Helper, the Holy Spirit, who would teach them all things and “bring to your (their) remembrance all things” that He had told them.  It is quite remarkable how this Holy Spirit, the living presence of God within us, can bring to mind a verse, a hymn lyric, a strong Biblical promise that some time previously we have read or heard.

               One of the times God brought “back to my remembrance” something meaningful I had read happened about 8 years ago.  I was a little fearful about an upcoming change involving where one of our children would attend graduate school.  You know how those “what if” chains can get started in our mental musings.  But seemingly out of nowhere, this line kept coming to my mind, something about not forgetting the “possibilities born of faith.”  This didn’t seem to match any scriptures I could think of, but the magic of Google identified the source to be a prayer penned by Mother Theresa.  “May you never forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.”  Hope and peace from God to my listening and needy heart, words from a prayer I had read in an email but had forgotten about.

               I do have hope, fed and fueled each day by the fresh living water God will bring to us when we look to Him, when we set out expectations in what He promises and only He can give.