The very idea of hope exhausts me. Hoping for better days? It seems to require so much energy, all that straining of the eyes for some light in the darkness. When so much bad has happened, when the days are a never-ending string of fresh disappointments, hope seems like a luxury. When nothing changes, hope seems to be making a fool out of me. Hope has worn me out.
And yet, I have to keep on hoping. I can’t see change coming, but I know better.
Deep down in the broken places, I know I know better.
“For behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and deep darkness the people; but the Lord will arise over you, and His glory will be seen upon you.” – Isaiah 60:2
Morning always follows night. It’s a fact; a glorious truth.
In “O Holy Night,” the line “for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn” is followed by “fall on your knees” for a reason, I think. I don’t know about you, but the idea of morn is enough to bowl me over. Oh, to be there now! In the light! How I hope for it, long for it, dream of it, strain towards it without seeing it.
God, I am worn out with hoping. Hoarse from crying, mourning, praying. Yet I look for Your morning. I wait with bated breath. Come quickly. Rise like the sun and wash over every hurting bit of me with Your loving warmth and kindness. Lift my spirit like only You can. Here in the darkness, my soul aches for You like it’s never ached before. But my eyes are open and searching for You. Appear. Oh, God, appear! I’m worn out. So unimaginably worn out. But I’ll rejoice, knowing that You’re coming, drawing near even as my body shudders beneath all the strains of all this waiting. In the seeming throes of death, I will sing Your praises, believing somehow I will make it… that someday I’ll know the reasons why.
“He uncovers deep things out of darkness, and brings the shadow of death to light.” – Job 12:22
I’ll rejoice. I’ll rejoice. I’ll rejoice. And I will hope. Despite it all, here in the gloom and darkness, I will hope in Your new and glorious morn.