Hope Changes Everythingنموونە

I believe in Jesus and all He said and did, which means I also believe what He said in Matthew 11:30 about living a life with Him. He said, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Not hard, not heavy. Easy and light.

How? Because Jesus is the new way, the new life, and He came to say it's not about the old way, it's not about the rules, rituals, and regulations—it’s about a right-standing relationship.

When I'm off track, His love guides me back.

When my thoughts get ahead of me, His wisdom slows me down.

When I'm nervous about the future, He reminds that He is my hope and that He has plans to prosper me, not to harm.

When I’m scared, I can trust that He is more powerful and let Him whisper in my ear, Fear not, my son, for I have overcome the world!

With this confidence I go running towards the future, my head held high knowing there is nothing I cannot do, no person who could ever stop me, no mountain too high, no valley too low, for my God is the ultimate hope—and when we grab on to His hope it changes everything!

Hope never drops you off at a final destination, leaving you with a sign that says I’m finished, I’m healed. No, hope moves through you as you move through life. And that’s the way you want it. Grasping the concept that the hope inside you can only grow and build throughout your life should move you passionately and give you a comfort and contentment that before has been unattainable.

You see, God’s grace is a force you can’t stop—He’s coming after you whether you like it or not. But He won’t chase you down with finger-wagging, asking, How could you have done this to Me? Instead, He comes to you with a smile on his face, begging for you just to come home.

This talk of coming home reminds me, of course, of the parable of the prodigal son that Jesus tells in Luke 15:11-32, about an irresponsible son who demanded his inheritance early, got it, then left home and lived irresponsibly, blowing the money on carousing and revelry, the pleasures of the flesh.

He was able to spend himself into oblivion until he was starving and dreaming about eating pig slop. He decided to go back home in the hopes of getting a job just working on his father’s estate—he’s hoping to become a hired hand. The parable concludes with the son coming back home and the father jumping for joy over it, embracing him, and restoring him to his place not as a hired hand but as a son (and then the other son getting all sulky about it).

What I love about this story is not only that hope changed everything for that son, but that the father completely blew his mind about it. The son, having dishonored his father and blown all his money, got just a sliver of hope into his brain—maybe I can go home and at least be a servant. That small amount of hope gave him enough strength to get his eyes off himself and turn back toward home—it became a driver for him, giving him enough strength to somehow make the journey back to where his father lived.

His hope was the motivating factor, but the great thing about God is that He sees our small amounts of hope and is so pleased at the effort that He douses us in more hope than we could’ve ever imagined for ourselves in the first place.

In John 11 we read another great story about people who had given up on something, even in the midst of Jesus looking them in the face and telling them otherwise. The thing they’d given up on? A guy named Lazarus.

He was dead. He’d been dead for four days, actually. And now Jesus was at his house talking with this family, and Lazarus’s family kept telling Jesus, essentially, “What’s the deal? Why weren’t You here? If You’d been here, he wouldn’t be dead!”

They weren’t prepared for what Jesus was going to do, but he reassured them it was okay. All they needed was enough hope to obey him when he told them to open up Lazarus’s grave by rolling the stone out of the way.

And then Jesus says the simple words: “Lazarus, come out!”

Boom. The dead man wakes up and walks out.

In that moment, Jesus looked death in the face and essentially said, “You can’t tell me what to do. You don’t own me. You are not the final answer—I am. You don’t get the last word—I do.”

Jesus still feels the same way about you. About your dreams.

Your pain doesn’t get the last word.

Your past doesn’t get it either.

Jesus does.

He wants to resurrect you. He wants to resurrect your dreams, to breathe life into them again, to pump lifeblood once more through those veins.

All you need is a little bit of hope. Hope to head back home into the unknown, like the prodigal son. Hope just to roll back the gravestone and see what Jesus does with what’s inside.

On the days when it gets rough, we’ve learned what to do. We have some tools in our tool belt to overcome the pain and fear that seeks to destroy. And if something happens and we do mess up, we fall back into something we shouldn’t, please know this: God will not be disappointed.

His arms will always be open.

A relationship with God means He is always leaning in, pressing in, pursuing our souls, not with judgment, but always with love. God will not be alarmed by your mistakes nor will He love you any less.

The hope we cling to today that changes us is this: God loves you as much in your present situation as He did in the pain of your past.

When it comes to your life, God always gets the last word. And that last word is always going to bring hope. And hope changes everything.

If you need a dose of hope, especially if you or someone you love is struggling with addiction or substance abuse, visit Hope is Alive at hopeisalive.net.