When Life’s Hurts Press {Too} Real


spend my days pushing Hope. With friends who have lost jobs, who battle eating disorders, who are in rotten relationships, I listen hard and nod understandingly—I know the pain a little too well. As we sit square in life’s messiness, I’m generous with my Hope as I gently nudge them to be brave in the battle. And with friends who are ready to dream big, pursue their passion, I spur them forward with Hope as our point Man.

Most days I love living in the fullness of God’s plan for my life. But there are those days when hope runs thin, when it’s a hard sell.

Last week, I walked one of those days. {Well, I sort of limped through it.} I simply didn’t want to bring my heart new to the day. Too tender it was, longing to stay tucked behind some carefully-constructed mask, behind those safe words—the nice ones that don’t hold full truth.

I couldn’t risk; the potential for pain was far too great. In spite of the ones who are encouraged, the ones helped through their pain, there are some who strike back, the hurting ones who don’t always know what to do with their lingering pain so they project it onto my Hope. The ones who temporarily overwhelm my faith that they can make it through if they choose. Those are the ones who trigger my silence.

Without mining the depths of my story, they label me Polly-anna and condemn my Hope. They nurture these hidden fragments of self-doubt, the ones that push hard against Truth at every opportunity—my real reals apparently stirring something in them that they have pushed hard to avoid.

There are those who cry loudly for you to be authentic, but then they run when you are.

Can I still trust you, Lord, when disappointments and doubts soak me clean through? How do I bring my heart fresh and real again today, the way You have taught me to? How do I share this Hope, when there are some who deem it nothing but fluff?

God’s presence breaks my thoughts, springing hope like fresh buds swelling at the base of a wintered branch. “Without Me, they will forever be heartsick. The Hope-seeds, they are simply yours to share—mine to water.”

In my fear, in my weariness, the opinion of a few had grown large until it somehow mattered more than the opinion of God.

Forgive me God? Forgive me for masking my heart—the very thing I beg others not to do. I know better. I’ve seen authenticity {with others and ourselves} pave the way to genuine healing. Without my Hope {You!} we are forever hopeless. Help me to keep on hoping for your help and to deliberately and unabashedly share it with others. Hope is still hope, regardless how others choose to respond.

Yes my words may force some to face things they wish they didn’t have to. And Hope may take them back to a place they wish they’d never been and they may squirm uncomfortable. But it is in that place where healing waits. So today, I stop apologizing for this thread that runs soul-deep. These scars where Hope first bloomed—they paid the price. Earned the right to say things can change, will change when we make intentional choices that will lead us beyond the pain.

 I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in Him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit (Romans 15:13 NLT).

4 thoughts on “When Life’s Hurts Press {Too} Real

  1. “There are those who cry loudly for you to be authentic, but then they run when you are.” Oh this is so the truth with some people! Thank you for being transparent…even when you’re blogging about how hard it is! You are loved!

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