Wandering in the darkness without believing in the light, the light of Christ, can leave us burdened. We might even throw fits ending in meltdowns. But while we have the light of Christ leading us to believe and become sons and daughters of that light, darkness fades. We know where we are going.

Isaiah 42:16 tells us that although we may face the unfamiliar, the dark, and the rocky, God never leaves us. His guidance, presence, and light will always be with us. He promises that we will experience Him in the challenging paths of life.

It can become easy for the Christ-follower to become overwhelmed by an evil agenda or the sin struggles that plague our generation. What if, this advent season, we become overwhelmed by the Light instead? What if we carry our light with such confidence that those in darkness begin to long to experience it, too?

Our world is desperate for light and life. Can you hear it in the political conflicts, relational fallouts, and quest for status? People have an unquenchable desire to be lit up with something that will endure beyond their years, to be fulfilled, to know that they matter. You are carrying what may feel like a measly flame, but it is backed with all of the power and love of the Savior.

God has promised strength and power to those who put their hope in Him. We all grow weary and stumble, but we can be renewed. We all experience times of weakness, but Jesus sympathizes with our weakness. As we choose to place our hope in God and not in ourselves, other people, or particular circumstances and outcomes, we will experience His strength.

In the same way that the Spirit filled a young girl all those thousands of years ago, in the same way that the Spirit hovered over the waters of an unformed sea, in the same way that the Spirit came into the body of a dead man and brought him to life again, so our bodies–through the tremendous mercy of God–have the same capacity to hold that Spirit. God answers the plague of lies by God’s own abundant presence pouring inside us.

We look at the hurt and pain of this world, and we hope for something different, for love to win, for people to be cared for and protected. We look at the promise of heaven and want to see it come to pass. We hope for our days, for ourselves. We hope that we will find patience towards the people around us. That we are living up to our potential. That we will be a light in the world.

But what does that actually look like? What does it mean to have hope when life doesn’t match up to what we are hoping for?

The beauty of breath prayer is not that it only make us present to ourselves, but that we are made aware of the presence of God. We are meant to be in communion with God, and prayer is the conduit to experience the fulness of his presence.

Reminding myself again and again, sometimes several times per day, of God’s unchanging character gave me hope in my messy divorce. My faith has grown tremendously in my divorce recovery, and God has truly been my secure anchor in the days, weeks, and months that followed the original trauma.

As hard as it is, vulnerability is a good thing. It keeps our hearts feeling, open to the emotions and experiences that keep life full of color and beauty. If we close ourselves off to hope, we close ourselves off to the possibility of thriving in life.

There’s a tension we hold between the hurt and the healing, between the sorrow and the joy, which leads to a longing for restoration, for life to be good again, and for the assurance that joy is possible.

As I grew in my relationship with the Lord, I had to learn how to balance my expectations from my earthly father with my hope in my heavenly Father. The distinction is sometimes indiscernible to us, yet it is so significant. It lies in understanding what God has actually promised as opposed to what He hasn’t.

These desert experiences are common to us all. They don’t mean we have erred or that God has forgotten us. But if they are unavoidable, what in the world are we supposed to do in the middle of the desert? How can we bloom in such harsh conditions?

God does not ask us to be constantly busy, nor do we need to fill our days to prove our worth. In fact, He calls us to the opposite. God reaches out and reminds us our worth does not come from how full our days are, or how important we may seem. Our worth comes from the very fact that He created us.

Hearing the doctors say they have no clue why I’m not getting pregnant isn’t the easiest thing to listen to, regardless of how encouraging their intentions. Have you been wrestling with the reality of your unmet expectations lately? Because if you have been, we're in good company. Whenever I need encouragement, I look to Elijah's story in 1 Kings 19. It’s one that I believe can speak to us in this moment.