Resurrecting Hope

Her son was dead. Maybe not in body, but the sweet towheaded boy who held her hand on long car rides was gone. The vibrant ten year-old who loved to skateboard, and fished with his uncle was no more. The teenager who boldly kissed her cheek -- even in front of his friends -- remained little more than a sanitized memory she resurrected each time she recounted the sparse and flimsy details of his passing. She wasn't even sure the man she saw before her was any more than a stranger. But God.

For weeks, the song had topped her playlist:

"His love is like lightning
Cracking through the sky, and
Burnin' through the rage
Burnin' through the pain of a billion scars.
"Get ready, get ready,
Get ready, get ready,
All the stories are true." -- "Ghost," Crowder

A sadness would fall on her as she listened to the winsome melody. Rage, pain, scars. She knew exactly what they were all about. A lifetime of bad choices and abuse. But God.

Years before a friend had given her a word of hope. Her son would grow to love and serve the Lord. That was long before this. Before he had spent more years away, before he had said and done so many things to make his situation as bad as it was, before he hated as he did. But God.

A little girl's prayer every chance she was given. "God, please heal my family." What could that mean? What would that look like? It would take the biggest miracle ever. A twenty-first century resurrection. But God.

And then, this day. A stranger's gentle hand on hers, leaving behind the scent of flowers. "Whatever your son is today has no bearing on who he will be. Handle all things through prayer and supplication." As she left that place, she raised her hand to her face, and allowed her heart to be softened by the scent of hope -- a hope she'd extinguished long ago. She soaked in the confirmation. She dared to embrace the encouragement she wanted to disavow, the belief in the possibility of a resurrection. And she challenged herself to obey the call to prayer and faith. Faith in One who calls things that are not as though they are.

"Burning through the things
That need to be erased
To liberate my soul." -- "Ghost," Crowder

Get ready. This is God.