Hope for Your Heart: Finding Strength in Life's Storms (2 page)

This book would not have set sail without all hands on deck—and what capable, creative hands! Thank you to those who provided valuable contributions on all things nautical—from the anatomy of boats to the physics of anchors!

Brent Ray
first launched the idea of providing a book on hope to help a sea of people live an anchored life.

Elizabeth Cunningham, Jill Prohaska, Barbara Spruill,
and
Keith Wall
skillfully buoyed the manuscript with countless ideas, rewrites, and edits.

Angie White
ran a tight ship to deliver the right cargo to the right port.

Bea Garner, Jeanne Sloan, Beth Stapleton, Connie Steindorf, Carolyn White,
Karen Williams, Laura Lyn Benoit,
and
Phillip Bleecker
—awash in an ocean of manuscript versions—continued proofing, reviewing, keying, and checking from stem to stern until journey’s end.

Josh Dennis
and
Ben Parail
floated one cover image after another until we sailed into the sunset.

Titus O’Bryant
battened down the hatches on citations and research.

Kay Deakins
faithfully cleared the decks for me so this project could stay afloat.

Al Fisher
at Crossway trusted me to weather the storms of writing in spite of several setbacks, and
Ted Griffin
kept the wind in the sails of the manuscript after it left our hands.

And I must add that
Jesus
has been my strong, personal Anchor. Because of His life in me, I have
an anchored life
. He is why I have unbreakable, unshakable
hope for my heart
.

Confession is good for the soul, and I have a whopper: I named our biblical counseling ministry Hope For The Heart . . . I often tell callers on our call-in radio broadcast,
Hope In The Night
, to “hang on to
hope
” . . . I have taught Bible studies on the topic of
hope
. . . and I have an office chock-full of mementos bearing the word
hope
. Yet, for years if you had asked me point-blank, “June, what
is
hope?” I couldn’t have told you!

Oh, I had a definition of hope, but that’s not the same as having a handle on hope.

Back then, hope was an elusive concept to me . . . cloud-like . . . impossible to grab hold of. Sure, I was familiar with Scriptures like Romans 5:5 that say, “Hope does not disappoint us.” But still the word
hope
, in and of itself, is always inspiring! It is encouraging, heartening, and reassuring. Hope is something we all want . . . and something we all
need
. But. . . .

Hope is what every mountain climber possesses at the bottom of the mountain. Imagine looking up at the tallest peak, believing,
With
enough determination I can make it to the top
!

Imagine starting out at the bottom of the mountain
full of hope
. You begin to ascend step by step and traverse from side to side . . . and soon you find yourself on a severe slope, still
holding on to hope
. As you plant your foot, the rock gives way and your foot slips . . . you start to slide, reach out, grab hold of a bush . . . and now you’re
hanging on to hope
!

After once again getting your footing, each step brings you closer to the top until finally you see the summit. You ascend to the top and experience
hope fulfilled
!

That’s the outcome for which every mountain climber
hopes
. But the truth is, this kind of hope is not enough; it’s not assured. A successful climb is
not guaranteed
, regardless of how much hope a climber may have. Accidents happen. Equipment fails. People die.
Even
though we all want to be hopeful, what can we actually count on?
I wondered.
What can we stake our lives on?

I lived with these baffling questions for decades . . . until 2006, when God graciously began to connect the dots. It started as I prepared to teach a
Hope Biblical Counseling Institute
for nine hours on the topic of . . . you guessed it . . . hope!

During the
Institute
, I expected to explain “definitions, characteristics, causes, and steps to solutions” before an audience of pastors, counselors, teachers, and other interested individuals. There was just one problem. How could I ever
hope
to teach something I didn’t fully understand myself?

So I called my pastor . . . a brilliant, scholarly man who had at one time headed a major denomination. “June,” he confided, “you have your hands full this time. In my opinion hope is the hardest topic to preach on. It’s elusive . . . difficult to describe . . . hard to handle.”

Next I checked with a professor at one of the country’s leading seminaries. “It’s one of the hardest topics anyone can ever speak on,” he told me. “When you try to separate hope from the topic you need hope for . . . like hope for marriage or hope for finances or hope for overcoming addictions . . . you’re left with a major challenge. It’s like trying to catch the wind.”

Undaunted, I continued to interview, read, and research, surveying every single verse in Scripture having anything to do with the word or concept of hope. During this process I reread Hebrews 6:19: “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” And that’s when it hit me. . . .

Hope is an anchor! And anchors are tangible. I figured that if I understood anchors, they would help me understand hope.

That hopeful realization launched me on a voyage to learn everything I could about anchors. I researched anchors . . . asked seafaring friends about anchors . . . read books about anchors . . . studied diagrams of anchors. Sure enough, what had once been as murky as the depths of a churning ocean slowly began to grow clear.

