by Max Lucado
Jesus encouraged his followers to “always pray and never lose hope” (Luke 18:1 NCV).
Never lose hope? Never be fainthearted? Never feel overwhelmed? Never get sucked into the sewer of despair? Can you imagine? No day lost to anguish. No decision driven by fear. This is God’s will for you and me. He wants us to “abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 15:13 NKJV).
Abound. What an extraordinary verb to use with “hope.”
For about half an hour last week, the sky became a waterfall. I had to pull my car off the road. Windshield wipers stood no chance against the downpour. Every square inch of the highway was drenched. Rain abounded. God will drench your world with hope.
I once spent a day in Yosemite forest. I could no more number the trees than I could count the stars. Tall ones, small ones. To the right and left. Behind me, before me. Yosemite abounded in trees. God will turn your world into a forest of hope.
I remember, as a child, walking through a cotton field near my grandparents’ home in West Texas. The farm abounded in cotton. I saw no end to it. North, south, east, west: puffy white balls on all sides. God will grant you a summer harvest of hope.
Could you use some abounding hope? Not occasional hope or sporadic hope or thermostatic hope, but abounding hope?
It’s yours for the asking. “Grab the promised hope with both hands and never let go. It’s an unbreakable spiritual lifeline, reaching past all appearances right to the very presence of God where Jesus, running on ahead of us, has taken up his permanent post as high priest for us” (Heb. 6:18–20 THE MESSAGE).
Ask yourself this key question: Is what I’m hooked to stronger than what I’ll go through?
Everyone is anchored to something. A retirement account or a résumé. Some are tethered to a person; others are attached to a position. Yet these are surface objects. Would you anchor your boat to another boat? Heaven forbid. You want something that goes deeper and holds firmer than other floating vessels. But when you anchor to the things of this world, are you not doing the same? Can a retirement account survive a depression? Can good health weather a disease? There is no guarantee.
Salty sailors would urge you to hook on to something hidden and solid. Don’t trust the buoy on the water, don’t trust the sailors in the next boat, and don’t trust the other boat. In fact, don’t even trust your own boat. When the storm hits, trust no one but God. The apostle Paul proclaimed it triumphantly: “we have put our hope in the living God” (1 Tim. 4:10).
People of the new beginning make daily decisions to secure their anchors in the promises of God. And while you are on your journey, I urge you to create a personal book of promises, one you and God can write together. Search and search until you find covenants that address your needs. Clutch them as the precious pearls they are; hide them in your heart so they can pay dividends long into the future. When the Enemy comes with his lies of doubt and fear, you can produce the pearl. Satan will be quickly silenced. He has no reply for truth.
They work, friend. The promises of God work. They can walk you through horrific tragedies. They can buoy you in the day-to-day difficulties. They are, indeed, the great and precious promises of God.
Russell Kelso Carter learned this truth. He was a gifted athlete and student. In 1864 at the age of fifteen, during a prayer meeting he surrendered his life to Christ. He became an instructor at the Pennsylvania Military Academy in 1869. He led a diverse and fruitful life that included stints as a minister, medical doctor, and even a songwriter. But it was his understanding of God’s promises that makes his story relevant to us.
By age thirty Carter had a critical heart condition and was on the brink of death. “Connie Ruth Christiansen writes: ‘He knelt and made a promise that healing or no, his life was finally and forever, consecrated to the service of the Lord.’ Christiansen goes on to say that from that moment on the Scripture took on new life for Carter and he began to lean on the promises that he found in the Bible. He committed himself to believe, whether or not God granted him healing. . . . Carter lived, with a healthy heart, for another 49 years.”1 His decision to trust God in the midst of difficulties gave birth to a hymn that is still sung today.
Standing on the promises of Christ my King,
Through eternal ages let His praises ring,
Glory in the highest, I will shout and sing,
Standing on the promises of God.
Refrain:
Standing, standing,
Standing on the promises of God my Savior;
Standing, standing,
I’m standing on the promises of God.
My favorite stanza is the second verse:
Standing on the promises that cannot fail,
When the howling storms of doubt and fear assail,
By the living Word of God I shall prevail,
Standing on the promises of God.2
Do the same.
Build your life on the promises of God. Since his promises are unbreakable, your hope will be unshakable. The winds will still blow. The rain will still fall. But in the end of your journey, you will be standing—standing on the promises of God.
chapter eleven
Choose Faith
He who promised is faithful.
—HEBREWS 10:23
I was comfortably seated in the exit row of the plane when a passenger coming down the aisle called my name. He was a tall, light-haired fellow who appeared to be about fifty years old and on a business trip. He introduced himself. Because of the chaos of boarding a flight, we couldn’t chat. But this much I gathered. He had heard me speak some years earlier, had appreciated my books, and would love to talk someday.
I returned the greeting and settled in for the trip. About an hour later I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned. It was the fellow who had greeted me in the aisle. He’d scribbled a message on a napkin and handed it to me.
Max,
Six summers ago Lynne and I buried our twenty-four-year-old daughter. This came about following a lake accident and two weeks on life support. We didn’t see this coming. How do you go on a summer vacation with four and come back home with three?
