The Power of Hope

Tonight, I attended my weekly ARP meeting. I wanted to stay home and sleep, as I haven't slept well in several weeks. However, I recalled that sleeplessness had been a contributor to my last several slips, and maybe the meeting would give me that extra spiritual boost.

There was no maybe about it.

I had planned to complain when it was my turn to share. I had planned to speak my fears and sorrows. But, when it was my turn, I could do no such thing, because the Spirit took that time to remind me of where I'd been, where I am, and where I'm going. My God, through the Spirit, reminded me that, even though I feel like recovery is taking me way too long, it really wasn't all that long ago when I was in a place so dark and hopeless that I mostly believed I could never recover; that I was stuck forever in sin and despair; that I would never make it Home. I remembered a poem I'd written several years ago, and I remembered it verbatim. I have posted it on my blog before, but this is the one I'm talking about:

God, O God, my Father,
Can't You feel my inside screams
Bursting outward, upward, forward
Through a megaphone of sin?
Can't You see my face discolored
By my heart's unending tears
Do You not hear the desperation
of my crumbling, wearied soul?
I'm tired of this! Tired
of the constant, blunt reminders
Uninvited invitations
to my chosen mortal vice
God, O God, my Father
Is there more hopeful a conclusion
Than -- Why give to Thee this day
When tomorrow I must fail?

Now, it's been several years since I wrote that. Seven years, actually. But I felt just that way for years. I felt like failure was inevitable, that I wasn't good enough to ever be free, that my efforts toward healing would never be sufficient, and so how could my efforts of today matter at all when tomorrow I was just going to act out again? I felt totally and eternally trapped. Tonight, as I recalled the poem, I also recalled very vividly the feeling. And the truth is, I'm not there anymore. Even when I take some steps backward, I cannot stay in a place of misery and hopelessness, because I know too much. I know my Savior too well. I cannot know Him and love Him like I do and stay down! No! Because of Him, I can rise each time I fall, and I can rise immediately each time I fall. He will pick me up the moment I reach for His hand, every time. And so, I cannot stay down anymore, and my stumbles are ever becoming less frequent and less drastic. I am His miracle! My pride and unwillingness have slowed my progress, to be sure, but I have most certainly progressed, which is evident by my hope, I believe, which hope comes through my Jesus. My progress is a miracle.

I am in a much different place than I was then. The difference is enormous. Then, hope was a light through a pinhole way in the distance. Now, hope is as "bright as the noonday sun," and constant. Oh, sweet hope, Oh, sweet Jesus! I cannot lie in despair when I know such hope.

When it was my turn to share, I did not speak my fears and sorrows, as I'd previously planned. I spoke my hope and gratitude. I spoke my testimony of His love and His healing. As I remembered how far I've come - even if it has taken a long while - I couldn't talk about the negative pieces of my life. The miracle of the Atonement is far more important than the day's irritants.

I'm so thankful I attended tonight. I'm so grateful that the Lord has provided His children with so many tools of recovery, of help, of repentance, of hope. How He loves us! How He loves me.