Hope in My Pocket


It was a long cold winter that year. I felt sure it would never end. The sun finally emerged one day, but it was still a bit cool so I pulled out my favorite yellow spring jacket. I reached into the pocket and to my surprise I found a $20 bill. I must have known it was there at one time because I most likely put it there. But it had been a long winter, a long time since it was warm enough to wear that jacket. Even though I didn’t know it, that $20 bill was there all along just waiting for me to find it again.

Sometimes hope is like that $20 bill, hiding in your pocket.

We have it and we know it, but in the long hard winters of life we forget about it. The winter can be so long and so cold that we lose all memory of hope. But even though we forget, hope is there all along just waiting for us to find it again.

I struggled a long time with the pain of fibromyalgia.

I had no hope that I would feel well. God reminded me to fear not for hope was still there.

I despaired for five years because of underemployment. I had little hope of securing and being able to keep a full-time job. God reminded me to fear not for hope was still there.

I felt despondent for what seemed like forever over the loss of my mother. And later my father. I had no hope of feeling joy again. God reminded me to fear not for hope was still there.

I traveled the long road of despair and depression, stemming from trauma to bitter to forget. For over a decade I was certain I would be broken forever. God reminded me to fear not for hope was still there.

Recently, I have been in anguish over the state of our world, the corruption and greed, the violence and sickness, that seem to rule the day. Is there any hope for a better world? God reminds us to fear not for hope is still here.

Romans 5:3-5 NLT.

We may forget our hope in the long cold winters of life, but our hope—our God—is still here with us. Some of what we hope for we will not see until we reach heaven. But some of what we hope for is sitting in the pocket of our yellow spring jacket waiting for us to find it again.

I Must Touch Jesus Now

“A woman suffering from bleeding for twelve years, who had spent all she had on doctors and yet could not be healed by any, approached from behind and touched the end of his robe. Instantly her bleeding stopped.

45 “Who touched me?” Jesus asked.

When they all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the crowds are hemming you in and pressing against you.”

Luke 8:43-45, (Matthew 9:20-22)

I just had to touch Him.

I had to reach out and somehow get His attention. It was no longer an option. I bled all the time and it wouldn’t stop. It was constant, and it had been 12 miserable years. No one or nothing could cure this, no doctor, no medicine. I was so desperate. It had to stop, you must understand, I was dying.

I had spent so much money, on so many doctors.

I had nothing left. Each doctor promised a cure and my hopes were always dashed. But then I heard about a teacher named Jesus, I was told He had the power to raise the dead and heal every disease He encountered. I don’t really know why, but instantly I knew only He could heal me.

I had an issue of blood, that meant I was ritually unclean and all that I touched became unclean. The temple was off-limits to me, I had been cut off from sacrifice and any kind of personal forgiveness for my sins. In my darker moments, I really wondered if God really had forsaken me? Was I damned?

It had been 12 terribly exhausting years.

What I had to do must be done secretly and quietly. I knew I just somehow had to touch this man. I would have to wriggle my way through the crowd to get close enough. I would be violating ritual law, if I got caught and I’d be harshly censured and condemned.

But I was always tired. Sometimes I barely could walk without fainting.

The crowds were packed all around Him, but honestly, I knew all I needed was just a simple touch. I knew Jesus had the power. I just knew it. I needed somehow to get close enough; I knew that everything depended on me somehow connecting with Him.

So I waited and watched. I tried to jockey myself and get in the right position. The crowds were tightly surrounding Jesus, I had to push, drive and squeeze. Sometimes I had to get on my hands and knees. But in that split second when He passed, I just managed to grab just the very outside corner of the tassel of His head covering.

And immediately the flow stopped. Just like that! I felt it inside, and immediately knew what happened. Finally I knew, deep down, I had been healed! I was clean.

Please understand dear one, only Jesus can free you. If you can only reach out and touch Him, He will change you– forever.

Christ is the Good Physician. There is no disease He cannot heal; no sin He cannot remove; no trouble He cannot help.”

    James H. Aughey

Safe Haven

This poem is written in the Triolet form. I really love this form because it has the perfect amount of repetition, with lines 1, 4, and 7 being the same, and then lines 2 and 8 being the same. I have found that the Triolet is well suited to Christian poetry.

Safe Haven

This life is hard and treacherous
It’s no place to go it alone
The only safe haven is Jesus
This life is hard and treacherous

Our  Emmanuel, God with us
Will never forsake or leave us
This life is hard and treacherous
It’s no place to go it alone

I hope this poem serves as a reminder to the reader that you don’t have to navigate the treacherous waters of this life alone. Jesus wants to walk by your side, to carry you if need be, and bring you safely to the other side of Jordan.

Jesus said, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

John 16:33 (NIV)

anotherfearlessyear.net

God Used My Trials


Trigger Warning: This post involves rape. If you are sensitive, please tread lightly. It is not my intention to cause more pain, but to show how God can use even our worst trauma for good.

But Joseph said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”

Genesis 50:19-20 (NIV)

When you’re fourteen, they call it puppy love. I thought it was real because he claimed he loved me, too. He was older and cute in a rugged sort of way, with shaggy long brown hair and a scruff of facial hair, not quite a beard and mustache.

One day he asked me to go for a walk, just to talk. The biting cold drove us indoors to his house. In my naiveté, I never saw it coming. At the tender age of 14, my 105-pound frame was overpowered and violated. Without a second thought, he crushed my spirit and devoured an innocence I can never redeem.

It can sound like a platitude, or worse, this oft repeated verse:

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

Romans 8:28, NIV

Surely, Paul didn’t mean all things? He couldn’t have meant the rape I suffered? God certainly can’t bring any good from the suffering, shame, and depression that followed me for decades after?

Or can He?

Even now—as a powerless, frightened little girl lives in me and I sometimes struggle with deep despair, doubting God’s blessings—God reminds me I am His beloved. He has empowered me to survive any trial. I may feel powerless and frightened, but the truth is He will not allow me to be utterly destroyed.

Trauma and loss are inevitable for all of us. I’m not alone even in this dreadful experience of sexual assault.

When I consider my experiences in the light of God’s purposes for my life, I see the blessing. His bigger plan becomes less fuzzy, if not clear. I see how my troubles drew me closer to Jesus as my only refuge.

The path my life may have taken—had there been no pain, no loss of innocence—is one in which I may have never understood my need for a Savior. When all is well, what does one need saving from? But I did need to be saved from a darkness that grew deeper with each successive trauma I experienced. I desperately needed rescuing so I could live this wonderful, light-filled life He gave me.

I like the woman God has shaped me into, even if suffering was required for the Potter to mold this piece of clay. God did not plan or desire my suffering, but He certainly used it to develop in me the compassion, mercy, and humility that have become my hallmark. In all my experiences, He worked for my good because He loves me. He has called me to use my experience to give hope to others.

Do you need this hope today?

It’s just a story away. I’d love if you would share your story so that God can begin to use it for good, too. If you don’t know how to even start writing your story, check out my guided poetry journal, which you can request here: https://anotherfearlessyear.net/i-believe-you.