Cling to Christ
In Christ alone my hope is found . . .
So begins one of my favorite worship songs. I love the sweeping melody and poignant lyrics. As I stand in church on Sunday morning, the words filling my heart, their truth reverberating through my soul, if someone asked if my hope was found in Christ alone, I would answer with a resounding yes.
But then Monday comes. The endless to-do list. The long-anticipated yes that instead arrives as a no. Ongoing health issues sapping my strength. Uncertainties over the future.
And in reality, my hope is parched, resembling paper-thin ashes far more than a solid foundation. The dailyness of life has a way of peeling away the Sunday-morning sparkle, revealing the painful truth of my own weakness.
I want to say that my hope is found in Christ, but in reality, it’s more like Christ . . . and a productive workday. Christ . . . and peace at home. Christ . . . and a healthy body. Christ . . . and financial security. Christ . . . and a bright future.
When earthly realities fail to line up with my vision (which—let’s face it—is most of the time for all of us), I have two choices. I can let rejection, pain, and disappointment suck my joy and steal my peace. Or I can realize the fragility of where I’ve placed my hope for what it is. Fragility.
We’re guaranteed only one certainty on this earth. And it isn’t comfort. Nor happiness. Nor safety. It’s not a perfect job or a healthy body, a loving family or a secure bank account. The Christian life isn’t a buffet where we can pick and choose the dishes handed to us.
Christ is our one solidarity. Our sole guarantee. As the song says, he is “this cornerstone, this solid ground, my comforter, my all in all.” But when we let our hope rest in external circumstances, we’re often left burned and disappointed. Many of us stay that way, the weight of failed dreams and past and present pain miring us in a pit we never climb out of. At first, we might try to take a step or two, but all too soon, it becomes easier to settle into the worn-in ruts created by our own heartache. We cease to remember joy, our hope gone from brittle, to nonexistent. I’ve felt it. You likely have too.
Delving into the lives of Christians who have come before, who lived out their faith in a hard, messy world encourages my heart. Studying believers from the past feels like a friend coming alongside me and placing a hand on my shoulder, whispering, I’ve been there too.
Sophie Scholl, a woman who lived in Nazi Germany, is one of those who have been there too. During the dark days of World War II, she became a founding member of an underground resistance group, working alongside other students at the University of Munich to write and distribute leaflets calling on German citizens to resist. Throughout that time, Sophie grappled with the depth of her devotion to Christ, wondering why she craved God’s presence yet often failed to sense it. In a letter she wrote only a few months before she was arrested and executed by the Nazi government for her involvement in the resistance, she penned these words:
I shall cling to the rope God has thrown me in Jesus Christ, even if my numb hands can no longer feel it.
Does life feel like a storm, smacking you with waves, tossing you against jagged rocks and leaving you battered and broken? Are your hands numb from the piercing cold of circumstances?
Cling to Christ.
Not to Christ and earthly security. Not to Christ and physical well-being. Not to Christ and a life that checks all the boxes on your list of dreams.
Cling to Christ alone.
Come to him with your numb hands, raw imperfections, and battered expectations. Because when trials thrust us into the fire and test the substance of our hope, he is the only solid ground we can stand on with certainty. When life crumbles, he alone is the cornerstone who will remain.
But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in Him.” (Lam. 3: 21-24)
is the Christy Award-winning and ECPA best-selling author of over a dozen novels and novellas including Within These Walls of Sorrow: A Novel of WWII Poland, The White Rose Resists: A Novel of the German Students Who Defied Hitler and My Dearest Dietrich: A Novel of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Lost Love. She lives in Michigan with her family. Find her online at www.amandabarratt.net.
Photograph © Kawê Rodrigues, used with permission
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