Have you ever had a time of severe trial of your faith that eventually passed, and you wondered afterward why it was so hard to trust God during that test? I have, and through one of them, in particular, I learned a lesson that I’ve remembered ever since—a lesson about hope and trust in God.
A number of years ago, everyone in my immediate family was experiencing serious personal problems all at the same time, and I felt responsible for things beyond my control (which was almost everything). Eventually, as these situations worsened and I was constantly worrying—really obsessing over them—I fell into a state of anxiety and depression. I didn’t seek medical treatment or counseling because I felt so hopeless that I couldn’t imagine anything making it better. And besides, the problems everywhere I turned seemed so real and unfixable that my wounded mind told me my feelings were true. I tried to turn it all over to God, but then each time I’d immediately start worrying again.
Finally, a few months later, when most of the issues had resolved, or at least turned a major corner—in addition to one that I’d somehow not worried about—and I was pretty well over my depressive episode, I was praying one morning when I sensed God showing me all those things—the ones I’d stressed and fretted and made myself sick over—and the one I’d let Him handle. Then He said, “Which way do you prefer?” Just that simple question: “Which way do you prefer?”
It seemed God was giving me an object lesson in how I could go through trials. He’d let me have it both ways, trusting and not trusting—hoping in Him and letting hopelessness drag me down—and “Which way did I prefer?” My choice.
Romans chapter 5 links pressing through trials to an increase in hope. It even says, “we boast in hope of the glory of God.” And then it goes on “Not only that, but we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope—and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts though the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”
Did you get that? It’s actually affliction that—through a transformation of character produced within us—leads us to hope! And how does this happen? Through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. In my experience, this transformation may need to happen over and over, whenever I’m “in affliction,” in a time of trouble. And it happens much faster and with less inner turmoil when I hold onto what I know through faith. I know, because I’ve recently begun to emerge from yet another one. So, yes, this is still a challenge to practice. But still, even when I falter and flounder, God somehow comes through, because He is faithful. But I do get to choose—so “which way do I prefer?”
During this time of the COVID-19 pandemic, when our lives are changed in huge ways and the stress level is high, we have lots of things we could worry about. But I’m determined to put that worry in its place—in God’s hands—and “have it that way,” because I definitely do prefer that way!
We are told to “enter the Kingdom as a little child.” And we’re to have a foretaste of that kingdom here and now—that state of being where we actually live in the awareness that God is all good and is involved in every detail. Some of the best ways I know (in addition to the Sacraments, Scripture meditation, the Rosary, etc.) are Centering Prayer, mindfulness or living in the moment, having a designated worry time—and then relegating worry to just that time—and praising and thanking God.
Centering prayer and mindfulness—which you can learn about online if you aren’t familiar with them—are practices that both involve being in the moment, not past or future, just in the moment. If we’re being present in our moments, just as they are, we’re not engaged in worry and anxiety.
But I do have a designated worry time, a few minutes (actually, a specific distance on my morning walk) when I tell God everything I’m worried about or am tempted to worry about. When I’ve crossed that point, time’s up. Later when a worry tries to start (or does start), as soon as I recognize it, I say, “I’ll worry about that tomorrow.” In fact, when I start thinking about a problem or concern, I ask myself, “Is this something I can actually do now, and need to do now?” If it’s not, I want to recognize it as a worry in disguise, and toss it to God. What I was concerned about may not come up at all, and if it does, and if it’s mine to handle, He may show me a completely different way.
In any case, at the end of my daily worry recital, and at other times, I begin thanking and praising God. And I seek to be mindful, that is, engaged in exactly what I’m doing at the time—a task or a conversation or working in the yard—and being gratefully aware of what my senses are taking in. This too is praise—enjoying what God has provided: the glossy leaves of a fruit tree, the deep green persimmons forming on its branches, when only a few months ago all was barren.
And here is our hope—that God always brings good out of evil—life out of death. It may not happen as soon as we want or in the way we want, but He knows better than we do. We will never regret having hoped in God. Hope does not disappoint, as Romans 5 declares. So let’s choose to have it that way, the way of trust, of hope.
Romans 15:13 is a prayer that I now want to pray for you:
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Amen.
Editor’s note: The original version of this reflection appeared in March 2020 on the website of St. Mary of the Mission, Opelika, Alabama.
