Hope in the Hard Seasons
I recently had a FaceTime call with two of my dearest friends. Even though miles separate us, our hearts are forever knit together as sisters in Christ. We’ve walked through some of life’s hardest seasons side by side.
As we talked, we found ourselves remembering the darkest days. Both of my friends endured long, painful battles with infertility, aching to become mothers. My story looks different, but it carries its own weight of grief. My first marriage ended in divorce, and the life I had prayed for unraveled right in front of me.
And yet… there we were, reminiscing while laughing, reflecting and grateful. Only God could write that kind of redemption.
Through it all, I’ve learned quite a bit about hope.
In the original Greek, the word for hope—elpis—doesn’t mean wishful thinking. It means expectation. A quiet, confident trust in what God has promised, even when the season feels unbearably hard.
Hope isn’t denial. It doesn’t mean pretending you’re fine when you’re not. God never asked us to gaslight ourselves into gratitude. Instead, hope makes room for real feelings without shame. As I wrote in Even the Ashes Bloom: “Hope doesn’t pretend the past didn’t happen. It just believes the past isn’t the whole story.”
Hope isn’t a spiritual Band-Aid. It isn’t quoting Scripture to silence sorrow. God’s Word isn’t a cover-up. It’s a companion.
Real hope looks different. It’s a holy yet: This hurts, yet God is still good. I’m exhausted, yet I’m not abandoned.
I don’t see the way forward, yet I trust He does.
Hope is a seed. Seeds don’t look impressive when they’re buried. But under the surface, something sacred is happening. This is where my ashes-to-bloom faith lives. If you’re standing in the ashes right now—still praying messy prayers, still showing up even when you don’t feel brave—that’s not weak faith.
That’s real hope. When life doesn’t go the way we prayed it would, hope starts to wobble. We find ourselves wrestling with questions we didn’t expect:
I thought You would show up differently, God. How could you let this happen?
Why does everyone else get their miracle first?
How much longer do I have to be strong?
If any of this feels familiar, hear this: Questions don’t cancel your faith. It means you’re human, you care, and you were brave enough to hope in the first place.
There was a season when I felt like hope had packed up and left town. I was praying, journaling, doing all the “right” things, all while quietly wondering if God had forgotten my address. I still believed in Him. I just didn’t know how to believeforanything anymore.
That’s the thing about hard seasons: they don’t usually make us stop believing in God. They just make us wonder if God still believes in us. When hope feels thin and the days feel heavy, we don’t need a ten-step spiritual plan.
We need anchors.
Here are three gentle ones:
1. Linger with God instead of rushing past the pain.
God isn’t in a hurry with your healing. He doesn’t need polished prayers—just honest ones.
“God, I’m sad.”
“God, I’m angry.”
“God, I don’t understand.”
Be reminded, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted…” (Psalm 34:18)
2. Look for small graces, not big breakthroughs.
Sometimes mercy shows up quietly:
A text at the right time.
A cup of coffee that feels like comfort.
A song that makes you cry in the car.
These aren’t small things. They’re breadcrumbs of grace.
3. Let others hold hope for you.
Borrowed faith is still faith.
Let someone pray when you can’t.
Let someone believe big things for you.
Let someone carry your burden.
You were never meant to walk through this alone.
Finally, if you’re in a long season of waiting, trust thatGod’s silence isn’t absence, and waiting isn’t wasted.
Just because nothing around you looks different doesn’t mean nothing in you is changing. God often does His deepest work underground. What feels like a delay may be protection. What feels like the end may be the quiet beginning of something new.
For Reflection
Where does this season feel hardest right now?
What would gentle hope look like instead of forced positivity?
What is one small thing God might be inviting you to notice today?
If you find yourself standing in the ashes of a life that didn’t turn out the way you hoped, you’re not alone. God is still creating beauty in broken places. God is not done writing your story.
Even the Ashes Bloom: Finding Beauty When You Feel Brokenis now available for preorder! Place your preorder here:https://a.co/d/aoBtV9V
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