That thing, that call, that ministry, that movement, that baby, that future that God has put in you to carry; to birth into the Earth, is going to make you so uncomfortable. It's going to stretch you in ways you didn't know you could stretch. It's going to wake you up in the night with an ache in your side. It's going to cause every step that you take as the days go on to get heavier and feel more weighty. Your face will glow, but your appearance will change so drastically that all people will begin to see is the seed that was planted in you grow to a size that consumes you. Your heart will begin to pump two times the blood it once was able to handle. You will become so desperate for relief that like Jesus you will say, "Lord, let this cup pass from me." You will cry out and say, "God, I can't carry this anymore it's too hard."
There is an ache, a cry, a desperation in the heart of God for the people of the Earth. He longs to know us, to meet with us, to heal us and to simply hold us and be intimate with us. Since the fall of man and the separation from God took place in the garden, an ache has grown in the heart of God. Across centuries, across time, he has carried this weight, this desire to return to a place of intimate fellowship with us. He has placed this heart within His people, so that our hearts too would break for the lost, the broken, the hurting, the sick, the wretch, and the outcast. You are birthing hope into the Earth...
Hope is Painful! Wait? What do you mean? I need hope to get out of my painful situation! I need hope to stop the pain. This pain is killing my hope! In my deepest darkest situations in life something was born. Hope was born. In my lowest of low, the most painful places in me; I met hope there. When everything falls apart I can look at the ruins and say, "He will rebuild." When I truly can't take a step further, because I'm buckling under the pressure I can actually fall and know that He will carry me. I don't know if you can imagine the size I am right now at 34 weeks pregnant, but let's just say it's unsightly. It feels painful just to look at me... and I still have 6 weeks to go! I have this funny image in my head of that cliche story of the footprints in the sand where there are two footprints walking along the sands of life. One was mine and one was Jesus'. In my hardest moments there was only one set of footprints, so I questioned Jesus. "Why did you leave me to walk alone in my hardest moments?" He said, "I didn't leave you; in those moments I carried you!" Except all I can see in my head is my huge fat prego body awkwardly draped across the arms of Jesus as he struggles through the sand to carry me to the end of my pregnancy. I don't even know if my own husband could pick me up and carry me very far at this point.
In pregnancy and in the birthing of a new season or a new life there's a dying process that coincides with the birthing process. It is the death of self, the death of an old way of doing things, the death of outdated hopes and dreams, the death of the old man, the death of an old season or pattern of thinking. How do I know that He will rebuild when I look at ruins? Because demolition is always the first step of rebuilding. Until something breaks we often don't know how to look for the thing that needs to be fixed or even know that it needs fixing. When you already have a structure like a house or in our case we can say like the person of us, yet it's old, falling apart, weak, or otherwise not sustainable, you have to tear parts of it down. In some cases you have to completely level it. When something is being torn down it is the first sign of rebuilding.
My scripture theme for my life right now is "[...] His strength is made perfect in my weakness" 2 Corinthians 12:9 NKJV. The Passion translation says "[...] My power finds its full expression through your weakness." Hope is formed, captured and realized in your weakest moments in life. It grows up out of the deadness, the dryness, the loss. The greatest hope the world ever found was in that moment when Jesus hung on the cross and DIED. Don't be fooled to think hope is lost in death. For we know that He will rise again, He will come again. Every time something dies it carries a promise of resurrection. If you feel like things are falling apart, let them fall. If you feel like you're grasping to hold on to a life that's dying, let it die. If all you've ever known is disappearing before your eyes, let it vanish. If you've lost everything, don't go searching for what's gone. "[...] For he that loses his life for my sake shall find it." Matthew 10:39
When you go through 9 months of pregnancy and then birth an actual child it feels like everything that was you is gone. Your body is gone, your plans are gone, your privacy is gone, your time is gone, your choices are gone, your sleep is gone, and often your strength is gone...but what is born? Not only is a baby born, but a mother is born. Hope is not gone, hope has simply changed. Hope has revealed itself. Life takes on a new rhythm. Dreams change, visions change, plans change, methods change, and time management becomes your only hope for survival. Mothers, can I get a witness? Listen... Hope does not disappoint! Romans 5:3-6 says, "And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character, and character hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us. For when we were still without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly."
When I was still without strength...
when I was still weak
when I still couldn't pull it together
when I was still a blubbering mess
when I was still in the pit,
still broken,
still hurting,
still in pain...Christ died for me! That is Hope.
