When Hope Dies

PAUSE

As I enter prayer now, I pause to be still; to breathe slowly, to recenter my scattered senses upon the presence of God.

(pause)

I pray Psalm 57:1, repeating the words slowly, several times:

“Have mercy on me, my God, have mercy on me, for in you I take refuge. I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed.”

REFLECT

Bible: As evening approached, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who had himself become a disciple of Jesus. Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body, and Pilate ordered that it be given to him. Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in his own new tomb that he had cut out of the rock. He rolled a big stone in front of the entrance to the tomb and went away. (Matt. 27:57–60)

Book passage: No one really talks about Holy Saturday, yet if we stop and think about it, it’s where most of us live most of our lives. Holy Saturday is the no-man’s land between questions and answers, prayers uttered and miracles to come. It’s where we wait—with a peculiar mixture of faith and despair—whenever God is silent or life doesn’t make sense.

ASK

Ask myself: Joseph of Arimathea’s service to the body of Christ could have seemed a bit . . . pointless. Is there anything very practical that I can do to serve Jesus today, even if it is unnoticed or seems a bit unnecessary?

Ask the Lord: I take a little time now to admit any ways in which I feel that my hope has died, asking the Lord to do what seems impossible in spite of my gloom.

YIELD

A prayer of costly worship by songwriter Matt Redman:

Blessed be Your name, on the road marked with suffering, Though there’s pain in the offering, blessed be Your name. You give and take away, You give and take away, My heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be Your name.

Amen.