Love never fails. ~ I Cor 13:8

This is quite an amazing phrase to ponder. Can it really be true that love always succeeds? Even when we’ve been rejected despite our best efforts to love? What does it actually mean that “love never fails”?

Let’s look at the evidence to support this statement. Here is how I reason why God and love are sure to win in the end:

Love aligns itself with truth. It sees clearly. Paul says that “Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth” (I Cor. 13:6). However, evil is blinded by lies. The farther a person travels into sin, the more the inner eye becomes clouded and the more he or she distorts reality. You see this with addicts, for example.

Hitler, Napoleon, and Alexander the Great, in blind arrogance and pride, all made serious tactical errors that stopped them in their mad rush to conquer the world.
Likewise, Satan’s pride, hatred and rage which drove him to kill Jesus, kept him from seeing that he was actually setting up his own defeat. Because his evil nature always distorts truth, he was unable to even remotely comprehend how Christ’s death might bring down the kingdom of hell. In case you doubt Satan’s lack of knowledge here, remember that he was a fallen angel. Even faithful angels have trouble understanding salvation and “long to look into these things” (I Peter 1:12).

Like Hitler and Napoleon, will not the Beast and the AntiChrist ultimately make similar mistakes in their battle against God? Given their natures, it’s not possible they will retain clear judgment in the long run. God will prevail because He is Truth; He is the ultimate Reality and therefore cannot make errors. And if God wins, love wins because God is love.

This logic may help us see why God’s love wins, but how can we apply this truth to our own disappointing experiences, when it appears that all our efforts to love somehow make no difference? The promise that “love never fails” does not mean that faithfully loving God’s way will magically produce the results we want. No one loved like Jesus, and He ended up rejected. However, His defeat brought about the greatest triumph in the history of mankind. As we walk with our Lord, cannot our defeats-despite-faithfulness when loving someone be gloriously redeemed as well?

So when Paul writes that love never fails, we see a new depth to this truth and its possibilities. This should greatly encourage us in our daily lives. We can become “weary in doing good,” especially when faced with much opposition. However, the pure beauty of agape love is never diminished or cheapened by ridicule, rejection, or false accusations. When love is the real thing, it’s untouchable in the spiritual realm, a priceless gem, indestructible. Such love can never be sullied, cheapened, or degraded by how it is treated.

For all who struggle to love a prodigal child or a difficult relative or feel that they are failing in some relationship despite their best efforts before God, take heart. Your efforts are surely not in vain because somehow contained in the mystery of God Himself…love cannot help but win.

But I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me. (Psalm 131:2)

Humility. Trust. No longer questioning things for which there will never be an answer. No more wrestling with mysteries that can’t be solved. No more striving to be something we’re not.

Young children already live like this. They don’t pretend to have knowledge. They don’t concern themselves with adult matters. They’re not worried about meeting their needs for shelter, food, clothes. And so they are able to live carefree and at rest.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). In order to rest, we must be able to trust implicitly, like a little child. The picture the Psalmist gives is of a weaned child. No longer clamoring for food that is coming anyway. No longer screaming for needs to be met. Now! Assured that all will come in due time. Stilled.

A weaned child with its mother . . . Content to know mother is near. Is it enough to know our heavenly Father is near?

When I think of Christmas, I think of my Mom. She put her whole heart and soul into making this holiday special for us kids. Dad helped too. So this post is not only a nostalgic tribute to simpler times, but a tribute to my parents as well.

Money came hard yet Mom was resourceful and creative with what she had. A little flour, sugar and eggs, scraps of fabric, needle and thread, candles and pine boughs from the tree in the yard. Year after year she managed to create a magical Christmas for my siblings and me.

One of my earliest memories is of Advent when Christmas preparations began in my home. Mom made Dad go outside and cut swags from our tree. I watched as she wove the pine-scented greenery into a wreath, added four red candles and then attached four red ribbons to suspend it from the ceiling, a German tradition.

My mother’s baking was legendary. All December she stood in the kitchen baking Pfeffernusskuchen, Anisebroetchen, Totenbeinli—prized recipes she brought with her when she immigrated. I loved how these and other goodies wafted their aromatic scent throughout the house.