Everyone needs an anchor.

A famous and rather amusing quote by Benjamin Franklin reads, “In this life nothing is certain but death and taxes.”

I’d like to add one more certainty to the list: storms.

I’m not thinking about literal storms with thunder and lightning and gale-force winds, although they are just as certain as death and taxes. I am referring to those heavy, dark clouds that roll into our lives and unleash torrents of trouble and trauma.

These storms can be like squalls, suddenly and powerfully blowing in setbacks and sorrow. They contain downpours that can saturate our days with disappointment and devastating heartache.

Failure . . . betrayal . . . abuse . . . disaster . . . death . . . the list of potential storms could go on and on, and there’s not one of us who at some time or another hasn’t felt swept away by them.

Through my research, reading, and prayer, God graciously granted me a life-changing discovery: The hope that is discussed so extensively in the Bible has nothing to do with crossing our fingers and hoping for the best.
Authentic biblical hope is a powerful, undergirding force—an anchor
able to
sustain us through the fiercest storms
.

Men and women down through the centuries have clung to biblical hope when barraged by the biting winds and tumultuous tides of life’s storms. And the world simply watched in amazement when knees didn’t buckle and faith didn’t quaver.

That’s because
biblical
hope is based on the promises of God
. In fact, the biblical writers applied hope to a considerable number of situations and circumstances and watched God move in miraculous ways.

So what about you? What’s your situation as you open this book? Maybe you are in the midst of a violently swirling storm that you feel is about to take you under. Perhaps you’re trying to help someone else weather a storm. Or could it be that you’ve been through some storms with hurricane-force winds and want to be prepared for the ones brewing just over the horizon?

Whatever the case, this book is all about the one resource that will hold you steady and keep you standing when the storms of life engulf you emotionally, physically, and spiritually. It is not only a resource, it is a gift . . . given by God’s outstretched hand to you. And that gift is
hope
.

In the chapters ahead we’ll explore the depths of this essential virtue and closely examine its vital role in holding us fast when life’s storms rumble and rage. Along the way I believe you’ll come to see that when you have authentic biblical hope you will have something no person or situation can ever take away—you will have
an anchored life
.

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. (Heb. 6:19)

Years ago I received a phone call asking for help. “June, I have a niece in her thirties who moved here from Florida. She works at a hospital . . . she’s single and really needs friends. Do you have any ideas?”

“Well, I teach a Bible study for singles,” I answered, “and we’re like a family. In fact, we don’t even take spring or summer breaks or stop for holidays; that’s how much we value and support one another. I teach a group on Sunday mornings at my church, and then on Tuesday evenings we meet at my home. About sixty to eighty come from all over the area. We’d love to have her join us.”

Her aunt was elated, and the following evening Sandra walked through the door of my home and into my life.

She became a consistent part of our regular group, enjoying the inductive Bible study, and she was growing spiritually. As she absorbed more biblical truth, I began to see a change in her.

Tuesday evenings fell into a pattern: The end of our music/message time ushered in the warm glow of our food/fellowship time. It was understood that anyone could stay longer for deeper conversation, which sometimes stretched into the wee hours. One evening Sandra waited until everyone else had trickled out. As we sat on the couch, her expression turned to one of distress. “June, I don’t know what to do. I’ve been having these horrible flashbacks.”

“What kind of flashbacks?” I probed.

“Oh, they’re . . . bad,” she whispered.

“Are they sexual?”

Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “Yes.”

Seeing she was on the verge of tears, I reached out and gently took her hand. Several moments passed in silence as she struggled to collect her thoughts.

Sandra swallowed hard. Then slowly, haltingly she began pouring out her pain. For more than a month she had been flooded with disturbing, disgusting images of being sexually abused by her father. Many different scenes played in her mind like a vile movie . . . so real, so lurid, so sordid. She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone, but her secret had become too much to bear.

“June, I think I’m . . . losing my mind,” she shuddered, tears spilling from her eyes.

The sexual victimization in her early childhood had caused a repression of painful memories. This phenomenon, called dissociation, is not uncommon as the mind puts up a protective barrier to shield the child victim from the excruciating pain of traumatic experiences. Typically many years, even decades, pass before the buried memories begin to surface. Often people in their late twenties and thirties begin to have flashbacks of past trauma.

“I feel like I’m walking right on the edge,” she told me. “One slip and I’m going over.”

“Sandra, you can get back on solid ground,” I assured her.

Sandra had up to that point functioned quite well. She worked successfully as a medical professional and had a moderate social life. But now the more her memories stirred, the more her emotions erupted. Sandra’s heart was flooded with feelings of anger, betrayal, and anguish. Ultimately she felt
helpless
, knowing she couldn’t erase the past, and she felt
hopeless
, believing she had no future.