Lost and Found

Featured

The metamorphosis was almost complete for she was the guilt and shame, the bitterness and loneliness, the fearfulness and emptiness that pooled itself in the middle of the floor. Her very life force had all but slipped away, absorbing into the fibers of the carpet as she let go.

Letting go – it seemed that her very struggle in life had been holding on – as if she had been carrying around a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle in her hands, searching for the last piece and hoping that no one would come close enough to cause the puzzle to collapse. The puzzle — her life, in pieces. There was no foundation upon which she could carry it – no box top, no cardboard slice, no Plexiglas beneath it to maintain the integrity of the puzzle.

Each piece was a hand-painted representation of all her hopes and dreams, watercolors stained by her tears, faced by the harshness of the elements that weathered what she had so diligently pieced together over the years. But that last piece, that elusive last piece, was the vision and hope that had sustained her so far – nowhere to be found. As she let go the clarity of her hopefulness turned to despair, fading into the recesses of her mind. All hope was lost now. There was no point. She laid the puzzle down. No more searching. No more longing. No more struggling. No more.

As she gazed upon it one last time it too began to melt away. She had come to the end of herself. Darkness had already coveted the room, enticing her further, begging her to follow.

She closed her eyes. The first moments were quiet, like the murky stillness of the ocean bed. As she took her last breaths, her body became heavy, a shipwreck hitting the bottom. Darkness had come to ravage her. “Is there no peace in death itself? She cried out. “If you’re really there, if you really love me, show yourself. If not, let me go!”

Through her tears, she spied a glint of light. It captured her attention. It flickered and danced on the carpet. She watched it; she was mesmerized – momentarily forgetting why she was on the floor in the first place. Where was it coming from? She scanned the room quickly. What is this? That glimmering fragment of light before her was overcoming darkness. There came with it a sense of peace, a sense of intrigue and curiosity that entreated just a few more minutes of her time. She acquiesced. Surrendered. And life began. The kind of life someone lives. Not the surviving kind, the thriving kind. Glory to her Creator and Saviour her solid foundation.

The Widow of Zarapheth

HopeHave you ever come to a place of utter desperation? Maybe financial problems plaguing you. Maybe a separation or divorce. Maybe dealing with a wayward child, or dealing with a potentially terminal illness. Days, weeks and months go by as you do all you can, in your own strength, to handle the issue that never seems to come to resolve. You come to the end of yourself – the desperation has overtaken you.

 

There’s a story of a widow who lived in the town of Zarapheth with her young son. They were dirt poor and starving – to death. She was hopeless and contemplating suicide. Holding on to her son tightly, she called out to God as a last resort; her pleas returned to her like a boomerang.

 

Whether believing in God, or not, everyone eventually prays for help.

 

Someone came alongside the widow and prayed for her, standing in the gap for her and her needs.  Her prayers were answered. No doubt she was grateful for her blessing; it saved her son’s life as well as her own.

 

Sometimes, when we believe all hope is lost, that can be the moment God steps in and answers our prayers – rarely the way in which we expected. Once there is a resolution, even if its not exactly what we were hoping for, our peace returns to us, or, for the person who doesn’t believe in answered prayers – a type of homeostasis returns.

 

The widow and her son lived on for some time, enjoying everyday life. Some time later, her son became seriously ill. Her faith was again lost. Forgotten was the answered prayer of the past. All focus remained on her very dark and present situation.

 

So often people quickly forget that hope is real and mustn’t be forsaken. Hope is something we need to breathe in – it’s a living thing inside us that needs nurturing. Hope is the anchor, the anchor of faith that we all need in our lives.

 

The widow gave up hope as her son came sank closer to death. She lashed out in anger. She lost her hope. But God, once again made a believer out of her.

 

How many times have our cries resulted in our tears being wiped away, only to find that at the next crossroad, we keep taking the same left turn over and over again. What is the answer to remain at peace always and filled with hopeful expectation? “This hope [this confident assurance] we have as an anchor of the soul [it cannot slip and it cannot break down under whatever pressure bears upon it]—a safe and steadfast hope that enters within the veil [of the heavenly temple, that most Holy Place in which the very presence of God dwells].” Hebrews 6:19 Amplified.

 

Stand firm. Believe. Hope. Give thanks.