Day 54: Choose Hope

And regarding the question, friends, that has come up about what happens to those already dead and buried, we don’t want you in the dark any longer. First off, you must not carry on over them like people who have nothing to look forward to, as if the grave were the last word. Since Jesus died and broke loose from the grave, God will most certainly bring back to life those who died in Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 4:13–14 msg

I remember all too well those very long, hard, heartbreaking days that followed my brother-in-law James’s tragic and unexpected death (which occurred only a month after COVID-19 was declared a global pandemic and it seemed the entire planet was already grappling with some measure of grief and anxiety). Of course, his loss is still acute for all of us who knew and loved him, but the initial impact was brutal. Every morning, I’d wake up to the immediate, terrible memory of his death . . . it was like being hit by a wave of sorrow every time you break the surface for a breath of air after being underwater for so long you thought your lungs would burst. I couldn’t imagine what my sister and nephews were going through in the wake of his loss. The fact that I couldn’t do very much—besides listen—to lessen their grief in those first few weeks compounded my sadness.

However, as I slowly ambled around the yard early one morning during that initial season of grief, I sensed a quiet pulse of hope in my heavy heart. The peach trees I had planted just a few years ago (to camouflage the big, ugly, pokey-outy green top of a giant submerged propane tank) was now laden with hundreds, maybe thousands, of peaches. The smell was heavenly. Tiny apples had sprouted from the white flowers that covered our apple trees only a few weeks before, and green plums looked like they were playing hide-and-seek throughout our mini-orchard because they were the exact same color of the leaves. Tomatoes and blackberries and blueberries and strawberries and herbs all seemed to be shouting happily for attention—“Hey y’all, look at how big we’re getting!”—while the irises and roses and lavender and jasmine performed a collective wave of blooms in appreciation of their fruity cousins. And all at once, I found myself remembering afresh how the austere barrenness of winter serves to make the abundant growth of spring all the more glorious.

Yes, we live in a broken world that is marred by gut-wrenching loss and great grief and global pandemics, but God’s compassionate presence is never absent no matter how dark or difficult the season. Because of what Jesus accomplished on that Resurrection Sunday over two thousand year ago, death does not have the final say. Life does. Therefore, we really don’t have to grieve as those who have no hope. We can choose hope and speak life and love hard, even when it is hard.

• How have you experienced God’s presence and comfort in the wintery seasons of your life?
• What kinds of grief or loss still wash over you like a wave sometimes?
• What might it look like to grieve in these moments with hope?