Friends, some of whom had buried precious children, rallied around our family. A country lawyer with his encouraging message that “God means you good, not harm” was one of those encouraging voices. Several of your books were given to Lynne and me . . .
We prayed for a miracle. I wanted her made new, her smile and brilliance restored. To unplug our daughter from life support was very, very hard. Although the decision was painful, we were confident that we were doing the right thing in laying her in the arms of a mighty God. He knew our pain.
His best work may not have been restoring Erin to this life but his assistance for Lynne and me to let him have her. He made our daughter better than new. He restored my Erin to his eternal presence. That is his best work!
This was not a lightweight hope. This was an assurance: “Let me have your Erin. I’ve got her now.”
God’s children reflecting the very nature of God became his presence around us. Our faith is getting us through this.
Faith is a choice.1
I read the napkin testimony several times. I wanted to know, How does this happen? How does a dad bury a daughter and believe, so deeply believe, that God meant him good not harm, that God had received his daughter in his loving arms, that God did his best work in the hearts of sorrow? The napkin could have easily borne a different message. One of anger and bitterness. One of disappointment and despair. One full of hurt, even hate, toward God. What made this message different?
Simple. This grieving dad believes God’s promises. “Faith is a choice,” he concluded.
It is.
Our God is a promise-keeping God. Others may make a promise and forget it. But if God makes a promise, he keeps it. “He who promised is faithful” (Heb. 10:23).
Does this matter? Does God’s integrity make a difference? Does his faithfulness come into play? When your daughter is on life
support, it does. When you’re pacing the ER floor, it does.
When you are wondering what to do with every parent’s worst nightmare, you have to choose. Faith or fear, God’s purpose or random history, a God who knows and cares or a God who isn’t there? We all choose.
New-beginning people choose to trust God’s promises. They choose to believe that God is up to something good even though all we see looks bad. They echo the verse of the hymn:
His oath, His covenant, His blood, Support me in the whelming flood.2
Nothing deserves your attention more than God’s covenants. No words written on paper will ever sustain you like the promises of God. Do you know them?
To the bereaved: “Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning” (Ps. 30:5).
To the besieged: “The righteous person may have many troubles, but the LORD delivers him from them all” (Ps. 34:19).
To the sick: “The Lord sustains them on their sickbed and restores them from their bed of illness” (Ps. 41:3).
To the lonely: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you” (Isa. 43:2).
To the dying: “In my Father’s house are many rooms. . . . I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2 ESV).
To the sinner: “My grace is sufficient for you” (2 Cor. 12:9).
These promises are for your good. “And because of his glory and excellence, he has given us great and precious promises. These are the promises that enable you to share his divine nature and escape the world’s corruption caused by human desires” (2 Peter 1:4 NLT).
Press into God’s promises. When fears surface, respond with this thought: But God said . . . When doubts arise, But God said . . . When guilt overwhelms you, But God said . . .
Declare these words: “You have rescued me, O God who keeps his promises” (Ps. 31:5 TLB). Turn again and again to God’s spoken covenants. Search the Scriptures the way a miner digs for gold. Once you find a nugget, grasp it. Trust it. Take it to the bank. Do what I did with the promise of the pilot.
Not long after I met the note-giving gentleman on the plane, I took another flight. On this occasion a note did not come my way, but bad weather did. The flight into Houston was delayed by storms. We landed at the exact time the final flight into San Antonio was scheduled to depart. As we taxied toward the gate, I was checking my watch, thinking about hotels, preparing to call and tell Denalyn of my delay, grumbling at the bad break.
Then over the loud speaker a promise. “This is the pilot. I know many of you have connections. Relax. You’ll make them. We are holding your planes. We have a place for you.”
Well, I thought, he wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it. So I decided to trust his promise.
I didn’t call Denalyn.
I stopped thinking about hotels.
I quit checking my watch.
I relaxed. I waited my turn to get off the plane and set my sights on my gate. I marched through the concourse with confidence. Hadn’t the pilot given me a promise?
Other people in the airport weren’t so fortunate. They, also victims of inclement weather, were in a panic. Travelers were scrambling, white faced and worried. Their expressions betrayed their fear.
Too bad their pilot hadn’t spoken to them. Or perhaps he had and they hadn’t listened.
Your Pilot has spoken to you. Will you listen? No, I mean really listen? Let his promises settle over you like the warmth of a summer day. When everyone and everything around you says to panic, choose the path of peace. In this world of empty words and broken promises, do yourself a favor: take hold of the promises of God.
My friend Wes did. You’ll look a long time before you’ll find a better man than Wes Bishop. He had a quick smile, warm handshake, and serious weakness for ice cream. For more than thirty-five years he kept the same job, loved the same wife, served the same church, and lived in the same house. He was a pillar in the small Texas town of Sweetwater. He raised three great sons, one of whom married my daughter Jenna. Wes never even missed a day of work until a few months ago when he was diagnosed with brain cancer.
We asked God to remove it. For a time it appeared that he had. But then the symptoms returned with a vengeance. In a matter of a few weeks, Wes was immobilized, at home, in hospice care.