She made beautiful cookie tins from empty coffee cans saved all year. She covered the cans with gold foil, added a bright bow on top and voila, you had a lovely gift for a neighbor. Neighbors and friends always welcomed her specialty cookies.

The holiday season was when my mother went out of her way to show kindness to those less fortunate. For example, each year she went out of her way to visit her previous landlord in town. Mom brought us kids for this mission—I have this image of me an eight-year-old in pigtails, my younger dimple-cheeked brother, and our three-year-old sister who, to everyone’s relief, was finally sprouting some downy blonde fuzz on her head.

Mr. Valdez would greet us at the door with his two snuffling bull dogs who always frightened me a little. He’d invite us in and we’d greet his wife’s caregiver, a cheerful, rosy-cheeked middle-aged woman.

Mrs. Valdez suffered from advanced multiple sclerosis. I remember being ushered into her bedroom where she lay frail and helpless, a nearly paralyzed, dark-haired woman in her fifties with sunken cheeks, anguished eyes, and unintelligible speech.

We’d present the cookie tin with shy smiles. Mrs. Valdez’s eyes would light up and she’d make strained sounds to communicate. And then as we began singing a Christmas carol, the sounds would turn to choking and moaning noises, and tears would roll down her cheeks. As she kept trying to speak, I felt my own throat tighten. Mom going out of her way to bring a little joy to someone easily forgotten modeled such an important lesson in compassion to us children.

Every evening Mom led us in a little devotional as Dad worked swing shift those early years. During Advent Mom helped us memorize scripture verses in preparation for Christmas Eve and then led us in singing carols: Stille Nacht. O Du Froehliche. Ihr Kinderlein Kommet. Then it would be bedtime. We had this children’s storybook, and my baby sister could never be persuaded to go to her room without first kissing the picture of King David goodnight.

My mother left behind family and friends when she came to this newly adopted country. With money too scarce to travel, it would be fifteen years after she immigrated before my Mom got the chance to visit Germany and Switzerland again.

During Advent, after we children were tucked in bed, Mom sat at her desk and wrote letters to friends and family, around sixty holiday letters a year. And no newsletters for her either. Each loved one received personalized updates according to what she thought would interest them, and she always made caring inquiries into their lives as well.

In the evenings when she wasn’t writing, she was busy at the sewing machine making doll clothes, Christmas presents for my sister and me. She and Dad worked hard in crafting decorations or gifts. Once my father built a little church with a steeple out of balsa wood, using translucent red wrapping paper for stained glass windows. After he placed a bulb in the church and turned it on, it glowed. This became a treasured Christmas decoration in our family.

My dad’s most distinguished Christmas creation, however, were the outdoor candles that graced our front door. He painted sturdy cardboard cylinders bright red and rigged light bulbs for the flames, arranging pine boughs tastefully around the base. Mom oohed and ahhed, and we kids joined in.

Last Christmas I went home and there stood the candles in their usual place by the front door. I stopped to marvel, really seeing them for the first time in years. “Wow, Dad, this is amazing—your candle decoration must be at least 40 years old now!”

“Well, I paint it occasionally to keep it looking fresh,” Dad said.

“It still looks great!” I said, smiling my admiration. Dad took the compliment with a quiet dignified nod of his head.

My parents are in their eighties and Dad will turn 90 next February. As I think about their lives, I am so grateful for the heritage they gave us. They modeled how to live with joyous resourcefulness, giving with all their hearts.

Most of all I am grateful for the gift of a loving home. We children always knew we were very much wanted and deeply loved. I can think of no greater riches.

And now you know why I get sentimental about homemade Christmases…

I really like what Deb Allen wrote at Creation Speaks and wanted to share it with you.

www.heartscribeforhim.com/CreationSpeaks2011.htm#110711

However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven. Luke 10:20

The disciples’ success came because the power of God worked through them. So quickly we take credit for what God actually did!

This verse has often reminded me how easily I slip into a wrong focus. It’s a caution against getting caught up in self-importance, Look what I just did! It’s a perspective on the truth about any accomplishment but in particular, ministry.

Now what’s wrong with being excited about success in ministry? After all, look what God did through us!

Maybe your church put on an outreach to the skateboarding community and 10 kids were saved. Or you prayed for a friend and she was healed. Or you headed up a campaign to raise enough money to build a new homeless shelter in your community.

