The Narrow Way

I used to be afraid of hope.
Not because I didn’t want it… because I did.
But because hope made me feel vulnerable.
Hope meant believing that good things could happen again.
And when your heart has been broken more times than you can count,
Hope feels risky.
Hope feels dangerous.
Hope feels like a setup for more disappointment.

So I stopped hoping.
I stopped dreaming.
I stopped expecting anything more than survival.

I told myself, “Just get through.”
Just breathe. Just make it. Just endure.
And for a while, I did.

But Jesus wasn’t content with my survival.
He came for my restoration.

And in this season… through prayer, through therapy, through quiet whispers in the dark,
He’s been doing something holy in me.

He’s been reintroducing me to hope.

Not the shallow, “everything’s fine” kind.
Not the blind optimism that ignores pain.
But real hope.
Resilient hope.
Jesus hope.

The kind that says, “It still hurts, but I believe God is not finished.”
The kind that says, “This valley will not last forever.”
The kind that doesn’t deny reality but dares to believe in redemption.

I’ve learned that hope isn’t soft, it’s strong.
It’s fierce. It’s steady. It’s defiant in the face of darkness.
Hope says, “I’ve been through hell, but I still believe heaven is near.”

Romans 15:13 says,
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

I’m not there yet.
But I’m getting there.
One step at a time, Jesus is teaching me to hope again.

To hope for peace, not just quiet, but deep, soul-settling peace.
To hope for joy, not just laughter, but wholeness.
To hope for love that stays.
To hope for purpose that outweighs the pain.
To hope for mornings where I wake up and don’t feel the heaviness of what I survived.

Hope is no longer something I fear.
It’s something I hold.

Because the One who holds me,
He is faithful.
He is near.
And He is still writing my story.

So even if I don’t know how it ends,
Even if I have more tears than answers,
Even if the healing is slower than I wanted…
Hope is still here.

And so am I.