Trials and What I Learned About Hope

Sometime during Mighty Joe's 11-day stay in the Pediatric ICU, a young lady was brought in to die.  Her room was right across the hall from ours, and for three days we watched a vigil.  A priest was brought in to administer last rites, a small group of pastors came in and laid hands on her, her dog was brought in to cuddle her on the bed.

On the night she died, her mother stood wailing outside our room.  I will never, as long as I live, forget that sound, and I remember thinking, "There's no hope.  They have no hope!"

It changed my life.  I am not an emotional woman and often don't cry when I probably should.  But every time I recall that night and the sound of that grieving mother, I weap.  And then I get angry.

What are we doing? If we aren't in the business of giving people hope, then we need to shut down our churches and seminaries and Christian schools and homeschools.  If we love the way we view God or the way we do church or the sacraments or means of grace or modesty or homeschooling or anything else more than we love Jesus, then we ought to lay down and die right now.

Just give me Jesus. Just give me hope.