“When you feel yourself reacting negatively to something you hear, hit pause in your mind.
Ask yourself (1) ‘Why am I reacting this way?’ and (2) ‘What could this conversation be like without my reaction?'”
– Sarah Holland, Beth Silvers

The Overwhelming Divide

We all face moments when the world can feel overwhelming, especially again this year when it comes to politics.

At times it appears hopeless. The divide seems too large to bridge. Red states, blue states, progressives, conservatives, us vs them makes us wonder if there is any common ground left.

In the past few years, I’ve found myself more politically aware than ever before. While it’s been empowering to better understand the issues, it’s also been disheartening. Talking politics can both fire me up and bring me down.

But even in politics, there is hope, right?

A Shift in Perspective

Yes, there is reason to hope. This quote by Sarah Holland and Beth Silvers gives me hope. It’s from their book, I Think You’re Wrong (But I’m Listening): A Guide to Grace-Filled Political Conversations.

“We’ve decided to stop calling America ‘divided.’

Buying into this conflict-driven narrative is a choice, and it’s a choice we’re not going to make. We don’t feel divided from each other or the people in our lives in any way.

There are no perfect relationships, ideas, people, or organizations in our lives. They’re all flawed, just as we are flawed.

But we see past those flaws—because we are first looking for the good.“

5 Commitments to Practice Hope in Politics

Here are five commitments from I Think You’re Wrong that we can use to practice hope in political discussions.

1. Commit to recognizing and putting down your defensiveness.

2. Commit to learning something in the discussion.

3. Commit to having a dialogue instead of giving alternate speeches.

4. Commit to assessing whether it’s the right time to say what is on your mind.

5. Commit to ending the discussion by strengthening the relationship.

Within the boundaries of these commitments, perhaps we can talk politics with our family, friends, and even strangers more productively and with respect. Through this approach we can grow in self-awareness and love for others whether we’re on the same side of an issue or polar opposite. We can let go of our daily moral outrage at every new controversial statement and instead listen with curiosity.

As Beth and Sarah wisely put it,

“Remember that you are part of something so much bigger than one election, one vote, and one law.”

I want to believe this. So this is my reminder to choose hope, even in politics.

* * *

Who do you talk politics with? Everybody, nobody, only a select few? Do you find it hopeful? Please share in the comments.

revised from the archives

What are some symbols of hope you see in your world? For me, flowers are often signs of hope, especially those that finagle a way to bloom through a crack in the pavement, or unexpectedly spring to life from a stem I thought was dead.

One flower that stands out as a traditional symbol of hope is the iris.

The name “iris” comes from the Greek word for rainbow. In ancient Greek mythology, Iris was the messenger of the gods and the personification of the rainbow. She was said to be the vital link between heaven and earth, traveling along rainbows. The Greeks often planted irises over the graves of women, believing that the goddess Iris would guide the dead on their journey to heaven.

In my own garden, the irises are some of the hardiest perennials. They grow in poor soil. They continue to return year after year with minimal attention.

That gives me hope.

The iris’s characteristics of resilience, adaptability, and faithfulness are characteristics I want to cultivate in my own life, too.

These traits remind us that regardless of the season we’re in, a new spring is always around the corner.

Just like the iris, we can become symbols of hope by being resilient, adaptable, and faithful.

The next time you see an iris, let it be a reminder to embrace these qualities and to hold onto hope, no matter the challenges you face.

* * *

Share your thoughts in the comments.

revised from the archives

We ran into each other again at Manna House on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s where we usually see each other.

Cowboy and I first met in his homeless camp. From first glance and first conversation, I knew Cowboy was rich in life stories.

When I couldn’t believe he was as old as he said—he didn’t look his age—he volunteered his ID to prove it. But as the stories added up, I knew he had lived many years. How else can you squeeze so much living into one lifetime?

For several months he’d been promising me a book. One that he’s been writing. It’s about his life.

I definitely want to read Cowboy’s book.

But Cowboy doesn’t always get to the library to type up his tales on the computers there. His health isn’t as great as it used to be. And his years continue to add up.

Will I ever get to read his book?

I’ve read a lot of books in my life. But I haven’t read enough. There are more books I still want to—need to—read.

There are more encounters with love I have yet to experience.

Each life tells a story. Each life shows a unique way to be a human. Cowboy’s life shows a side I didn’t grow up with. Perhaps more struggles. Rougher around the edges. Yet protective and gentle in its own way.

If Cowboy never gets his book finished, I hope I’ll continue running into him at Manna House or the library or occasionally at a mutual friend’s funeral.

I can hear his story, even if I never get to read it. He can talk about it, even when he doesn’t get a chance to write it out.

On the last Wednesday we talked, Cowboy and Susan needed a ride back to their homeless camp (they later moved into an apartment of their own again for a time before Susan passed away). We dropped them off at the edge of their woods.

