The last two weeks, I could almost see the signs pointing towards a new blog post in my near future.
At my cousin’s graduation last weekend, I was asked by two different family members if I was writing lately, followed by “Well, why aren’t you writing?”
The next day, I felt God tell me, “You don’t need me in America.”
But I didn’t feel like it was a conviction, as much as it was just a fact; like, I wasn’t supposed to feel bad about it.
Yea, that confused me.
I began trying to fill in the missing pieces on my own.
You know– God gives me a word then I try to finish the book for Him. No? No one else knows what that’s like, right?
But I had no passion.
I write when I am passionate about something, when I’m excited and want to tell the world or when I’m crushed and need someone to come alongside me. But, recently, I have been stuck smack dab in the middle emotionally.
So, I took the advice of my beautiful, wise squad coach from last year (Betsy Garmon) and sat in my stuff. I didn’t move forward but I didn’t retreat. I decided to live in the tension of feeling like there was more to come but not knowing what it was.
This morning, “it” broke through my emotional barrier like rain through a cloud during a downpour.
“You don’t need me in America,
But other people still do.”
God reignited my passion for other people’s need for hope.
I wanted nothing to do with getting out of my bed and going to work; I wanted to start word vomiting all over my journals and Microsoft Word.
But, I knew I had to go.
After arriving at work, one of our customers that has always come into the store laughing, joking and happy for the past eight years that I have worked there, came in somber and looking emotionally and even physically crushed.
As he sobbed pretty uncontrollably, his wife quietly told of how their 15-year-old son hanged himself in the family garage a few days ago, resulting in his younger sister discovering his lifeless body a few hours later.
He had lost hope that there was more to life than what he was currently experiencing.
His family is losing hope they can find “normal” after that life-changing event.
Last week, I was reminded of another instance of the devastation that can come with the loss of hope. For those of you who know my story, you probably remember my friend who shot himself before the first football game of our senior year; last week was his birthday.
Seven birthdays have come and gone since I was able to tell him, “Happy birthday!” or see him laughing in the halls of the high school.
Seven years ago, he lost hope that there was more to life after high school and its pettiness.
Since that day, some of his friends have lost hope that there is a “god” if he allows things like that to happen.
A suicidal person is the most extreme demonstration of hopelessness that I’ve seen in this world. And, to make things even worse, their hopelessness trickles into their friend’s and family’s lives.
Yes, death itself can be sad, but suicide ultimately breaks me down.
God has gifted me with an empathetic spirit and it is usually overwhelming to live with.
But when I hear about someone who has lost all hope, my heart shatters.
“How can you not see there is so much more than what you are experiencing? How can you not have hope?”
My heart shatters not because I will miss that person- even though I will- or because their family hurts- even though that also hurts me- but because that person had lost all hope.
What is a life without hope?
I have seen hope renewed and restored in countries all around the world and rejoice when God allows me to bear witness to such an occasion. But, I am so turned off towards America that I forgot how hopeless we, as a country, are.
I read articles on my news apps on my phone at least four times every day. I see the articles about Thailand, China, Ukraine, Nigeria, and so many more countries plunging deep into hopelessness, rebellion, and pain.
I feel sad for them.
However, in order to see all those articles, I scroll right past the ones showing the hopelessness in my own country.
My blinders for the despair of my own country has caused my heart to be hardened for the state of it.
There is a lot more to come on this subject (after I sort through all the things in my head), but as for this week, God is reigniting the passion I have to see hope restored in the hopeless.
And it’s in a place I never thought I would connect to—America.
So, until I am called elsewhere for a long-term life, I will be here investing in America.
I have hope.
I don’t “need” God.
But, this country, these people, they have no hope.
They need to be shown God in order to find hope.
I believe I am here for that reason.
Keep your eyes peeled for a follow-up. 🙂
