What it looks like to fight for hope.

Trusting God is a lot easier when everything is going right. It’s a lot harder when nothing is working the way you planned.

For awhile now, I’ve felt like I haven’t been transparent in these posts. I haven’t been honest with you about what’s really going on behind the pretty filters of a photo, or what’s beyond some tips on a college topic.

Proverbs 24:14 says:

“Know also that wisdom is like honey for you: If you find it, there is a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off.”

Yes, this website is supposed to be a source of encouragement. But most importantly, it should be a place of wisdom. And wisdom rarely comes from easy, fun places. We likely become the most wise when we’ve gotten through the darkest seasons.

Not to say that speaking truth about college and makeup tips is a bad thing, but it is a bad thing to not be transparent about the hard stuff. You can’t teach what you don’t know. And right now, there’s a lot I don’t know.

I’ve realized that’s okay, because that space of vulnerability and authenticity needs to be shared, just as much as being on the side of victory. There is wisdom even in the mess.

There is wisdom even in the mess.

What kind of writer would I be if I wasn’t honest about what was really happening in my life? Or what encourager would I be if I never admitted that I needed to be encouraged, too? And even so, what kind of Christian would I be if I said that I have it all figured out, but all y’all need to get your sh*t together? I mean c’mon.

Right now, I’m in what you would call a “storm”. A space where I have been rocked more than ever before, rocked by disappointment, hurt, worry and confusion. I’ve been trying to cling to the lifeboat, but it’s not easy. I haven’t quite gotten on land. It’s been like that for quite some time now.

The storm has blocked my hope for the future. It looks dark, misty, it doesn’t look fun or joyful or good. Because good things have been taken away, I now have no idea what’s coming. And that’s an overwhelming feeling.

This past week, I barely left my bed. I hit a low. Rock bottom. And I haven’t felt the feelings I felt this past week for a very, very long time. To be honest with you, they felt foreign and weird, and I didn’t know what to do. All I did was cry and cry (more like wailing, if we are being completely transparent today).

I had hit rock bottom.

Hope was a foreign concept to me. It’s hard for me to admit this, because I like to be the hopeful one, the one who has her life together, the one who is excited about what’s to come. I always thought rock bottom happened to other people, but me? Nope, I thought I was too strong for that.

But none of us are exempt from rock bottom.

So, here’s why I’m finding it hard to trust God.

In short, and not to get too detailed – a relationship ended that I thought would last forever. Just gone. So I’m in a grieving process with that thing that I felt was the forever thing.

On another end, I have been discouraged about my future. It’s hard not knowing where I’m going to be next summer, and it’s even harder to see the shut doors. Rejection from publishers and people have stung deep. I’ve been stuck in the lies – that I’m never going to achieve any of my dreams, that even trying was a lost cause, that this whole thing is impossible.

And on ANOTHER end, somebody I love and care about deeply is going through a crap time. I pray that this person’s life will improve just a little bit, but time and time again bad things are happening. It’s just not getting better.

And lastly, my grades are hitting the tank. What a great cherry on top.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been the victim. My friend Caroline on a recent podcast said “I’m a survivor, not a victim.” I thought she was saying that for sexual assault survivors, and from her personal experience. But really, my friend was speaking truth over me.

You can either be a survivor, or you can be a victim.

You see, I’ve been wallowing like it was my friggin job. I’ve been acting like God doesn’t have a plan for me. I’ve been looking at my circumstances and going, wow, this will never get better. God must have forgotten about me. God must not be good. My dreams will never work out. I made a mistake. He isn’t listening. He isn’t by my side. I’m stupid for trying. He doesn’t care. On and on and on, it’s like a train that just keeps rolling, like wheels that just keep turning. The thoughts swirl and swirl, until suddenly, I believe them.

The negativity ruled my life, until I literally just couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t get through the day. I couldn’t keep painting on the mask of togetherness.

But it was in this valley of hopelessness, it was in the pit, that I heard a small voice that said:

“The storm will not engulf you.”

This storm was happening all around me, overwhelming me, and I thought I was going down. But, what I needed to know is that storm did not have the power to rule my life. The storm would not win, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. There are seasons of storms and there are seasons of stillness – and this too shall pass.

The storm is just a season.

I realized that sulking will not get you out of the storm. What gets you out of the pit is holding on to the One who can get you out of it. I have a refuge – a safe place, a rock, a firm foundation. An anchor in the wind.

And even though I ignored this truth and let the lies consume me, the Lord kept drawing nearer to me, showing me that he’s worthy of this kind of role in my life. Giving me a lifeboat to lean on, to catch my breathe, to survive. He’s giving me a breather from all the disappointment and failure, and he’s saying, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened. I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

He protects me because he loves me, and he protects you because he has a wonderful plan for you.

If you’re still waking up in the morning, there is still goodness out there for you. Remember that.

There will be a time in your life when you need to go into survival mode. Like if you’re on a ship, and the waves are crashing against you, and you feel like you’re going down.

But if you had a boat that you knew would stay sturdy in the wind, why the heck would you try to SWIM on your own? Why not get your ass on that boat, hold on tight, and survive?

This is how I see it. We can either drown in our sorrows. Or, we can hold tightly to the one who gives us hope.

Here’s the truth:

He will never lead us down the wrong path (Psalm 37:23), and he’s also never going to leave us or forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:6).

God has a good plan for our lives, even when the waves are blocking the destination (Jeremiah 29:11).

The Lord supplies all our needs, even when we can’t see it (2 Corinthians 9:8).

He allows everything to work for the good (Romans 8:28).

He is for us, not against us (Romans 8:31).

We have a choice. To believe that he’s got us, that he will carry us to the other side with his love and kindness. To believe that this season will not be wasted. And to believe in the craziest, most irrational concept when everything is hitting the fan: to believe in hope.

Or, we can let the storm win. We can throw in the towel, and begin our dramatic soap opera show where you’re all woe is me. And that does not sound too fun to me.

The other day I came across a beautiful poem that I would like to share with you:

“In the bitter waves of woe,

Beaten and tossed about

By the sullen winds that blow

From the desolate shores of doubt.

Where the anchors that faith has cast

And dragging in the gale

I am quietly holding fast,

To the things that cannot fail.”

– Holding, Washington Gladden

Friend, I KNOW we can survive. I believe that because Jesus Christ gives us the strength to. Not when life is looking great, but when our circumstances look hopeless. He came to give us the hope we are so yearning for.

And what if this hope is not in changed circumstances? What if, by a bizarre chance, everything we need is already in Him? It is beautiful to find that when you’re stripped of everything you once loved, you can find all of that love and dependence and intimacy in one place. That, I think, is why he takes things away. Because we need to be reminded that He, in all his being, has everything we need.

So stick to hope. Hold on to the anchor. Because the winds will blow, and the ship will feel like it’s going down. But you can rest assured that you have a firm, mighty warrior on your side. And he will not let you down.

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1