Hope, promises, Trust Hope, promises, Trust

Teach Us To Hope

In the car, I dim the music and I pray about promises.

Yesterday's message was on welcoming God, on learning to trust His promises. I seek to answer the question, "Is there a promise from God that I need to trust?"

These last few months have held a flurry of promises:

"I will restore your joy."
"I will comfort you."
"You will grow."

I'm praying off-the-cuff, spouting words to my steering wheel, to the silver Chevy Malibu who sneaks into my lane.

I ask God to teach us to hope.

TEACH us to hope? They're my words I've spoken, but still I'm surprised.

It's a prayer I don't think I've uttered before, or a least not often.

Teach us to love.
Teach us to care.
Teach us to follow you.


Those requests spill from my lips, almost of their own volition. But never teach us to HOPE.


Bring hope.
Stir hope. 

I've prayed those lines before. God is the one with the hope; we are passive recipients. 

I've never viewed hope as a discipline to be learned.

All this while, all this year, I've been caught between expectation and entitlement, wondering which promises to cling to, discerning if anything has been promised at all. I've been finagling my way to some kind of spiritually mature sense of hope for the future and trust in His promises.

I never thought to ask Him how. To ask Him to teach me.

I've sensed Him telling me to choose joy and to choose to trust, whether or not I feel hopeful.

As I dodge brake lights, exit the freeway, I sense the missing piece, the forgotten discipline, the unanswered command:

"Learn hope," He whispers. "Let me teach you."

Yes, Father, I want to learn.

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On the Difference between Hope and Entitlement


If I had a dime for every time a well-meaning older friend told me not to fret my current  boyfriendless state because "God will bring the right man to me," I'd be rich enough to buy myself the aforementioned perfect man. 


Apart from the fact that those statements often make me feel worse, not better about my lack of a love life, I also worry that trite phrases like these are actually spreading false theology. 


I don't doubt God could bring the right man into my life, but I also don't believe he promised me one. 


He never promised me the perfect love story or the perfect job or the perfect body. 


As a restless twentysomething, I've been doing a lot of dreaming and scheming for my future. I've been trying to work out the difference between my God-given hopes of finding love and keeping a fulfilling job and the unhealthy entitlement monster that tries to convince me that God owes me these things and I will not be satisfied until I get them.

I came across this wonderful post today over at Ragmuffin Soul about the many things that God doesn't promise us
The author writes,


 "The ONLY thing that we are promised is the love of Jesus."


Not an easy life. Not freedom from depression. Not the perfect marriage. Not a fulfilling job. Not even a happy, functional family. 


Only love. 


The author writes, "And that love can…Hold you during a rough adulthood…Sustain you during rough depression…Restore you when you sabotage your marriage…Provide for you when you are out of cash…Support you when Jesus is your only grace…Reveal to you when you look in the mirror and see Grace on your chest…Be Hope for you when the fridge is empty…Fill you when you read His Word…Satisfy you when you have worked harder on your job than on your family…"Now that sounds like a promise worth putting my hope in.  

What empty promises do you put your hope in? How do you balance your desires between hope and entitlement?

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