Hoping in God Alone

It's been a hard couple of days for me.  One of those stretches where babies and pregnant bellies and passing families with 3 kids open up a pit in my stomach, and I think I'm going to get sucked inside a vortex of grief.  I don't like these days.  They are days that challenge my dependence on God, my trust in His unwavering goodness, and my patience with His ways and timing.  They are days when all I really want to do is climb in bed, cry, and sleep.  Thankfully, they are no longer normal days for me, but they sure sting when they come.  It's been awhile since I've had a day as hollow feeling as this one.  I had forgotten how bottomless they feel and just how bad they are. 

This morning after I got out of the shower, I was remembering the hours after Samuel first died.  I remembered how we finally walked away from his body and went to the sleep pods to collect our stuff.  We had gotten a wagon while at Samuel's dock to put all his stuff in as well as the plethora of grief material the hospital brought us shortly after he died.  I remembered walking down that long hallway to the sleeping area, pulling the wagon and being numb and in a daze and mostly feeling lost and confused and so, so heavy-hearted.  For some reason this morning I thought of the woman's face who ran that area of the hospital.  She had seen us everyday for 9 days -- asking for a lottery number for the rooms, checking if we got one, putting our stuff in a room, dragging it back out the next morning.  She knew us a little, and as we walked toward her area, she was standing at her desk with tears in her eyes.  For some reason, the picture of that made me break down sobbing in the bathroom.  I am often surprised by what elicits tears these days.

I'm learning that much of my hope lately seems to be on a picture of our future in this life.  My better days are when I think our future looks promising, even though it doesn't hold Samuel.  When I think God really might grant us more children who are healthy and well, I walk lighter and smile more easily.  But when something makes me doubt that vision of what's ahead, I find the ever-lapping waves of grief grow mighty and pull me under, and it takes me a few days to surface again. 

I have misplaced my hope.  I know in my head that true hope, hope that will definitely be satisfied, can only be found in Christ and His death and resurrection.  All others hopes are insufficient, bound to be disappointed in some facet, and distracting from the ultimate hope of Heaven and eternity with Christ.  But my heart seems to be lagging behind my head, still clinging to earthly hopes and still anchoring itself on temporal dreams.  I'm not sure how to redirect my heart to something that feels so far away when I am so hungry for God to satisfy my earthly dreams.  I guess recognizing the problem is a start.

When Samuel was in the hospital, a friend gave us a Matt Redman cd.  I didn't really listen to it and pay attention to the lyrics until January (probably my worst month of grief) when it was my turn at the wheel on our trip to Disney.  I was immediately drawn to one of the songs in particular, and when I'd go running (something I hate to do but it seemed to help with my anger), I would play this song over and over.  A few weeks ago, our church performed the same song on Easter, and then we sang it the following Sunday.  The words are relevant to my misplaced hope and the real, lasting hope of Christ.

"Who, oh Lord, could save themselves,
Their own soul could heal?
Our shame was deeper than the sea
Your grace is deeper still

Who, oh Lord, could save themselves,
Their own soul could heal?
Our shame was deeper than the sea
Your grace is deeper still

You alone can rescue, You alone can save
You alone can lift us from the grave
You came down to find us, led us out of death
To You alone belongs the highest praise

You, oh Lord, have made a way
The great divide You heal
For when our hearts were far away
Your love went further still
Yes, your love goes further still

You alone can rescue, You alone can save
You alone can lift us from the grave
You came down to find us, led us out of death
To You alone belongs the highest praise
To You alone belongs the highest praise
To You alone belongs the highest praise

We lift up our eyes, lift up our eyes
You’re the Giver of Life
We lift up our eyes, lift up our eyes
You’re the Giver of Life

You alone can rescue, You alone can save
You alone can lift us from the grave
You came down to find us, led us out of death
To You alone belongs the highest praise
To You alone belongs the highest praise
To You alone belongs the highest praise."


I keep finding such truth in "Who, oh Lord, could save themselves,/ Their own soul could heal?"  I am so glad that God is the giver of life, that He can lift us from the grave, that He alone can rescue, that He has led us out of death, and that He has made a way, the great divide He's healed.  He is the ONE in whom my hope should rest, regardless of circumstances, regardless of sorrow, regardless of grief.  To Him alone belongs the highest praise.  O, Lord, help me place my hope in You alone, and heal this soul that I cannot.  You deserve my praise, and I freely give it.  Thank You for rescuing me and for lifting Samuel from the grave.  Thank You that one day You will lift me too, and my hope will be satisfied.  Give me courage to hope in You and faith to trust You no matter what life holds.  Anchor me to You alone.  Amen.