What Hope Can Do

Just a few months ago, my dear friend passed away after a relatively short illness. It has depleted my heart in ways I didn’t expect. I’ve felt loss before, but this ache is different, and although I hold the hands of others through pain, I didn’t expect to respond the way I have. The layers of emotions left to sort out are piled high, my soul is drained, and my body feels weak.

Sherry had the gift of hospitality, inviting everyone into her home and serving delicious meals with a side of laughter and honest conversation. She didn’t want a traditional memorial or what she referred to as “a big hullabaloo.” In lieu of a formal service, we hosted an open house to encourage friends to drop in to tell stories, comfort the family, and pay their respects. The family requested my help arranging the food. Her daughters and I pulled out beautiful serving trays from the closet, and my husband brewed pots of coffee to welcome her guests.

As I was standing in the middle of the kitchen halfway through the open house, Sherry’s niece Tiffany leaned over and said, “Jemelene, you need to breathe.”

Tiffany is only a few months away from being certified as a midwife. She recognized my stress from across the room. I had become so consumed with making sure every platter was full that the tension in my body began to take over. She encouraged me to sit down for a few minutes and take in the moment for myself. On a couch, in the middle of a crowded room, I suddenly felt alone.

As I sat quieting my soul, I found the tender places I’d been trying to avoid, aware of pain where my heart was broken. Keeping busy didn’t resolve the hurt; it was a distraction for only a short time. Like when the anesthesia wears off after surgery, you become more aware of the wound as you experience the pain.

We aren’t meant to remain numb. We were made to feel what is happening on the inside. In our bodies, pain tells us when we’re pushing too hard or causing damage. It also tells the story of what’s already happened. A wound is supposed to heal, to become a scar, but the story behind it will always remain. Some hurts are lessons and others are great love stories. We learn to live, learn to love, or learn to do both.

On that difficult day, as I allowed myself to be aware of the hardest emotions, I began to experience peace. Peace is the beautiful undercurrent that flows out of hope. Believers were inspired when they read what we now know as Romans 15:13 in Paul’s letter to the church: “Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you will abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (NASB). Joy and peace come through hope and from the God of hope.

A week later, as I sat catching up with a trusted friend, I posed the question, “If you were to sum up the stories of my life, what word would you choose?” She replied, “Hope. I’ve watched you walk through hard things while clinging to Christ to make you stronger. You’ve stayed steady in your faith because you know you have hope.”

It hasn’t been that way from the beginning. As a young adult, I had crippling depression. It went so deep I found myself on the floor of an apartment with pills in my hand. Whenever I look back at what pulled me out, I see it was the tiniest glimmer of hope that grew as my faith took deeper root. As my parents’ faith became my own, I began to know the love of my Creator.

Hope was my pen name in my early days of blogging. Back then I was uncomfortable putting my real name out there. My blog was titled Finding Hope. The journey was to find hope and put me on a trajectory to find my destiny in the process. I keep finding my way back to the “God of hope,” where the journey brings me to peace, joy, and an abundance of hope.

As a Christ follower, I know someday I’ll be reunited with those who passed away before me. It brings us comfort to look forward to the future and the day we will no longer be separated as we sit at the feet of Christ. The sweeter news is this: I have hope now. The promise of those hurting, hollow spaces being filled with peace and joy from the God of hope grows my faith.

Jemelene Wilson is a passionate storyteller who writes of faith, hope, love, and food. She’s madly in love with her pastor husband and mama bear to two daughters. Grace is a fairly new concept she is exploring with her life and words. Mama Jem believes we should live gently and love passionately. You can find more of her writing at jemelene.com.

Photograph © Brandon Lopez, used with permission