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It was certainly not a conscience decision. I did not cognitively decide that I was giving up, sealing off my heart, protectively refusing to hope and dream. In fact, I did not even really realize it was happening.
However, rather than bravely and courageously persevering over the course of disappointments - I DID indeed seal off my heart. I built a wall of "protection" brick by brick, disappointment by disappointment. Though it felt safer to have no expectations, no dreams - in essence to stop trying - it was not.
Truth be told, deciding to hope is refusing to allow God in.
If He is the God of Hope and I refuse to hope, I refuse God.
Looking back, I can see it. The more I sealed myself off from hope, the more I sealed myself off from God.
Prayer was more like going through the motions than really sharing my heart.
Bible reading and study were sporadic and distant.
I chose silence over songs of praise.
As I continued to unknowingly push God away, He felt more and more distant.
Fear, ambivalence, loss if identity, and confusion all crept in. And they grew and grew and grew.
I honestly did not realize just how far I had drifted away from God. I just knew I was tired, frustrated, struggling to discern His plan, lonely. . .
Thankfully, thankfully, thankfully, thankfully He pursued me.
How crazy is the love of God? I wander and He, the Holy One, pursues me.
He lead me to a Bible study, at a strange church, with a group of women I have never met. I don't do things like that - but I was desperate. I was scared, lost, and hopeless enough to try anything. I expected this to be a large study with many women. I expected to be able to be lost in the crowd, blend in, be anonymous.
I was wrong.
The study was small and intimate - 8 women. They allowed me to be anonymous, yet they patiently and lovingly drew me out.
The study had daily homework. The rule-follower in me "had" to do it daily. This restored a habit of daily Bible study. It was done out of pure duty at first, but slowly. . . slowly my heart began to soften. It began to be a time I looked toward with anticipation. Spending time with God began to be meaningful again.
He still felt distant.
I still felt confused - but I began to feel just the tiniest bit open again. My heart began to seek Him rather than run from Him.
This study ended, and I began another. On my own this time, I started and finished a one month devotional. I started to feel God drawing closer - or me drawing close to Him?
Verses started to stir in my soul.
I began a second devotional. This one requires daily prayer journaling. I have been setting my alarm daily and wake up very early, yet expectantly, sincerely looking forward to beginning each day with Him.
I feel my heart changing, coming alive again. I am starting to feel hopeful. I am beginning to dream. TO DREAM. To consider options, joyful, exciting options for my personal future. To believe that God may have more than duty for me, but hope and joy as well.
But it is choice.
I have to carefully and consciously choose to hope in Him.
It is not my knee-jerk, though it once was.
In fact last week, when I received some hopeful news, I realized just how unnatural hoping has become. When I received this hopeful news, my heart shut down. Instead of feeling anticipation, I felt dread. My whole spirit became poised for disappointment, rather than excitedly awaiting goodness.
In that moment, I felt Him whisper, "What are you going to do? Can you be courageous? Can you choose to hope and trust in me?"
It brought me to tears. (Which is not that unusual. Everything makes me cry this pregnancy!)
Could I be courageous enough to hope? Can I choose moment by moment to place my wholehearted trust in Him? Can I open my heart? Can I live with my spirit alive, expectant - risking disappointment - yet trusting that He can and will make all things beautiful in His time?
You know what?
I can.
I can choose hope. I can choose trust. I can choose joy.
It IS scary. It IS hard. But the alternative is harder. Life alone, sealed off, walled in feels safe. To expect nothing means you feel nothing. . . nothing. . . nothing! A life of nothing, is just that NOTHING!
And we were all created for so much more than that.
To be fully alive means I must take risks - and there is NO ONE more worthy of risking at all for than the One who gave it all for me.
So - I vow to continue to choose hope. One moment, one prayer, one thought at a time - believing that my God of Hope WILL fill me with great joy and peace as I trust in Him.