The sons took turns keeping vigil so their mom could rest. They placed a baby monitor next to Wes’s bed. Though he’d hardly spoken a word in days, they wanted to hear him if he called out.
One night he did. But he didn’t call for help; he called for Christ. About one o’clock in the morning, the youngest son heard the strong voice of his father on the monitor. “Jesus, I want to thank you for my life. You have been good to me. And I want you to know, when you are ready to take me, I am ready to go.” As it turned out, those were the final words Wes spoke. Within a couple of days Jesus took him home to heaven to start a new beginning that will last for eternity.
I want that kind of faith. Don’t you? The faith that turns to God in the darkest hour, praises God with the weakest body. The kind of faith that trusts in God’s promises. The kind of faith that presses an ink pen into an airline napkin and declares, “Faith is a choice. And I choose faith.”
chapter twelve
Let Your Father Fight for You
With us is the LORD our God, to help us and to fight our battles.
—2 CHRONICLES 32:8 NKJV
Nadin Khoury was thirteen years old, five foot two, and weighed, soaking wet, probably a hundred pounds.
His attackers were teenagers, larger than Nadin, and out-numbered him seven to one.
For thirty minutes they hit, kicked, and beat him.
He never stood a chance.
Khoury’s mom had recently moved the family to Philadelphia from Minnesota. She had lost her job as a hotel maid and was looking for work. In 2000 she’d escaped war-torn Liberia. Nadin Khoury, then, was the new kid in a rough neighborhood with a mom who was an unemployed immigrant—everything a wolf pack of bullies needed to justify an attack.
The hazing began weeks earlier. They picked on him. They called his mother names. They routinely pushed, shoved, and ambushed him. Then came the all-out assault on a January day. They dragged him through the snow, stuffed him into a tree, and suspended him on a seven-foot wrought-iron fence.
Khoury survived the attack and would have likely faced a few more except for the folly of one of the bullies. He filmed the pile-on and posted it on YouTube. A passerby saw the violence and chased away the bullies. Police saw it and got involved. The troublemakers landed in jail, and the story reached the papers.
A staffer at the nationwide morning show The View read the account and invited Khoury to appear on the broadcast. He did. As the video of the assault played on the screen behind him, he tried to appear brave, but his lower lip quivered. “Next time maybe it could be somebody smaller than me,” he said.
Unbeknown to him the producer had invited some other Philadelphians to appear on the show as well. As the YouTube video ended, the curtain opened, and three huge men walked out, members of the Philadelphia Eagles football team.
Khoury, a rabid fan, turned and smiled. One was All-Pro receiver DeSean Jackson. Jackson took a seat on the couch as close to the boy as possible and promised him, “Anytime you need us, I got two linemen right here.” Khoury’s eyes widened saucer-like as Jackson signed a football jersey and handed it to him. Then, in full view of every bully in America, he gave the boy his cell phone number.1
From that day forward Khoury has been only a call away from his personal bodyguards. Thugs think twice before they harass the kid who has an NFL football player’s number on speed dial.
Pretty good offer. Who wouldn’t want that type of protection?
God gives you the same promise. In fact, the writer of Hebrews quoted the words in his epistle: “For [God] has said, ‘I will never leave you or forsake you.’ So we can say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can anyone do to me?’” (Heb. 13:5–6 NR
SV).
That last question is a troubling one. What can anyone do to me? You know the answers. “Lie to me.” “Deceive me.” “Injure me.” “Terrorize me.” “Bully me.”
But the Scripture asks a different question. If the Lord is your helper, what can anyone do to you?
The Greek word for helper in this passage is boēthos, from boē, which means “a shout,” and theō, which means “to run.”2 When you need help, God runs with a shout, “I’m coming!” He never leaves you. Ever! He never takes a break, takes a nap, or takes time off for vacation. He never leaves your side.
The job market is flat? True. But God is your helper. Your blood cell count is down? Difficult for sure, but the One who made you is with you. Is the world in fear of pandemics? Indeed it is. Still, the Almighty will never leave you or forsake you.
Consequently, everything changes! Since God is strong, you will be strong. Since he is able, you will be able. Since he has no limits, you have no limits. With the apostle you can boldly say, “The LORD is my helper; I will not fear. What can man do to me?” (v. 6 NKJV).
But there is more. The biggest—and best—news is this: God not only stays with you . . . he fights for you.
Not only does God desire that you have a chance to begin again, but he fights for you so you can and then remains your guardian throughout your journey.
Fears, diseases, pain, disappointments, and hurts come at you like a legion of hoodlums. Yet rather than run away, you turn and face them. You unsheathe the promise of God’s Word and defy the enemies of God’s cause. You are a grizzly and they are rats. “Get out of here, shame! Begone, guilt! Fear of death, regrets of the past, take your puny attacks elsewhere.”
This is what happens when you are living the new-beginning life. You were not made to quake in fear. You were not made to be beholden to your past. You were not made to limp through life as a wimp. You are a living, breathing expression of God. What’s more, he fights for you.