Devotional thoughts on Romans 5:1-11
By Mike Berry
It’s easy to see the chaos in our life and feel hopeless. Even more so, it’s easy to become so focused on that chaos that we fail to see anything but hopelessness.
Our kids are out of control. Hopeless. We’ve drained our savings because of unforeseen medical expenditures. Hopeless. The job security we thought we had is suddenly gone like a leaf in the wind when the company downsized and we were let go. Hopeless. We’re struggling to see eye-to-eye with our spouse. Hopeless.
We begin to wonder. . . . Is there any hope?
Hidden but Present.
I travel a lot, and I love it. But when it’s time to go home, I’m ready. Last year I was flying home from a conference in San Diego and I connected in Denver. When we landed I knew this would be a long night. And it was. We were delayed almost four hours. Massive storms were raging all around the airport.
I sat in the terminal by my gate, fuming and frustrated. I just wanted to go home and see my family. But all I could see was this storm and a packed airport. This is hopeless, I thought. Soon we took off, and I was still frustrated. Even though I was finally on my way home, I felt tired. Just then something caught my eye. As we moved just above the clouds, I glanced out the window of our plane to see the most beautiful sunset I’d ever witnessed. It was hidden by the dark clouds when I was below, but up here I saw it was shining the entire time, even though it didn’t appear to be.
I was reminded: behind every dark cloud, the sun still shines.
We Have Hope!
The storms of our life often hide the light of Jesus. But his light still shines, even when dark clouds surround us. We have hope because of his great love for us. And this hope is not dependent on our circumstances. It’s there, present and real. It’s up to us to believe we have it.
Mike is an author, public speaker, adoptive father, and former foster parent. He travels the country sharing hope with hurting parents. He and his wife, Kristin, created the blog confessionsofanadoptiveparent.com.