Prisoners of Hope

     Early yesterday morning, after a long night in the recliner chair by Janie's bed, a doctor came into her room.  If you have spent any time in a hospital, you know how you anxiously wait and look for the doctor to come by to give you any kind of information on, for them,  just another patient, but, for you, is your precious-beyond-words baby daughter.  We were awaiting the results of her MRI the night before, and this doctor who I'd never seen before came in to tell me his prognosis.
     I won't go into what he said, but suffice it to say, it was devastating and took me to dark, scary places no mother ever wants to contemplate with their child.  This is not to say he was mean in any way, it's just that his medically direct words sucked the hope from my heart.  He made it clear, however, as we know quite well by now, that the brain is a mysterious thing and we just don't know and can't predict the outcome of all this.  Believe me, I'm being intentionally vague here, because I refuse to repeat ever again words that rob my daughter of the best of whatever God has in mind for her future.  "'For I know the plans I for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, to give you hope and a future.'" (Jer.29:11)  I don't know what that will look like for her, but I'm trusting God that His plans are always ultimately for our good and His glory.
     After he left, I felt numb and hollowed out.  I rushed out of ICU, and there was our sweet friend and  pastor, Russ, standing just outside with his Bible.  This is just how God has worked over and over and over again the past few days--just when despair threatens to swallow you, God rushes in with a friend's incredible kindness or a sweet text or an encouraging nurse or the voice of a loved one sharing something that only God could have given them for that just moment.  It's hard to explain, but it's just amazing.. and wonderful.
     But there was Russ, and after I had choked out what the doctor had said, we went back to Janie's room.  I told her I loved her and while I called my husband, Russ prayed over her and read her God's Word.  I weep as I write this thinking of God's grace being poured out through Russ and so many others.  O Lord Jesus, there is nothing, and I mean nothing, like the body of Christ.  What a gift beyond measure--this army of friends, comforting, encouraging, loving, and fighting with us and for us in this battle for Janie.
     My sweet sister, Jane, came into the room (again, thank You Lord Jesus for my family--all my dear brothers and sisters and their spouses--there simply are no words for this treasure in my life), and we wept together but kept telling Janie we loved her and to keep fighting.
     And then, as my dear husband put it later, hope rushed into the room.
     And hope's name was Dr. Touche.  I have no earthly idea how to spell his name, but I think the best spelling might just be H-O-P-E.  He had a very direct, quick, decisive manner.  And I recognized his name, because we had been told by some friends that he was an excellent, incredibly well-respected neurosurgeon. He looked at my sister Jane and me and asked us  in a quick clip: "Well, how is she?"
     Jane and I, teary eyed and still empty, sort of mumbled, Uh, She's doing well" or something equally bland.  I asked him if he had seen the MRI report, and he briskly responded yes, and then proceeded to go over to Janie and shout in her ear, "JANIE, WAKE UP!  JANIE WAKE UP!"  Jane and I looked at each other like with expressions that seemed to say: "Does this man have any idea what he's doing?  Doesn't he know what is going on here and how desperate this situation is?"  Janie did not wake ,up but she moved around a lot and seemed not at all happy to have been disturbed.
     Suffice it say, in his short few minutes with us, this man, for whom if I could have another child we would name him or her Touche, gave us incredible hope.  "One day, I fully expect that your daughter could walk into my office and say thank you."   My sister and I both burst into tears.  I hugged him.  I'm sure he thought we were nuts.  Again, he made it clear we have no idea with the brain, there are no guarantees, and progress will be measured in slow inches, not miles,  but there is great hope and he was  optimistic.
     Suddenly, everything had changed.  We went from staring the most desperate dark possibility in the face to being flooded with the reminder that "With God all things are possible."  (Mt.19:26)  We felt giddy with joy--we had a fighting chance.  Janie had a fighting chance--that is all we asked for--that God would give her an opportunity to bring Him glory with her life.
     We rushed out to tell Russ, and he immediately said, "We are going to start reading her the Word--filling her ears with God's supernatural, powerful Word."  Yes, I thought!!  Of course, why had I not thought of that before?  If Janie could hear us somehow deep deep down (and I believe she can), I bet she's thinking, "Seriously, Mom,  can you think of anything else to say besides 'We love you we love you, Janie!'"  God's Word--God's life-giving, explosively powerful, but perfectly peaceful and eternally encouraging Word!  Read her the Word!  Sing her the Word!
     Anything is possible--because we have HOPE!
     My husband and I talked about it later.  He said of that terrible half hour between these two dramatically different doctor visits: "That was the first time in my whole life where I had absolutely no hope.  And it was horrible, awful."  There are simply no words--and I will not go there, ever again. "But then," Richard said, "hope rushed into the room."  And it truly did--like a cleansing rush of pure clear mountain air.
     Because you see, with Christ, we ALWAYS have hope!
     Just recently I read these words in my Bible (again, our Sovereign Lord knew how I would need these treasures in a few short days): "As for you also, because of the blood of my covenant with you, I will set your prisoner free from the waterless pit.  Return to your stronghold, O prisoners of hope; today I declare to you that I will restore you double." (Zech. 9:11-12)  O Lord Jesus, how we pray You would release Janie from the waterless pit and free her to serve and glorify You.
     But that is what we are: "prisoners of hope."  How I love that!  We are not prisoners of despair or of fear, but prisoners of hope.  Hebrews calls it the "sure and steadfast anchor of the soul"--"We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek." (Heb. 6:19-20)
     Because we have Christ, we are prisoners of hope in Him.  And is a sure and steadfast, never failing, never inadequate hope, because He is always more than enough.
     I love how Charles Spurgeon put it in something my husband and I just read early this morning (again, God's grace--just appeared in our email this morning from a daily devotion we receive--grace upon grace upon grace.  Our God is relentlessly good!):

