Afraid To Hope
Sometimes it’s really hard to have hope.
Yesterday I got to sit down with one of four friends that I have been praying for for 15 years. Peter (not his name) has been a lifelong drug user, been convicted of a felony and spent a year in prison, and has been homeless a lot the last year. He’s always on the verge of “ending it” wondering out loud so someone will rescue him. His family almost always does, providing him with a warm meal and a bed to sleep on until he finds an alternate. He even has a job that has rehired him, no exaggeration, at least 100 times over the last fifteen years.
His sister told me the family decided to do an intervention and place him in rehab. Peter was cool with this, telling everyone this was the final time, that he needed to get sober. Sad thing is I heard these exact words from him four months ago, and a year ago, and every time I’ve seen him over the last ten years.
His family spent the last two days trying to get him in a county rehab program but they didn’t have an open bed, so he had to wait…and wait…and wait. Two days passed and no bed. But this time ended up being part of God’s plan to get the family together for those two days and just sit and have some painful conversations.
And one sister said, “I’m afraid to hope for you.”
Think about that statement for a second. This is a family that has stuck it out for 44 years with this guy. They refused to give up on him. But every time he came around it stirred up some very painful possibilities. What happens if you are lying to us? What happens if you do this rehab thing and then go back to your crap? You’re asking me to invest in hope, in the possibility that God can show up, and I don’t know if I can anymore.
For some strange reason, his sister decided to bring him over to my house and we got to talk. And I know that this two day pow-wow with his family got him really thinking. If they didn’t believe in him who would? He had destroyed every other relationship in his life. This was it. And for the first time we got to really talk…deeply and honestly. No BS. And for the first time he listened. I don’t know why. God moved. We actually prayed and got to some serious root issues regarding trust and the work of the enemy in his life to produce significant lies about God’s love. Something broke. For the first time, Peter could see that he was worth fighting for. He was released. We cried…a lot. It was the first time I have seen him cry.
And to be honest I almost didn’t get to experience this moment. I knew he was there and almost didn’t come home. I was afraid to hope. I was afraid that if I invested in him one more time he would squander it. I almost missed the amazing gift God wanted to give me by participating in his restoration.
And then I began to realize how God must feel when we walk away. For some reason, he just doesn’t give up hope. He’s the Father who waits on the edge of the porch, with one eye on the end of the road. I need that in my life.
Please know that no matter what the pain, don’t give up hope.
Listening: The Cure For Pain by Jon Foreman
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