But Jesus says, “Keep your eyes on what the real miracle is—you were lost, but now you’re found.” The joy should come not in what you do, but in the gift given—citizenship in heaven.”

Sometimes the joy of salvation seems so Christianity 101, so basic that it feels more like the milk of beginners than the meat of mature Christians. But precisely this childlike faith, joy in the gift and the Giver rather than joy in self, is a characteristic of the mature believer.

The Bible says that where our treasure is, there our hearts will be also. If salvation is truly my most prized treasure, I will not so easily succumb to the idolatry of self-worship.

When it comes to prayer, wouldn’t it be convenient to plug in the right formula and ka-ching, out comes the answer we want? Sometimes, even though I know better, I catch myself pondering how to approach God “more effectively.” I’m a creature of conditioned response mechanisms. Like the behaviorist’s pigeons, I act as if I need to figure out how many times to peck at the heavenly lever before the universe responds to my needs.

Most of us, if we’ve been Christians for a while, understand that God is no geni. We trust His sovereign control and at the same time believe that He wants a real relationship with us, that He listens when we pour out our hearts to Him. But I’ve seriously questioned: Do I have genuine input; am I really being heard? Or am I just a pawn in God’s cosmic game with the universe?

For me it’s come down to faith. Believing that God is good. Believing that He’s in control. Believing that the “prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective” (James 5:16b). And letting go of the need to figure it all out so I can simply live these truths from the heart.

How does this work on a practical level? I want to share some thoughts with you that are still formulating in my mind, so they are not perfectly organized or fully developed. However, these are thought processes that have helped my prayer life.

When thinking about prayer, it’s been most helpful to me to reflect on Christ as the head of the church, husband to bride. As I read the Bible’s instructions to men on how to interact with their wives, an image of Jesus emerges. These instructions must somehow reflect His bridegroom’s heart toward me as well:

Husband, love your wife just as I loved [insert your name] and gave myself up for her.

Husband, love your wife as you do your own body as I love [insert your name] as my own body.

Husband, love your wife and do not be harsh with her as I love [insert your name] and am never harsh with her.

Submit to one another out of reverence for me as I submit to the Father out of reverence for Him. Scriptures from Ephesians and Colossians.

Despite God’s reassuring words here, we women may still struggle in relating to Jesus as our bridegroom. We may not have experienced the perfect husband (who has?) or may have had some very negative relationships with men in the past. What kind of fears might we unconsciously transfer to the Lord?

• We may fear being controlled by our husband.
• We may fear that he won’t treat us like an equal.
• We may be concerned that he won’t be considerate of our limitations.
• We may fear that he won’t act in ours or the children’s best interest.
• We may be afraid that our husband will make important decisions without consulting us.
• We may fear that he will be harsh or unkind.
• We may fear his anger.

Do any of these resonate with you? You could probably add to this list. Do any of your fears transfer to the Lord? We might see God’s sovereignty as controlling instead of being in control with our best interests at heart. When God doesn’t answer our prayers right away, we may accuse Him of not caring. When bad things happen we may believe that God is harsh and unkind. Our experiences take place in a fallen world under less than ideal conditions, and this impacts our view of God.

As I began to picture the ideal biblical husband, I saw how I had bought into lies and distortions about God. Let me show you what I mean by attempting to define a godly husband. Keep in mind this is a limited conception, just a sketch hampered by subjectivity and cultural assumptions. However, this mental process did lead to some fruitful insights:

A godly husband would lead, not lord it over his wife. Never out of pride or selfishness would He say, “It’s my way or the highway.” He would serve the family’s best interests unselfishly. In order to serve effectively, He’d know how to listen, to really be able to hear his wife’s heart, not just her words. He would take her opinions seriously, allowing himself to be influenced. He would take responsibility for making final decisions, but he’d want his wife involved in the process. He would be extremely loyal and faithful in heart, mind, and body. At all times, He would think of his family and how his actions affect them.

Like I said, this is my vision of a godly husband, shaped by scripture. Why not write your own definition and see what this reveals about your picture of God? Be sure to write your sketch around Biblical principles of husband-wife relationships.

