CONSIDER

But we had hoped . . . 

The cancer is back and with a vengeance.

But we had hoped . . . 

We lost the baby, and this was the third pregnancy.

But we had hoped . . . 

The bank is going to foreclose on the house, and there’s no way out.

But we had hoped . . . 

Our daughter has a mental illness and is off the rails and not coming back this time.

But we had hoped . . . 

Our son is in jail for ten more years of a twenty-year sentence. 

But we had hoped . . .

My husband is leaving me for another man.

But we had hoped . . .

My wife is addicted to drugs and alcohol and will not stop lying about it. 

But we had hoped . . .

Our son took his own life in the face of a very promising path ahead. 

But we had hoped . . .

The bank is not going to carry over our crop loans another year. We’re done. 

But we had hoped . . .

Our son and his wonderful family are being deported after decades here, and no one can help. 

But we had hoped . . .

We lost everything in the fire, and the insurance company is not paying.

But we had hoped . . .

The mild memory loss is turning into full-blown early-onset dementia. 

But we had hoped . . .

Another disappointing relationship, and I have still not found my spouse. 

But we had hoped . . .

My dream job turned out to be a nightmare, and I have no idea what to do. 

But we had hoped . . .

My best friend and right-hand man at the company lost his life in a tragic accident. 

But we had hoped . . .

Every single situation named represents a real person who wakes up with us every single morning. We are all walking together on that road to Emmaus—which is simply the place we are hanging our hat at the end of these hard days—the place we call home. 

We prayed and fasted and pleaded and did everything we knew to do. We had hoped God would redeem the situation, but it’s not turning out like we had hoped. 

Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things happened.

The death of hope is the hardest thing. The turning away from a desperately anticipated outcome is horrific. The letting go of a deeply desired future is devastating. 

As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; (24:15 NIV)

It’s what he does, because that’s who he is. He comes up and walks along with us. Right here and right now, he is walking along with you. But where? You ask. He has hidden himself in the ones who love him all around you. Could he be writing and speaking these very words? 

 . . . but they were kept from recognizing him. (24:16 NIV)

Grief can be so destabilizing that it blinds us to everything but loss. 

Why is it so hard to see and experience Jesus in these disappointments? Often it’s because we so deeply connected our hoped-for outcome to him that we can no longer separate his presence from our hope. This is how our hopes can blind us to our Hope. 

Meanwhile, he’s walking up on us now. He’s ready to enter our conversation. He’s ready to hold our broken hopes and heal our broken hearts. He has come to walk us home, back to Emmaus, and into the new thing he is doing and the new day he is dawning—as hard to believe as this may sound. He has come to walk us home. 

And, friends, that’s what he’s doing in and with us as we walk along this long, hard road of life. We are walking each other home. 

Let’s give our two friends from Emmaus the last word today:

 . . . it is now the third day since these things happened.

Yes, it’s still the third day. And I am shifting from “we had hoped,” to “I now hope in you, Jesus, alone.” 

PRAY

Lord Jesus, thank you for holding our broken hopes. We put them in your hands now. I put my broken hopes in your hands now. I receive your healing for my broken heart. You are the new thing, Jesus. You are the new day. You are the resurrection and the life. You are better than my best hopes. You are my all. And I put my hope and my hopes in you alone. For your glory. For others’ gain. For my good. And in your name, amen. 

JOURNAL

Did you see yourself in this list of broken hopes? How might your particular hope be obscuring your view and vision of Jesus? What might letting go of lesser hopes look like? What might taking hold of our great hope look like? Who are you walking home today? Who is Jesus identifying for you to walk along the road with today? 

SING

Today, we will sing “Open My Eyes, That I May See” (hymn 311) from our Seedbed hymnal, Our Great Redeemer’s Praise.

For the Awakening,

J. D. Walt

John David (J. D.) Walt Jr. is the Sower-in-Chief for Seedbed and the pastor of the Gillett Methodist Church in Gillett, Arkansas. 

Subscribe to get this in your inbox daily, and please share this link with friends.