Shreds of Hope

Spiritual Lessons

Guest Writer Jonah Kolb shared this recently, and it was an encouragement to me and I wanted to share it with you.

 Shreds of Hope

  'I can of my own self do nothing…'
     John 5:30

  Have you ever looked up to heaven and cried out to God in desperation that you could not do it?
  I have. And we all need to at some time reach that point in our lives. But you know what the problem with that is? What gets in God's way in those times? Hope.
  Our last tattered shred of hope in ourselves and our own ability. I repeated those words over and over to God more times than I care to count, in despair, sorrow,  and even anger. It was my call of defeat. I wondered how much farther I had to fall, how much worse things would have to get for God to take a hand.
  My problem was hope. Self hope. While there remained that slim possibility that I can still do it, I am a prisoner of my own hope. I imagine myself hanging off the edge a cliff. I'm slipping slowly but surely, centimeter by centimeter toward the void. Dangling there by one hand I plead over and over for my Savior to reach down and save me. Patiently He is waiting for me, while I keep slowly sliding, trying to fight my losing battle. I beg Him to help, but I keep on digging my fingernails in. I suppress my feelings of betrayal as He seems to leave me there alone. I hang there by the last shreds of my strength saying I cannot do it, while all along He patiently waits for me to let go and drop into His hand.
  We petition him again and again, begging Him to reach down to our level from on high when in reality all we need to do is let go and fall to Him. We ask Him, then wait a moment and tighten up our belts and cling a little tighter. We forget that the way to the cross was not up, but down. Maybe you just need to stop losing and lose.
  That's how it happened for me. It was just one final straw,  insignificant really, but stacked up with all of it's kind, it was the knell of my defeat. Not in despair, but in quiet acceptance,  I said, 'I can't do it'. Not a flash of brilliant revelation, but just a simple understanding, as I finally realized that God wasn't the one that needed to be told, I was. I wasn't listening to my own voice. And it was as simple as that. That is is how 'I can't do it' went from my cry of despair to my shout of victory. It's my battle cry.
  Once it gets so far beyond the realm of human possibility it becomes easy. I have no choice but to leave it up to God, because I truly can't do it. And in belief in that simple statement is unbelievable relief.
  Do I still struggle. Yes. Do I stumble and fall. Yes. But sometimes in falling we fall into God's hand. I'm still learning. I'm such a work in progress and there is so that needs to be done in me, but I can move forward easier with that simple assurance in my heart that I can't do it.

  'Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me.
  'I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit, for without me ye can do nothing'
  John 15:4-5

  'The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, though wilt not despise.'
Psalm 51:17

Related Post:

A Prison of Hope

Peacefully Drowning

Spiritual Lessons

Peacefully Drowning

 

6:15 Am. I reach over and dismiss the alarm. Jumping out of bed I grab my Bible and rush through devotions. Personal, throbbing hurts to tend to – but there isn't time to think or write.

7:45 Am. I multi-task by cooking breakfast, getting dressed, taking out my seventeen different supplements for the day, and start the car so the windshield ice might melt. That's when I remember my heater and defroster won't work in the cold. I scrape away at the ice with my gloves while standing with snow in my boots, picking away at the unyielding ice. The sun is just coming over the mountain. I'm caught away in a tempest of thoughts. I have 100 things to do today...or was it 101? I know there was something else to remember... Oh yeah! Breakfast inside is burning!

8:00 Am. I'm supposed to be driving out the Hutto Highland gates right now. Instead, I'm scraping the bottom of a burnt pot. The second pot I've burned – in the last two days. Mom's threatened to buy me my own pots and pans. Abbie comes down stairs and demands that we play dolly. Plus she needs me to pour her milk. Beth has a math question and Jeremy is frustrated with penmanship. I go to rinse the pot and remember we ran out of water last night....and we don't have gasoline for the generator.

8:10 Am. I'm in the car driving out the gate. That's when I remember I left my lunch at the house.

8:45 AM I'm off the snowy mountain, wrapped in blankets and beanie and gloves, and on my way to work. Ponderay Lake is dark and choppy, fringed in powdery snow. I sometimes play music or listen to preaching or a book on CD, but my own mind is an overwhelming companion. It never pauses long enough for me to listen to anything else. Family difficulties weigh down. I ponder how to make more time. I feel like I'm drowning. But sometime God will stay the waves from crashing in on me....right?

5:00 PM. I'm locking up. There's still so much to do. My boss is on family leave and needs me here more than ever. Talked on the phone today with mom. She's doing worse. I still have groceries to get.

