“I’m calling on the God of Moses, the One who opened up the ocean. I need you now to do the same thing for me” were the words being sung by hundreds of fellow worshippers around me.
Standing in the third row, I clutched my hands together on my chest because they felt too heavy to lift. The lump in my throat wouldn’t allow me to sing without cracking. Closing my eyes, hot tears ran to the corner of my eyes before rolling down my cheeks. As more tears continued to flow, I moved my hands over my mouth to quiet the impending sobs. As if the bright yellow shirt I’d chosen to wear that day wasn’t bright enough, I felt as though my heart was on display for all to see. I remembered the story of Hannah in 1 Samuel 1, who was in such anguish as she cried out to God in silent prayer that Eli, the priest, assumed she was drunk. The miracle she prayed for was different than mine, but the sorrow was the same. I knew God was able, but I wondered if He was willing. Like Hannah, I was hoping and hurting at the same time.
This is the tension of hope. I believe God is powerful. I love Him, I know Him, I trust Him. I‘ve watched Him come through again and again. I feel the hope welling up in my heart when I ask Jesus to open up the proverbial ocean, knowing He can. Yet, at the same time, I’m faced with the fear that He may again answer with a “Yes, I will, but not yet.”
The weight of this delayed deliverance is heavy. As I stood wanting to worship Jesus with hands held high that Sunday morning, my sorrow kept my hands close to my chest. A sort of sign language cry to God asking why such a precious and wholesome request couldn’t yet be met. I lack the long-suffering that’s necessary to endure. I’ve seen Him deliver in miraculous ways in the past, but I also remember the time frame and the cost. And sometimes, I just don’t have what it takes to accept the delay in God’s answer.
I want to borrow from a teaching my friend gave me titled “P.C.H.” and taken from Romans 5. Living in Huntington Beach, California, the initials P.C.H. are part of our daily vocabulary, and they’re short for Pacific Coast Highway. Aptly named, this long highway stretches the entire Pacific coast from California in the south all the way up to Washington in the north. While these initials were easy for us to remember, they really weren’t about this road. Let’s read the verses to get a glimpse at the real meaning.
“We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope.”
Do you get it? The initials P.C.H. stand for perseverance, character, and hope. These three things run on a continuum; we must develop one to get to the next, eventually landing us back at hope. It’s pretty handy that the initials match up with a highway because we can look at them as pit stops along the way. But instead of this road running north to south, it runs in a continuous loop throughout our lives. Hard times will come, and we need to develop a strategy to arrive back at hope each time. So, let’s go on a quick drive down P.C.H.
Stop One: Perseverance
We all hit a rough time eventually. We can’t just throw up our hands and quit. If we believe God means what He says, that He will be with us through trials (Deuteronomy 31:6), and He will make them work out for our good (Romans 8:28), then we can trust Him enough to choose to keep moving forward. This act of developing perseverance is rarely a sprint, more like a trudge through mud wearing the wrong shoes. The walk forward will always feel like too much, and that’s by design. We were created to lean on God for strength. Our human efforts will always be lacking, and therefore, we’ll always need to ask God to fill in the cracks where we just don’t have what it takes in our human will and strength.
Stop Two: Character
After walking through the mud of perseverance, our character is built. Resilience and strength develop in ways they wouldn’t have without the trial. Where we would’ve thrown in the towel and given up before, God has given us the capacity to keep moving forward. The mud feels less restricting than before, and the weight of the trial feels lighter. We begin to realize we may just make it out alive after all.
Stop Three: Hope
The last stop on our continuum is hope. Do you see how we had to make the previous two stops first? Without perseverance and character, we’d still be in the middle of a mud pit, sinking deeper each moment as we surrender the pull of despair. Once we hit hope, we begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel. We can see with our own eyes that God really is going to come through. What started as an obedience to persevere has become something tangible. Hope restored is a beautiful thing, as you feel the weight completely lifted because your hope can’t be squashed by your circumstances. Your God gave you perseverance and character, and that same God is overwhelming you with great hope.
Perhaps you’re reading this and thinking a drive down P.C.H. sounds great, but it hurts too much to hope right now. I understand that pain well, my friend. We’ve all felt a deep desire to hope for something, but we’re too scared of what the timing and the cost will be, so the hurt can keep us from making it to hope. What I’ve learned through many trials is that hope hurts sometimes. We can take our drive down P.C.H. with tears in our eyes, hurting and hoping at the very same time. Those are some precious, delicate moments, and I don’t believe Jesus looks upon them lightly. He isn’t standing at step three, checking His watch, just waiting for you to get through the first two stops so He can give you hope already. He sits, stands, walks, and drives right alongside you every single mile. He alone is the one who can hold your hurt and fill you with hope simultaneously.
Let’s go back to the beginning real quick. As I stood with my hands tightly clasped over my heart, longing for Jesus to bring me hope when all I felt was hurt, He met me. Surrounded by hundreds of other voices singing loudly, with hands lifted victoriously, Jesus stepped right up to me. He didn’t judge me for not lifting my hands high. Rather, He wrapped His loving hands around mine and reminded me that He was with me. And in whatever longing you have right now, wherever you’re asking God to show up, I want to remind you that He is. There’s no speed limit on the P.C.H. we talked about; it doesn’t matter how fast you go. What matters is who you go with, and He is never, ever going to leave you hopeless, my friend.
“We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” —Romans 5:3-5 NKJV
