If being broken is the price of remaining reliant on God, it's more than worth the price.
I watched The Village the other evening and I forgot how much I love that movie. The imagery, the music, and the beautiful truths that it shares. So many possibilities for object lessons. But the idea that is sticking out to me is the idea of seeing light when others can only see darkness. It's not easy to see hope all the time and in every situation, but I am trying to do so and I think recently I've been doing a pretty decent job of it.
And of course, because I think too much that reminds me of something else, and I'm probably leaving a few steps out (or maybe this is more evident), but it also reminds me of those Good Friday services Grace Point has each year. As the story of Christ's cruxifiction and death unfold, candles are extinguished one after another. Until that darkest of all moments, when Christ breathed his last and the final candle is snuffed leaving the room void of all light; the situation seemingly hopeless.
But then, that last candle is re-lit, because while it seemed all was lost, hope still remained.
The whole light representing hope is a common theme that is often woven into story lines. I think of the light Frodo is given in The Lord of the Rings. Harvey Dent's speech about how it's always darkest before the dawn in The Dark Knight.
The idea of hope is woven into the fabric of humanity.
But it's not always easy to see. Sometimes it seems diminished, even faded away all together. But it's not. There's always. Or at least there's always hope where it truly matters and it is needed the most.
I may not know how, or why, or when something will work out, but I see the hope. It's there. And I trust that God will bring it about in His timing, to His glory.
He is close to the brokenhearted. He'll restore hope. He'll shed light.
My heart's about to break;
I'm a burned-out case...
What I do, God, is wait for you,
wait for my Lord, my God—you will answer!
Psalm 38:10, 14 (The Message)
