“When Hope Feels Hard: Following Jesus in Dark Times.”

We all experience dark times that come from illness, grief, poverty, loss, injustice, and fear.   And then there is another kind of darkness — the kind that comes when people we love, people we worship with, people we thought shared our deepest values, seem to excuse or even celebrate things that wound the very people Jesus told us to protect.  That kind of darkness is confusing.  For myself it has brought me much grief.

This post is written directly to those who are believers, but much of this is going to be helpful to those of you who are not believers.  Love is powerful - wherever it comes from.  With that in mind - I continue.

It is one thing to disagree about taxes, programs, policies, or political parties. I have known good-hearted Republicans. I have respected Republican leaders in my lifetime, even when I disagreed with them. This is not about party loyalty for me. This is about something deeper.

It is about what happens to our hearts when cruelty becomes acceptable. And it is becoming acceptable.  It is about what happens when mocking, threatening, lying, dehumanizing, scapegoating, and harming vulnerable people are treated as “just politics.” It is about what happens when Christians defend behavior in a leader that we would never tolerate in a pastor, teacher, neighbor, spouse, or child.  In all honesty, it can make hope feel very far away.

For those of us working with the homeless, the poor, the addicted, the traumatized, the immigrant, the lonely, and the forgotten, this is not theoretical. We see real people. We know their names. We hear their stories. We watch how public cruelty trickles down into everyday life.

So when friends continue to admire a leader who seems to thrive on contempt, it can feel like a personal betrayal. Not because they voted differently. Not because we need everyone to think like us. But because we wonder, “Do you not see who is being hurt?”  And maybe the hardest part is this: it becomes difficult to respect people we still love.  Whew!  That sentence is painful, but it is honest.

So where do we find hope? I don't really think hope begins by pretending we are not hurt. Hope does not require denial. Hope does not mean brushing aside the grief of realizing that some people may not be who we thought they were. Hope does not mean calling everything “fine” when our hearts know it is not fine.  Biblical hope is not wishful thinking. It is stubborn faithfulness.

Hope is the decision to keep bringing light when the room is dark. Hope is feeding people anyway. Hope is telling the truth anyway. Hope is refusing to let another person’s hardness make us hard. Hope is choosing not to become cruel in response to cruelty.  There was a time when I was so angry, I likely hurt people. I have been working hard in the last few months on not attacking,  but simply telling the truth.  I want to stay hopeful, talk and share about love and truth

Jesus never told us that following Him would protect us from disappointment. In fact, He seemed to prepare us for it. He knew what it was to be misunderstood, betrayed, abandoned, mocked, and rejected by religious people who were sure they were right.  And still, He loved.  AND STILL HE LOVED.

An important point - Jesus’ love was not passive. His love did not excuse harm. His love did not flatter the powerful while ignoring the wounded. His love told the truth. His love turned over tables. His love wept over cities. His love moved toward the people everyone else pushed aside. He was not prideful, demanding and boastful about Christians being front and center in the world having control over everything worldly.

So when we are looking for hope in dark times, maybe we begin here: We look for Jesus among the people being harmed.   Not among the loudest voices.  Not among the most powerful. Not among those demanding loyalty.
Not among those using faith as a weapon. We look for Him with the hungry, the stranger, the sick, the imprisoned, the poor, the cast aside, the exhausted, the grieving, and the afraid.  And when we find Him there, we find our assignment again.  ***But we also have to care for our own souls.  ***

Those of us who are tenderhearted can become overwhelmed. We can carry way too much. We can confuse compassion with constant exposure to pain. We can think that because people are suffering, we are not allowed to rest.  I am finally beginning to realize how important that all is.  But even Jesus withdrew.  He went away to pray. He stepped back from crowds. He slept in the boat. He allowed others to minister. He did not heal every person in every town. He lived within the limits of a human body.  He was human.  Oh, this lesson has been difficult for me, but in addressing it, I am taking better care of myself, being kinder to others, and kinder to myself.  That is so important. Self-care is not selfish when it allows us to keep loving without becoming bitter.  Whew! Did you hear that? Let me say it again.  Self-care is not selfish when it allows us to keep loving without becoming bitter. 

Sometimes self-care looks like turning off the news. Sometimes it looks like taking a walk. Sometimes it looks like saying, “I cannot have this conversation today.”
Sometimes it looks like spending time with people who still believe kindness matters.  Sometimes it looks like worship, silence, therapy, journaling, music, or simply breathing.  Sometimes it looks like grieving the loss of respect for someone without letting hatred take over your heart.  

We are allowed to set boundaries with people whose politics have become harmful to our peace. We are allowed to say, “I love you, but I cannot pretend this does not matter.” We are allowed to protect our spirits from arguments that go nowhere. But we also have to be careful not to let our disappointment become its own form of contempt.  Not easy.

There is a difference between discernment and hatred. There is a difference between naming harm and dehumanizing the person causing it. There is a difference between losing trust and losing love.

I do not have to understand every choice my friends make in order to remain faithful to mine.  I do not have to respect every belief in order to treat people with dignity. I do not have to stay silent in order to be kind.  And I do not have to give up hope because some people have let me down.

Hope is not found in pretending everyone will choose mercy. It is found in choosing mercy ourselves, and it is not found in believing the darkness is not real. Hope is found in believing the darkness does not get the final word.  Can I get an AMEN!!!!!  As I type,  my own words are giving me hope.

Hope is the meal served. The blanket handed out. The rent helped when we can.
The prayer whispered when we're exhausted.  The boundary spoken with courage.
The truth told without being cruel. The refusal to let our hearts become what we are grieving.

There are so many hopeless-feeling people right now. Some are homeless. Some are housed but really scared. Some are grieving the country. Some are grieving the church. Some are grieving friendships they thought were safe.  Some are grieving the weight of being different in an unaccepting country.  This is what I want to say to all of you:  You are not crazy for feeling all of this. You are not unchristian for being grieved by cruelty.  You are not hateful because you cannot admire what others excuse.  You are not weak because you need rest. And very imporatant is the simple fact that you are not alone. There is still light.

It doesn't always come from places we expect.  It may not come from certain leaders, churches, friends, or systems. But it still comes. It comes through every person who chooses compassion over contempt, every act of courage, every ministry that says you still matter, and through every follower of Jesus who remembers that the test of our faith was not how loudly we defended power, but how faithfully we loved the least of these.

So in dark times, we keep looking for the light.  Please remember that. Always look for the light. And when we cannot find it,  it's important to become a small piece of it. Not because we are strong every day, or never discouraged. And certainly not because we have all the answers.   It is because Jesus is still worth following. Especially now!