Prisoner of Hope

As for you, because of the blood of my covenant with you, I will free your prisoners from the waterless pit.  Return to your fortress, O prisoners of hope; even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you. (Zechariah 9:11-12, NIV)

I’ve been reflecting on this verse since it was sent out by I was struck by the phrase “prisoners of hope.” What does it mean to be a prisoner of hope? Such an odd phrase, but very powerful. If I am a prisoner of hope, everywhere I turn is hope. I can’t bust out of hope. I’m shackled to hope. It’s hope–morning, day and night. The same balanced heaping of hope served up for three square meals. I go to bed faced with hope, and wake up to more hope. A guard is at the door making sure the hope doesn’t escape. Even when I’m alone in solitary, hope’s hanging there with me.

 I really like the phrase that follows, too: “I will restore TWICE as much to you.” For the past seven months, this autism thing has rocked my world. It has slammed me hard. I’ve asked God “why?” so many times. Why did this happen, when I prayed over this child since before he was born, and specifically prayed health and wholeness over him as I rocked him night after night? He was healthy, and wonderful, and perfect, and then it was like everything I knew was taken from me. How cruel is this that a disorder that is so core to who a person is and how a person communicates with others–and has no known cause or cure–would strike this God-fearing family that devotes itself to putting God in the center of all we do? And, finally, God can I really trust you with my life? Now when I can’t “make” everything happen by my own doing, can I trust you to bring healing and great help to my son? Can I trust you to keep this family strong for this fight ahead? Can I trust you that no matter what, you are in control and you are going to bring all things together for good for those who love you, whatever that “good” may look like?

Well, I’m wrestling with this stuff, and I think God’s okay with that. So many good people get hit with tragedies and health problems, and it’s not fair. I’ve had my doubts and my wanderings and my questions, but I really have never given up hope. And, my hope and prayer is for full healing and restoration for my son, and I’d like for twice as much to be restored to us for our former troubles. Sound like a lot to ask? I can’t help it, that’s what happens when you’re a prisoner of hope.


4 Responses

  1. I’ve had people ask me how I know that God exists – and my answer is “hope” – God is always with us and in my mind, the most pervasive demonstration of his presence in the human life is through hope. This is even more obvious (to me) in the hope parents have for disabled children. Nature and randomness would dictate that we abandon or dismiss or discard in these cases – yet we hope and we persevere and we elevate and we escalate… anyway – I appreciated your post today, especially in light of Holy Week. Thank you!

  2. […] things to feel hopeful about. I could go on more about hope, but my wife did a great job in her latest posting, so I’ll just leave it at […]

  3. part of my homework assignment is to discuss hope. I’m afraid of it so I haven’t touched it yet. It is quite a deep subject.

  4. […] couple of years ago, I wrote a post about being a “prisoner of hope.” Essentially, being trapped in hope. This is the scripture it was based on: “Return […]

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