I HAD TO LAUGH when GOD came through after I thought this painting was hopeless. This amusement isn’t the first time, and I’m sure it’s not the last.

Last week Allison MarJean, my eighteen-year-old granddaughter from Alaska, visited me. Artistically gifted, she joined me in my studio, where we enjoyed hours painting together. She did two modern, bright, wildly unique paintings. My attempts were the same ol’ sky, hills, trees, and water. Stuck in monotony, I sighed and almost resigned to being too old to learn new tricks. Yet God wanted to redeem my work (How many times does He have to do that for me!?).

Suddenly I saw myself in that painting, trying desperately to make it time and effort worthy.

I also thought about the persistence of hope and the tyranny of hopeless realities into which we so easily fall. The truth is, I still have tremors and will never be one of the Great Masters (tremors or not). Yet, hope says I can still be an illustrator. But if not even that, I must base my hope and expectations on something or Someone even more sure and steadfast.

When we take on a new career, job, or ministry, we expect it to grow and prosper. Yet sometimes, our plans go differently than expected, and we suffer disappointment. We anticipate falling in love, sometimes entangling that anticipation with fairy tale dreams. When we walk down the aisle toward our beloved to vow before God and man our fidelity “till death do us part,” we can’t fathom the grief of separation that eventually rips us apart one way or another. When we hold our sweet babies in our arms, we never entertain the thought of them turning from God and us. Yet so many parents experience heartbreak over the choices of their growing and grown children.

How long before our career or ministry thrives? How long do we hope for our long-awaited love? How long before our marriage heals? When will our wayward children return? Is there ever a time to write “anathema” over the door, shake the proverbial dust from our flip-flops, and move on? 

Anathema means “without hope of being redeemed.” Earthly foundations will most certainly crumble. But 1 Peter 1:21 says, “…your faith and hope are in GOD”. In 2:6, Peter says, “The one who trusts in Him will never be put to shame.” Hope remains steadfast during difficult times (1 Cor 13:7 AMP). Indeed the prodigal son appeared as a lost cause. Yet, his father’s hope remained alert to his return until the day his hope became a reality and the lavish celebration began. 

Anathema was much more of a possibility for the son who refused to celebrate, for the religious child who learns to pretend instead of confessing the sickness of his soul and repenting. There is more hope for a prodigal sinner than for a Pharisee. There is more hope for a struggling marriage than for those who grasp the delusion of greener pastures. There is more hope for a struggling ministry than one steeped in dead orthodoxy.

Hope is not something we can conjure up ourselves. Hope is evidence of the Holy Spirit within us, the fruit of His divine presence. He alone can fill us with hope and keep it alive. Only as we abide in Him—the Vine, can we experience the miracle of hope within our hearts.

A time may come when we experience a necessary ending in a career, ministry, reins on a grown child, or by the infidelity or death of a spouse. A time comes to let go of the controls and release our ideals. A time comes to move on and trust God Himself to complete the work He began in us. The foundation of our hope must lie in the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit, in God’s promise to continue the work He began, to complete it, and to present each of us before His glorious presence without fault and great joy (Phl 1:6; Jde 1:24). 

We cannot base hope on our ability to control circumstances. Hope means releasing the reins and trusting God to do what we cannot do. Love always hopes in an all-powerful God. So, today, I again turn my eyes to the Redeemer who alone can fill my longing heart and give purpose to my life. He is enough, more than enough. Look at how He redeemed a dull, monotonous painting by allowing me to see myself striving to bring it to life! I still have to smile at Him. He is so good to me!!