As they walked deeper into the trees, farther than we could see, I thought again about Cowboy’s future book full of his past stories.

Even if I never get to read them, Cowboy’s stories have already enriched my stories. His life has enriched mine.

But I still hope he’ll finish his book.

You might want to read it, too.

* * *

Whose life story would you like to read? Have you written your own story? Please share in the comments.

revised from the archives

Read more:

• His Bread in My Car?
  The homeless boys know the forecast. Cold and stormy. I’ll have to turn up my electric blanket tonight. Life is so unfair.
• A Year from Homeless
  I asked the once-homeless wife, “Is there anything you miss about living outside, anything at all?” I thought the open air? Birds? People? But what she said surprised me…
• Whose World Is Real? Theirs or Ours?
  The world of the homeless camp feels brutally real. He tells me he knows who the survivors are. I think he’s right.

Have Enough Favorites?

It’s been a few years now, but I remember the night Brian brought me Vietnamese spring rolls.

He had made spring rolls a couple weeks earlier and brought them to our English as a Second Language class. But I wasn’t there that week. With no time to make homemade rolls again the following week just for me, he bought some from a local Vietnamese restaurant.

He pulled out the takeout box for me to have.

Vietnamese food is an unknown to me. I’m not adventurous in the food department. I like what I like. I have enough favorite foods already; why would I need to try new ones?

But having a Vietnamese friend was once an unknown to me, too.

When New Is Uncomfortable

Brian isn’t his original name. It’s the name he gave himself when he came to America a few months earlier from his home in Vietnam. It’s easier to say.

When I wanted to learn how to pronounce his real name anyway, he laughed and gently told me it would be too hard. I could just call him Brian. He liked that name.

Learning new things can be uncomfortable. Meeting new people even more so. Especially when you speak different languages. It feels rude to ask someone to repeat a word over and over because you can’t understand what they’re saying. Or to be asked in return to speak slower because they’re lost.

Differences often separate us. It’s hard to jump the hurdles to find commonalities. It takes energy and motivation. And time.

To practice his English, Brian prefered real conversations with a native speaker instead of learning through a workbook. So for an hour and a half each Thursday night week after week, we simply talked.

We worked on his pronunciation skills (the th sound is hard for him) and I explained definitions of words he was unsure of (like meteorologist). But we did so through natural discussions about the differences and similarities in our two cultures of America and Vietnam. Weddings, clothing, schools, food, family, holidays, religion.

It Goes Both Ways

As I learned more about Brian’s culture, I learned more about mine, too. Sometimes I’m proud of it; sometimes I’m shamed. The Vietnamese do many things better, some things worse, just like we do.

Even though our sounds differ, our minds search for similar information, our hearts feel the same emotions, our souls want the same connections.

The teaching and learning didn’t go only one direction, but back and forth, round and round.

One word at a time, one conversation at a time, the teacher/student dynamic broke down. It grew into friend-to-friend.

Welcome Home

Despite the hindrances, it’s possible to overcome barriers and reconnect in meaningful ways.

Granted, it takes more effort to understand each other when we don’t sound the same. We have to think harder, lean in, listen closer.

Welcoming the outsider often feels awkward. But we’ve all been the stranger. We know what it means to have received hospitality as a stranger as well as to extend hospitality to the strangers around us. To help others feel at home.

Our efforts are worth it when we discover our common humanity.

I opened the takeout box to try a spring roll. It looked as foreign as it was. I timidly dipped a corner of the rice paper into the sauce. Brian urged me to dunk it more fully. I tried it.

It was good, but it tasted alien to my American tastebuds. I would need a few more bites.

When I got home, I encouraged my husband Jeff to try one, too. He did. The culture was spreading. We’d never had Vietnamese food in our mouths—in our house—and now we had both experienced it.

It was no longer an unknown.

Welcome home.

* * *

When have you been an outsider? When have you welcomed the stranger?

Please share your thoughts in the comments.

revised from the archives

I take a quick glance at my flower beds. They’re dismal. The cold weather choked the life and beauty out of each blossom, each stem.

But after reading Donna’s post about the promise of new life, I am reminded anew that the appearance of death isn’t always what it seems.

Frost is here now, yes. Winter is indeed coming. 

But after a season of rest over the next few months, the hosta will again send up new shoots from the ground. The rose bush will break out in tiny pink buds. The azalea will turn from brown to explosive red.

The breath of God, of Love, will restore beauty.

It is safe for me to hope for what the next season will bring, even as I experience the chill in this one.

Read all of Donna’s post at her blog, then link up your own blog posts below.

“New Life Amidst the Ruins”

Share your thoughts in the comments.