6:30 PM I'm home. I still have to make my own dinner even though the family is sitting down to theirs. I kick off my boots, set my things down in a chair and rush into the kitchen to prepare food.

8:00 PM I'm dead tired but there's dishes to do.

9:30 PM I sit in bed with jammies on and my diary on my lap. I want to recount the events of my day but I'm so tired. I wonder why life seems so bleak and purposeless and chaotic. I wonder why I feel sick and why I look sick. My health is deteriorating along with my sanity. Mid-sentence I remember I have forgotten to remove my nail polish... I stare down at my toes. I'm just too tired.

10:00 PM I run downstairs, heat my water bottle for my nightly castor oil pack. My parents are talking about life's hardships. Car broke down. Money can't be stretched any farther. Health issues. Complex relationships. I go to bed thinking of the full day of work I will have tomorrow. Dad needs help at work. How to put my life on hold? I have started going to bed later and later ... I fall asleep with the thought that I have no other choice than to get up early the next morning.

Somewhere along life I stopped.

Was God judging me? Had I done something wrong? Or maybe He was teaching me....something? That's when I decided I didn't need to know. And I was just going to trust Him. Even if He never made the continual crashing waves stop. Even if He didn't come to my rescue and call “Peace be Still”. I was drowning, but from now on, I decided I was going to peacefully drown. And it happened.

6:15 Am. I reach over and dismiss the alarm. Jumping out of bed I grab my Bible. I only have a little time for devotions. I simply tell God what hurts. I don't have time to write it out. I simply tell Him.

7:45 Am I multi-task by cooking breakfast, getting dressed, taking out my seventeen different supplements for the day, and start the car. I remember my heater and defrost doesn't work in the cold. I scrape away at the ice. The sun is just coming over the mountain. My storm of thoughts comes to take over, but I take the time to breathe in the cold air and look at the sunrise. God is good. He gave me today. And somewhere He mentions that His mercies are new every morning. Thank God for mornings. Oh yeah! Breakfast inside is burning!

8:00 Am. I'm supposed to be driving out the Hutto Highland gates right now. Instead, I'm scraping the bottom of a burnt pot. The third pot I've burned this week. Maybe Mom will buy me my own pots and pans. Abbie comes down stairs and demands that we play dolly. As I pour her milk for her cereal I tell her how much I would love to play with her. Maybe after work we will play dollies in bed. Beth has a math question. I show her her mistake. Jeremy is frustrated with penmanship. I let him know he has beautiful penmanship, and sometime this evening I will help him. I go to rinse the pot and I am thankful we have water.

8:10 Am. I'm in the car driving out the gate. That's when I remember I left my lunch at the house.

8:45 AM I'm off the snowy mountain, wrapped in blankets and beanie and gloves, and on my way to work. Ponderay Lake is dark and choppy ...and beautiful. The sun casts pink highlights and the border of trees stand like ancient white towers. I live in a picture-perfect place. My mind is an overwhelming companion, reminding me of my “to do list”. I decide to sing. I sing to God, quietly and sincerely and without talent. It really doesn't matter: it's just us. I sing about my family difficulties. And my lack of time. And how I feel like I'm drowning. I tell Him I'm going to drown peacefully, even if it doesn't feel peaceful. I realize it's not just me and my mind today...I have a better companion.

5:00 PM. I'm locking up. There's still so much to do. Talked on the phone today with mom. She's doing worse. I still have groceries to get.

6:30 PM I'm home. I still have to make my own dinner even though the family is sitting down to theirs. I kick off my boots, set my things down in a chair and rush into the kitchen to prepare food.

8:00 PM I'm dead tired but there's dishes to do. I find time to play a ten minute round of dollies and to talk to Beth and Jeremy.

9:30 PM I sit in bed with jammies on and my diary on my lap. I'm so tired. I know why I feel sick and why I look sick. My health is deteriorating because I was so desperately fighting the waves. Mid-sentence I stare down at my toes. I'm still just too tired. But it's okay.

10:00 PM I run downstairs, heat my water bottle for my nightly castor oil pack. My parents are talking about life's hardships. Car can't be fixed. Money can't be stretched any father. Health issues. Complex relationships. I go to bed thinking of the full day of work I will have tomorrow. Dad needs help at work. Life can't be put on hold. This IS life. I crawl into bed and turn off my lamp. So this is what it feels like to drown peacefully. My circumstances haven't changed, but instead of fighting I'm at peace with it all. Morning will come, all too quickly, but now I didn't dread it so much.