Lately, I feel like humanity is holding its collective breath, waiting for something good to happen. We wake up each day daring to hope that something extraordinary might have occurred while we slept – world problems were solved, good prevailed, COVID disappeared, wrongs were righted. But then we check our news feed and see that no, Jesus has not returned. The difficulties in our world are enough to lead to a feeling of hopelessness, despite faith in God.

For me, faith is knowing that God is God and will do what He says, but hope is feeling it. In hard times, I still know and believe, but I don’t always feel it.

This current season of change and upheaval in my personal life, as my youngest children leave home, and in the world, as unrest prevails, has caused me to think back frequently to another overwhelming time in my family. Remembering how my dad moved forward and regained hope after that terrible season of loss a decade ago has encouraged me.

Throughout his career, Dad was a builder of roads, golf courses, parking lots, etc. He even helped to build the sidewalks and streets of Busch Gardens. After working in Virginia's winter cold and summer heat for forty-two years, my father finally retired from his six-day-a-week job and moved to a lake in North Carolina. But he and my mom had barely unpacked the moving boxes when my sister was diagnosed with ALS back in Virginia. Thus, Dad's retirement quickly turned into a three-year season of caregiving for his oldest daughter.

When my sister was born in 1967, Dad missed her infancy while serving overseas in the Navy's Construction Battalion in Vietnam. But by 2007, he found himself caring for his forty-year-old daughter like a baby, as she gradually lost the ability to eat, clothe, or care for herself. Along with an incredible team of loving family and friends, he poured out his efforts to bring my sister comfort and peace, meeting her practical needs and helping her family.

Dad's favorite way of helping was to repair things for her. Although he couldn't fix my sister, he could fix things around her house. If she was worried about a wonky ceiling fan, a leaky faucet, or a flat tire, Dad was on it. His help made my sister happy because, after a lifetime of taking meticulous care of her house, it frustrated her to see problems and be unable to fix them. Dad eased her burden with his repairs.

One day, the inevitable happened, and my sister could no longer walk. A giant power wheelchair helped her stay mobile, but getting her in and out of the house became a significant hurdle. Dad quickly got on board with a team to help build a ramp to the front door. The smile on her face when she was able to wheel down that ramp the first time brought him a lot of joy.

Building the ramp wasn't just about enabling my sister to travel to her many doctor visits; it also meant she could leave the dark walls of the house and enter the light and fresh air of the outdoors. It gave her a little bit of freedom.

Sadly, after a three-year battle, my sister died in 2010. Although this meant that Dad had time to do all the relaxing things he had dreamed of in retirement, his heart wasn't in it. He spent lots of time on the lake in his little johnboat, fishing and boating to tiny islands with his metal detector to look for treasures. But what my father was actually seeking was elusive: he needed to find a way back to the light. Because despite his deep and real faith in God, Dad's sense of hope was diminished, and he felt adrift. Until out of the blue, God showed my father a new path.

During the announcements at church one Sunday, he heard about an organization called Rebuilding Hope that was doing construction work for people in his rural community who were older or had disabilities. They needed volunteers with his skill set; he was intrigued.

Dad soon joined them in their work, restoring homes in his community for the most vulnerable people. He served at Rebuilding Hope for the next ten years, in hands-on construction work and on the Board of Directors. In addition, he assisted with seasonal fundraisers and summer mission weeks. He also loved attending their weekly men's Bible study. But his favorite projects were the ramp-builds. 

Rebuilding Hope was a door God held open for Dad. Through it, he walked from the dark space of sadness and into the light that comes from joining God's work in the world. The charity offered an invitation to step away from his suffering and support others who were hurting.

Although it wasn't the retirement my father envisioned when he bought that parcel of land on the lake, Dad's greatest joy in that decade after my sister died came from sharing his skills and his faith at Rebuilding Hope. As he rebuilt and repaired homes for the people in his community, he felt his hope being rebuilt and restored. Because building up and serving others is a powerful way to heal what seems destroyed.

Experiencing spiritual hope on earth often requires something of us – a decision to enter into it and receive it. 

God says to hold onto hope unswervingly, to exercise endurance inspired by hope. With minds alert and fully sober, we are supposed to set our hope on the grace that will be brought to us when Jesus returns. If we hope in Him, He will renew our strength. He will fill us with joy and peace when we trust Him, causing us to overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. God asks us to act – hold, exercise, set, trust – to fully experience the hope freely available to us, a gift from Him.

Acting in faith means continuing to live after loss, serving and praying for others when we feel bereft, receiving God's comfort through reading the Bible, and being in community with other Christians. It means trusting that God is telling the truth, that He will renew our strength and fill us with peace, not just in Heaven, but now.

Walking through that door and down the ramp every day, leaving the constricting walls of hopelessness behind, and living in the light God calls us into on earth means doing things when we don't feel like it. And it’s from God, not ourselves, that the power and opportunity come to move into the promised feeling of hope despite our emotions of sadness, despair, and suffering. He enables us to proceed in the truth that we are meant to exist on earth with a living hope.

It’s critically important that we participate in this earthly expression of hope. Because, as Christians, if we don't live with hope in the world, why would people want to know Christ? Demonstrating our living hope isn't just about us; it's a powerful witness to the hurting and hopeless people around us. Our hope matters.

After a decade of service, Dad retired from Rebuilding Hope to move back to Virginia. He will miss his work with them and the people he served. But he is looking forward with hope to the next season as he trusts God with his future. And so am I.

Rebuilding Hope, Inc. is based in Henderson, NC. They repair homes and build ramps for those who are financially or physically unable to do so themselves. Repairing homes provides a vehicle for sharing the love of Christ with hurting people. Christian men and women from many denominations join together to do mission work in their back yards. Rebuilding Hope also hosts large youth mission teams through their "Servants on Site" program. Each summer, they host and facilitate a "Kids' Construction Camp" for children to learn general construction skills, and more importantly, to learn about how God wants to build a strong foundation in their lives. Read more about Rebuilding Hope at rebuildinghopeinc.org.