"Jesus has never given the slightest ground
for suspicion, and it is hard to be doubted by those to whom our conduct is
uniformly affectionate and true. Jesus is the Son of the Highest, and has
unbounded wealth; it is shameful to doubt Omnipotence and distrust
all-sufficiency. The cattle on a thousand hills will suffice for our most
hungry feeding, and the granaries of heaven are not likely to be emptied by
our eating. If Christ were only a cistern, we might soon exhaust his fulness,
but who can drain a fountain? Myriads of spirits have drawn their supplies
from him, and not one of them has murmured at the scantiness of his resources."  

     Such is our God and there is none other.  And we are prisoners of His hope.  So we will place our hope in Him as we face this long, tough battle.  As one of my sweet friends just came by and said, "Don't place your trust in what the doctors say; place your trust in the Truth."  Yep, God's eternal, powerful Word... well, that and dear Dr. Touche-Hope! 

     I don't know where you are today, but everybody needs hope, and I want to remind you that in Christ we have it in overwhelming, staggering abundance.  Boy, I know life can be hard, and we are all fighting battles of one kind or another, but I want you to emblazon on your heart, as we are on ours--In Christ, we are prisoners of hope.  And He will never fail you.  Anchor your hope and your heart in Him.  

     And when, like me, you forget and start to listen to those voices of "what if" or "how will we handle that if..." then we'll go back to His Word and counsel our hearts with the Truth and remind ourselves that we are His prisoners of hope.  We are all in this together... and the Savior and Redeemer and Restorer is in it with us too.. forever faithful.

     Last night, I came home to spend the night to be with the boys, and as we sat down to dinner, I looked up at the platter we keep beside our kitchen table.  And there it was again--like I said, this God of ours, He's relentless.  That's it in the picture above: "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."  (Heb.11:1)  That is our faith--anchored steadfastly in a relentlessly good and faithful God.  And so we will fight on--in Him,  in His Truth, in His hope.

     Thank You, Lord Jesus, for being the God of all hope and for pouring out Your grace upon us, your desperately needy children.  Daily remind us that we are Your prisoners of hope and bring Your healing and redemption and power and peace and love into the battles we all face.  To the God of Hope be all the glory.