As I pondered my definition, I asked myself, Does Jesus invite me to talk with Him and then essentially relegates my words meaningless because he has no intention of ever considering my viewpoint? Most of us believe that this is not how good relationships work. When God gave us the picture of bride and bridegroom, or father and son, wasn’t He giving us a healthy model of reciprocal intimacy so that we’d understand how to relate to Him better? An authoritarian model does not fit with this image.

When wrestling with prayer, we get hung up on the tension between God’s sovereignty and our free will; however, I’ve decided to tackle this conundrum in strictly practical terms. I no longer need to understand how prayer works—how can a mere human ever figure this out anyway? Instead, I want to focus on doing what the Bible tells me, trusting the whys and hows to God. There are many commands that tell me to pray. Pray without ceasing, for example.

The image of bridegroom gave me a most helpful framework in understanding the Lord’s good intentions toward me when I pray:

I now choose to approach Him at the very least as I would a loving husband—one who invites me to eat my meal at his table, not relegated to another room as in some cultures, to walk side by side, not following several paces behind as a demeaned, undervalued possession. I choose to believe that He will take my input on important matters seriously, that He truly hears my heart. I come knowing He is irrevocably and forever bound to me, with a completely loyal heart. I believe that He’s in control, not selfishly controlling, that at all times my loved ones and I will be foremost in His mind, and that He carefully considers how His actions affect us.

Unlike an earthly union, we are not equal partners with God. And our prayers need a Spirit-translation before they reach our heavenly husband’s ears. But Jesus always elevates those He loves as when He said to his disciples, “I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you” (John 15:15). Now there’s another picture to study as you think about how to approach God in prayer: Friend!

“If your brother or sister sins against you, rebuke them; and if they repent, forgive them. Even if they sin against you seven times in a day and seven times come back to you saying ‘I repent,’ you must forgive them.” The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” (Luke 17:3-5)

With such a steep standard of forgiveness, no wonder the disciples said in essence, “If this is the way things are, we need more faith!”

Why does forgiveness take faith?

First, we have to believe that when we release the offender, we can be okay. We’re essntially saying, “I trust You, Lord, to take care of my needs.” For example, imagine a woman deeply hurt by divorce. She now lives in poverty but sees that her ex buys an expensive home and takes his girlfriend on exotic vacations to places like Hawaii and Europe. She feels all the hard work she invested in her twenty-five years of marriage have left her with nothing. Will she find faith to believe that God will provide good things for her as well? That her life is valued and important even though she’s been rejected, replaced, and left destitute? That God alone is enough? Without this kind of faith, forgiveness would be very difficult.

Second, it takes faith to believe that God will act justly when we’ve brought Him our case. Romans 12:19 says,

Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord.

Forgiveness takes faith because justice may be delayed. Not until the end, on Judgment Day, will God make all things right. However, when it appears that offenders are not held accountable, we secretly fear that God won’t judge; He won’t be fair. After all, we are well-acquainted with His mercy.

Jonah felt this way. He got so frustrated with God he wanted to die:

“Isn’t this what I said, LORD, when I was still at home? That is what I tried to forestall by fleeing to Tarshish. I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity. Now, LORD, take away my life, for it is better for me to die than to live.”

It takes faith to forgive because this means we accept that God has a right to extend mercy to our offender. However, if we understand that the blood of Jesus bought mercy for us, why shouldn’t His sacrifice provide mercy for our offender when he repents?

As we can see, forgiveness is risky in the sense that we have no guarantee that our offender will be held accountable in the way we might demand. God asks us to trust Him completely with the right to judge and to sentence.

If we don’t like this, what’s the alternative? Carrying around the offense. All the time. Decaying on the inside as the shell of bitterness hardens more and more each year. Living in despair and hopelessness.

It is infinitely better to forgive than to rot in resentment. If releasing someone is a struggle, why not pray like the disciples: “Lord, increase my faith!”

By Ruth Wood

Every evening I turn my worries over to God. He’s going to be up all night anyway. ~ Mary C. Crowley

We smile at this quote. How much we would like to be able to unload grief in such a nonchalant way as well. But dealing with grief feels more challenging because grief is primarily about loss. And there are many different kinds of losses. Certainly losing a loved one is heartbreaking, but we also grieve loss of health, or financial set-backs, or estranged relationships.

