I HAVE AN ADDICTION.
I think about the origin of the thoughts whispered so subtly into our hungry-for-something-more ears. Back, before a woman and a man and paradise and one simple ask from a Creator to simply pursue good conversation and walks in the cool of Eden’s afternoon. If you read scripture at all, you see that the “dependence on God is a curse rather than a gift—I can manage quite well on my own” mindset has been there since before the beginning. Nothing much has changed. Our questions about how God fits into this life aren’t that original or creative at all, honestly.
Our questions may look more like bold proclamations about those who have disappointed us or frayed our faith, or they may look like logical, pros-and-cons decisions made after headwinds of hurt or crosswinds of dissent and doubt knock us off our feet. But the theme has never changed. The enemy finds such great joy in tickling ears with the same question he’s been asking from the beginning. “If He is such a good God, then why would He not want you to have it all? He’s most assuredly a liar, a cheat, and a tyrant who finds His good pleasure in your lack of it.” We are encouraged to point fingers at places and people that caused us pain—and we are enticed to let hatred and unforgiveness within us ensnare us, even as we declare ourselves to be liberated.
Certainly it would be easy for me move in step with all the cynics and critics of divinity and to declare faith fraudulent—my journey has been fraught with pain, my body and soul have experienced abuse, and I’ve been taught every wrong thing about what it means to serve God and people. But here I am, for some reason still pressing forward and leaning in and finding strength and greater hope for me and for you. I have said that I’m hopelessly addicted to hope. It infuses the way my eyes see, the way my soul moves, the way the words fall on the page.
I can’t not hope. For me. And for you. We’re in this together, and these words are for you.