“My spirit
is broken, my days are extinct,
the grave
is ready for me.
Surely
there are mockers around me,
and my eye
dwells on their provocation.”
~Job 17:1-2 (NRSV)
The sentiment in much of Job is
chilling. Either Job is disconsolate or each of his three ‘friends’ is coarse
and critical. But there is relevance in the circumstance of our inconsolable
grief.
There are times in all our lives
where we, for a moment or an entire season, slide over the cliff and into a
cavernous abyss; a place where no consolation may be found. Here we are alone.
Even with knowledge of God we feel alone. But then a great irony makes its way
into our psyches.
To be found alone is to be found
never more receptive to God.
To be lost to all hope avails us
to the only hope: God.
When Death Becomes Life
These are difficult concepts for
the person not in pain. Having endured a memorable grief we never quite forget
that in death—the spiritual form—is the real basis for life.
It is almost as if we need to get
to a point of being ready to give up, where our prayers have failed abysmally,
and all light within us has been extinguished, to when God comes dramatically
into the scene. Reaching down into our spirits and grabbing our hearts, the
Lord rallies our hope. We may not know it in the instant, or in the hour.
Usually it occurs, early in the morning, in the cool light of day, and a
strange peace prevails which is completely inexplicable. By an unpretentious faith
it arrived.
Out of the depths of death, where
we finally had no conscious reason to live, out of it God unveils life. Yet
nothing has changed. Nothing in our circumstance has altered.
But our outlook, which is now never
more pliable to truth, can at last stand the raw truth.
Trusting in an Invisible Hope
When all we have is what we feel
we need to learn to trust it.
When everything in life has turned
to mud, yet we know God is with us by the serenity we feel, we trust it. It is
hope we enjoy when nothing else can be enjoyed; it is an invisible gift. We
don’t look that gift horse in the mouth. We try to be thankful. And
thankfulness is easier than we think because this invisible hope is much more
than we expected.
This invisible hope may seem like
nothing much to an external observer; but it is life to us. It is the very
thread our lives are hanging by. Without this invisible hope, really, we would
be nothing.
And this invisible hope is enough
for us. Somehow we believe we are on the right track, and somehow we believe
everything will be okay. This hope is enough. It is sufficient.
© 2012 S. J. Wickham.
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