Scripture

King David wrote Psalm 23 and made this astounding statement:

Even though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

When you’re in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, when you’re going through grief, it can feel like you’re walking a living death because the Valley of Shadows is: (1) a place that’s dark (2) a place we feel alone, and (3) a place that feels hopeless. Let’s look at how this wonderful psalm models how to deal with grief.

First, grief is a place that’s dark.

In the Valley of Shadows we see shapes and outlines, but things are not clear; we can’t see far ahead. In the uncertainty we can get disoriented. We imagine lurking things in the shadows and feel afraid.

David’s Losses

David knew what he was talking about. He was continually hunted by King Saul who was trying to kill him. Imagine the FBI hunting you down. You wouldn’t feel like you’d have much of a chance of survival. Well, Saul and his troops were like the FBI in David’s day. Death continually stalked him; it was continually lurking nearby. David was dealing not only with the loss of personal safety, but the loss of his career as Israel’s top army commander, the loss of his community, the loss of fellowship with his best friend, Jonathan, and the loss of family—Saul had even given his wife to another man. And yet he was able to say about this dark time in his life: “Though I walk through the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil.”

As incredible as it seems, according to David, it’s possible to go through the valley, or grief, with your fear in check.

Second, grief is a place where we can feel very alone.

Perhaps the main reason we feel alone in times of grief is because pain is isolating. Worst of all, it can isolate us from God.

About twenty years ago my marriage was in trouble. In fact, we were on the brink of divorce. We did stay married and will celebrate our thirtieth anniversary this year. But at the time it was a terrible valley. I was upset that God was allowing such pain in my life, and I wondered if He cared about me at all. It felt like He’d abandoned me.

A Story

One day the kids were playing outside when suddenly my five-year-old son came running into the house with both knees terribly scraped up. Screaming. You know how your kid’s pain pierces the heart of a mom. Your stomach lurches and you get caught up in their emotion. Well, I rushed toward him, but he didn’t seem to see me and ran straight to his room.

I followed to find him writhing in agony on the bed. But when I bent to help him, I was shocked that his crying only increased and he flailed at me, acting as if was personally responsible for wounding his knees. I was a bit offended, but this behavior was out of character for my son. I’d never seen him so out of his mind with pain. It wasn’t until he calmed down that I was able to apply my usual remedy for skinned knees—I drew a nice warm soapy bath and put him in it.

Later that day, the Lord began to talk to me. “Ruth, did you see yourself today? You’ve been wondering where I am in all your pain and misery. I’ve been right here…waiting. And don’t you think my heart has ached for you all this time the way yours did for your son?” That day I stopped blaming God for not being there for me.

The lesson

It’s important to understand that you may not be able to feel God’s presence at all when grief is most intense. It may take a long time to calm down before you’re in a place where you can receive His comfort, where you can listen. But I learned an important lesson that day: How needlessly we add to our pain by falling for the enemy’s lie that God’s not there or that He doesn’t care. David walked in confidence, “Even though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow I will fear no evil. Why? Because You are with me.”

Third, grief is a place where we’re tempted to despair of hope.

Grief can feel like our worst enemy. Here’s an excerpt from a poem titled Sorrow:

Late one cold winter’s night I was sitting by a cozy fire
When I heard a knock and hurried to the door
I didn’t know what to say to the stranger cloaked in gray
But her face shook me to the core
Without a word she stepped inside
Without a word put out the fire
And I cried out, “Your message can’t be true,”
But a cold north wind blew
I followed her from room to room
As she quickly spread her dismal gloom
Oh, I knew my life would never be the same
I got down on my knees and pleaded with the powers that be
But nothing, nothing changed
Then with an empty heart I climbed in bed
And with an empty heart, lay down my head
And she sang her song to me
They call me Sorrow, Sorrow,
I am a friend though you see me as your Foe!
Sorrow, Sorrow…

©2010 Ruth Wood. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

A banquet

Yes, sorrow is our enemy but she can become a friend of sorts. David said, “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” How is it possible to see anything good when grief feels like such a bitter enemy?

What David is saying is that despite the darkness and pressures he was under, God provided rich nourishment to sustain him through his troubles. I have experienced this too. In seasons of great heartache is when the Lord has fed me the best morsels of truth and insight. And because of this I can be thankful for Sorrow. I don’t have to like her, but I can appreciate her “helping role” in my life.