I’m linking at these blog parties

Review the rules here about adding your most recent Christian Living posts and how to be the Featured Post. Visit all four hosts social media here or websites here: Maree Dee, Lisa notes, Lauren Sparks, Tammy Kennington.

Now Let’s Link Up!

The dove is often viewed as a symbol of hope. (See how anchors are also a symbol of hope in the Bible.)

Broken Bird Feeder

I see bird seed spilled on the ground in our front yard. The squirrel is having a feast.

I had recently added a plastic dome over the bird feeder to keep the squirrels from wiping out the food in just a few hours.

But once again, my plot was foiled.

The squirrel outsmarted me. He chewed the rope holding the bird feeder, causing it to fall to the ground, and breaking it wide open.

Doves as Hope

I want to watch the birds, not the squirrels, at the bird feeder hanging on our cherry tree.

While I’m not a serious bird-watcher (I can only identify a handful for certain), I do know a few.

One of the birds I know is the dove. We have many doves that eat from the bird feeder (when the squirrels haven’t emptied it out.)

I like watching the doves. Doves remind me to hope.

Associating doves with hope originates from the biblical story of Noah’s ark in Genesis 7-8. It is written that after Noah and his family ride out the 40-day rainstorm, waters rise for another 5 months. In the next 5 months, waters begin receding, leaving the ark to rest on the mountains of Ararat.

The story continues that Noah opens the window. He sends out a raven. But it only flies back and forth because there is nowhere for it to land.

Noah next sends out a dove, but it can’t land either.

Another week passes. Noah sends out the dove again. This time it returns back to Noah with a gift, a freshly picked olive leaf.

timeline revised from bible.ca

Thrive in Hope

Noah’s hope is coming true. He knows there is life again outside the ark. God has not abandoned him.

But the story continues. Noah waits one more week and releases the dove a third time. This time the bird doesn’t return at all, a sign that it is able to live on its own.

The dove found its own bird food.

The dove was a tangible reminder to Noah to hope. When he needed evidence that new life was possible, the dove brought it.

We All Need Hope

In the New Testament, a dove lights on Jesus after he is baptized in the Jordan River by John. Here the dove represents the Spirit of God and is accompanied by God’s voice from heaven, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

The apostle Paul writes that God is the God of hope. It is through the power of the Spirit that we can overflow with hope (Romans 15:13).

I need more hope. Hope for fresh starts. Hope for renewal. Hope for the dawning of a new day.

And hope for more doves to feed in my front yard.

I look online this morning for a new bird feeder. I add one to my cart. I click “buy.”

I’ll start again.

Hope really does spring eternal.

* * *

Share your thoughts in the comments.

READ MORE ABOUT HOPE:

• 4 Ways to Express Your Hope
  When you feel too cynical or things seem hopeless, that’s a great time to practice your hope. Here are 4 ways.
• Get Your Hopes Up for Good Gifts Ahead
  We can’t imagine the gifts God has planned for us or what time they will arrive. But we can know they will be good. Get your hopes up.
• When Hope Feels Dangerous
  Our hope for the future isn’t defined by our past. Here’s why we should continue to practice hope, even when it feels dangerous.
  

Sometimes I’m scared to hope. I don’t want to be disappointed (again). I’d rather keep my expectations too low than too high.

But that can be a negative way to live.

We all need hope. Hope is part of our birthright, part of the Abundant Life package promised by Jesus.

Where can we find hope? Where does hope live?

Karen explains in our featured post for this week that hope lives closer than we think.

“When Jesus lives in us through the Holy Spirit, He brings hope near. . . . Hope is something we possess—a gift from God. Our spiritual clothes contain deep pockets with blessings.”

Read all of Karen’s post here. Then link up your own blog posts below.

“WHERE TRUE HOPE LIVES”

Do you see the glass half full or half empty? Share your thoughts in the comments.

Read More:

• Find Hope on the Darkest Day of the Year
• When Your Only Hope is the Sliver of Light

I’m linking at these blog parties

1. Share 1 or 2 of your most recent CHRISTIAN LIVING posts. (No DIY, crafts, recipes, or inappropriate articles.) All links are randomly sorted.

2. Comment on 1 or 2 other links. Grace & Truth linkup encourages community.   

3. Every host features one entry from the previous week. To be featured, include this button or link back here on your post (mandatory to be featured, but not to participate).

We encourage you to follow our hosts on their blogs or social media.

MAREE DEE – Embracing the Unexpected
Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

LAUREN SPARKS
Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

LISA BURGESS – Lisa notes
Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

TAMMY KENNINGTON – Restoring hope. Pursuing peace.
Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

Now Let’s Link Up!

A Knock on the Door

It’s around 10:30 p.m. on the cruise ship. We’re somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. I am too tired to stay up any longer.

I send Jeff out with our group of friends to go to the next show without me.

