Hope That Holds Us
Resting in a Good Father When Life Is Hard
There’s a simple statement I’ve heard Steve Backlund say that has stayed with me:
Not having hope about a problem
is a bigger problem
than the problem itself.
At first, that can sound dismissive—especially when the problem is real, painful, or overwhelming. But Scripture invites us into something much deeper.
Hope is not pretending things are fine.
Hope is trusting Someone when things are not.
Hope Is the Goal of the Process
Romans 5 tells us something surprising:
Suffering produces perseverance.
Perseverance produces character.
And character produces hope.
Which means the process isn’t about enduring pain for pain’s sake.
The process is meant to lead us somewhere.
Hope.
James echoes this when he tells us to consider it pure joy when we face trials—not because trials are good, but because God is.
Hope isn’t denial.
Hope is confidence in the One who is at work.
Hope Is Not Escapism
Biblical hope is not,
“Someday this will all be over,”
or “At least heaven will fix it.”
That kind of hope postpones life.
Biblical hope is a joyful expectation that a good Father is actively working—right here, right now—in both the hard and the beautiful.
Paul tells us God works all things together for good.
All things.
The painful ones.
The confusing ones.
The unfair ones.
Not because we enjoy them—
but because we are His.
Restoration Is Not an Exception—It’s His Nature
God is not reacting to your life.
He is restoring it.
Restoration is not something He does occasionally.
It’s who He is.
As His children, every trial carries a restorative invitation—not necessarily to easier circumstances, but to deeper conformity to Christ.
Jesus—who is Love—is the image God is restoring us into.
Which means nothing is wasted.
Not the delay.
Not the disappointment.
Not the detour.
Hope Lives Inside Union
Hope is sustained not by outcomes, but by union.
The Father is not distant.
The Son is not passive.
The Spirit is not absent.
The Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—dwells in joyful, mutual love, and we have been brought into that life.
So when hope feels fragile, the invitation is not to try harder—but to abide deeper.
Hope grows as we remember whose we are.
A Better Question
The question is not,
“How do I fix this problem?”
The deeper question is,
“Where am I losing hope—and what would it look like to trust Love there again?”
Because a problem without hope feels final.
But a problem held in hope becomes a place where God reveals Himself.
Reflection
Where in your life have you begun to lose hope rather than trust?
How might God be working redemptively—even now—in that place?
What would it look like to expect good from a Father who delights in you?
Prayer