Hope

So if you’ve been experiencing darkness, isolation or despair, take heart. God is there; He does care, even if your feelings scream otherwise. He will see you through this Valley of Shadows. And you will come to know Him even better as your Good Shepherd.

Prayer:

Lord, thank you that you are the Good Shepherd. You are the one who makes us lie down in green pastures, who leads us beside quiet waters, who restores our souls after we have walked through the valley. Thank you that we need fear no evil knowing you are always with us. In Jesus name. Amen.

Sometimes we need something to bring us up short. To remind us that there is a cost to discipleship.

When focused on just our own lives—staying in touch with the next technology, putting in our 40-hour work week, worrying about how to juggle our kids’ sports schedules—it’s easy to lose perspective, to have no inkling how easy our lives really are in comparison with most of the world.

The Challenge

Dr. Paul went with Voice of the Martyrs to Nigeria to treat victims of persecution. The experience really shook him up, but also opened his eyes. These are his comments quoted in VOM’s magazine, January 2011 edition:

We need [our persecuted] brothers and sisters. Let me clarify how I think about this. We live in a country this is very unique in the world today. We read our Bibles, and we go to Sunday school class, and some of us are even involved in outreaches, and we give to missions… When you are going home from work in Nigeria and you are a Christian, it is very possible that you may not come home at night. But it is possible to come home at night even if you are caught, if you are willing to say, “Allah is god and Mohammed is his prophet.”

Think about your family at home, and imagine that you are on your way home and you are stopped by a mob of vicious people saying, “Repeat after me or die.” Suddenly I realize our faith may be fairly broad theologically, but it is not all that deep sometimes. These people, they don’t know a lot of answers to Bible stories, and they probably can’t give a good discussion on why Arminianism and Calvinism are right or wrong. But I can tell you that when people step up to them with a gun or a knife, and they are asked, “Will you repeat after me?” and they say, “No, Jesus is Lord,” their theology is very deep and we need that. I need that.

My Response

Do you ever wonder how you would respond if YOUR life were on the line? We have a hard time relating to these kinds of pressures because freedom of speech still protects Americans. But if we think that physical persecution cannot happen here, I’m afraid we’re wrong. Now is the time to sink the roots of faith deep into the soil of the Word of God. Now is the time to learn what it means to pray, to do spiritual battle on our knees. We don’t know if the status quo can hold. Someday the future may present extreme national challenges on an unprecedented scale. But even if not, personal crises can just as easily unhinge us. Wisdom advises us to prepare. Not in fear and panic. But in the calm confidence of a soldier who faithfully trains and remains alert. Because in life, the winds of change never stop blowing.

Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark. ~ George Iles

Hal Lindsey said, “Man can live about forty days without food, about three days without water, about eight minutes without air, but only for one second without hope.” This statement may be a dramatic exaggeration, but it illustrates how hope is essential to our survival. Victor Frankl, a prisoner in the concentration camps of World War II, observed that those who lost hope, died very quickly.

The brightest light for me as I’ve sought hope in dark times has been the Word of God. So for those of you looking for something to hang on to, I wanted to simply share some of my favorite verses on this subject in Psalms:

Scripture Verses

No one whose hope is in you will ever be put to shame…Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long. (Psalm 25:3a-5)

We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in you. (Psalm 33:20-22)

Why are you so downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. (Psalm 42:5-6)

Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. (Psalm 62:5-6)

You answer us with awesome deeds of righteousness, O God our Savior, the hope of all the ends of the earth and of the farthest seas. (Psalm 65:5)

For you have been my hope, O Sovereign Lord, my confidence since my youth…But as for me I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more. (Psalm 71:5, 14)

Remember your word to your servant, for you have given me hope. My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life. (Psalm 119:49-50)

My soul faints with longing for your salvation, but I have put my hope in your word…You are my refuge and my shield; I have put my hope in your word…I rise before dawn and cry for help; I have put my hope in your word. (Psalm 119:81, 114, 147)

The Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love. (Psalm 147:11)

Prayer
Lord, when we are at the end of ourselves, we don’t know what to do, where to turn. We don’t know the answers. But you are a God of hope. We entrust ourselves to you. Show us the way out of distressing circumstances, give us the wisdom on how to deal with them, and fill us with your strength to endure one more hour, one more day. Thank you for hearing our prayers. In Jesus Name, amen.