I’m in bed alone, lights out. I hear a knock on the door. I’d locked it earlier, but not bolted it. I want Jeff to be able to get back in when he returns.

Has Jeff forgotten his key?

I don’t want to get up unnecessarily, so I first try saying, “Come in.”

I hear the door open. But when it does, it’s not Jeff standing there.

It’s not anyone I know.

It’s a man in a uniform.

This Is Not Normal

The stranger steps inside my door, leaving it cracked. He tells me he’s with maintenance. He’s here to work on the door.

We actually had reported a problem with our door earlier that morning. It wasn’t locking well.

But what maintenance man comes calling at 10:30 p.m.???

I wasn’t dressed appropriately to get out of bed to show him the issue. And I was too shocked to say the most logical thing, “Please leave now. Come back tomorrow!”

So instead, he props open the door, just a sliver, and sits down quietly on the floor with his tool box.

And I lie in bed with HUGE prayers.

God, please, let this man be legit. Please make him leave. Please let Jeff come back NOW.

I feel completely vulnerable. My phone is out of reach. And even if I were to scream, who would hear me? My friends in the cabin room next door are out with Jeff.

The man seems nervous, too. He walks into the bathroom. He does something noisy with the trash can. Then he walks back to sit on the floor by the cracked door.

This is not normal.

But as long as I see the sliver of light shining into the room from the hallway, it means the door is still propped open. And it means I still have hope to avoid total darkness with this stranger, unprotected and all alone.

It seems like an hour passes.

But it’s probably only 10 minutes. The man is still sitting on the floor, thinking with his tools; I’m still frozen in bed, my heart racing, my mind spiraling.

I hear voices down the hall. It’s Jeff returning to the room, thank God!

He’s surprised to see this man here.

Jeff asks what he’s doing and immediately tells him to leave. The man mutters a quiet reply under his breath, quickly grabs his tools, and scurries down the hallway.

He’s gone.

That Sliver of Light

I’ve never felt such relief in my life. I’ve been rescued. The complete darkness never came. Not this time.

The next day we report the incident to our cabin steward. He is distressed. He knows nothing about a maintenance call nor who the employee could have been. He apologizes and promises it won’t happen again.

I’m still shaken for days afterward.

Perhaps the man had no nefarious motives. But this could have ended differently, especially in my imagination.

Yet instead of a disaster, I’d only had a scare.

I’m beyond grateful.

Thank you, God, for that sliver of light, for leaving the door cracked open, for always leaving space for hope.

I want to stay in your light forever.

Even though this took place five years ago, it still feels fresh.

Our memory verses in 1 John 1 this week are about admitting when we need help from God. When we each come clean with him, we stay in the light with each other.

When have you felt saved by the light? Share in the comments.

We all have days when things go right. Everything we touch is golden.

But we also have days when things go wrong. It’s in those days that it’s easy to lose hope.

If you’re reading this on April 2, Good Friday, you’ll remember on the very first Good Friday two thousand years ago it seemed all hope was erased forever.

With Jesus captured, beaten, and left for dead on a cross, the plan seemed to have gone terribly awry.

But hope doesn’t like to stay down. 

As Karen says in our featured post this week, “Hope was always coming. And God knew.”

We can know, too. Maybe the exact situation we’re hoping to change won’t be changed. Or the job we’re hoping for won’t be the one we’re offered. Or the problem we want solved won’t suddenly become solvable.

But somehow, someway, God can and will return us again to victory.

In the story of Jesus, it was three days later that Hope rose from the dead. He walked out of the tomb, and never went back in.

May we keep Hope alive in our hearts too. Even on those dead days, resurrection is only a corner away.

Read all of Karen’s post at her blog, then link up your own blog posts below.

Hope Was Always Coming and God Knew

1. Share 1 or 2 of your most recent CHRISTIAN LIVING posts. (No DIY, crafts, recipes, or inappropriate articles.) All links are randomly sorted.

2. Comment on 1 or 2 other links. Grace & Truth linkup encourages community.   

3. Every host features one entry from the previous week. To be featured, include this button or link back here on your post (mandatory to be featured, but not to participate).

We encourage you to follow our hosts on their blogs or social media.

MAREE DEE – Embracing the Unexpected
Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

HEATHER HART & VALERIE RIESE – Candidly Christian
Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

LAUREN SPARKS
Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

LISA BURGESS – Lisa notes
Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

Now Let’s Link Up!

When have you felt hopeless? What restored your hope? Share your thoughts in the comments.

In the middle of this crazy year, we can wonder: Where is God?

We once knew the right answer to this call-and-response:

“God is good all the time. And all the time __________.”

But what about now? 

Is God still good? Even in 2020?

Read the rest here:

3 Ways to Hope in God’s Goodness

I’m writing today at Do Not Depart. We’re looking at 3 places to find God’s goodness. Will you join me there?