hope of easter

as i reflected on easter in tonight's post on my other blog, i wrote this:

the resurrection is the center for our hope in Jesus. the resurrection is the light that came into the darkness proving that darkness could not win. the resurrection is God laughing in the face of evil, sin, injustice, and giving us the freedom to find joy in a world that is still filled with those things. the resurrection lets us know that no matter how hard we are beaten, no matter how unfair our trials and struggles are, no matter how tough our journeys are, no matter how many fingers point at us or how loudly we are shouted down or how ridiculed we are, no matter how many betrayals we face, that none of that is the end of the story. the resurrection lets us know that after adversity, pain, and even death, we will rise again.

i wrote that in an attempt to gain a little perspective in my life, and maybe to grasp at hope again.

i'm not a person who has a long history of familiarity with hope. okay, aside from brief glimpses from time to time, i can't say that i really started to understand or experience what the word "hope" really means until just over a year ago or so. hope is so beautiful. it is a precious and blessed gift.

depression and hopelessness go hand-in-hand. it's difficult then to find hope in an episode of that drags on for so many months at a time. it's even more difficult to have to realize how distant hope feels after finally getting a chance to taste it. i hate feeling that it's been snatched away.

the beauty of hope and resurrection were both peaceful and painful for me this weekend. i found myself thankful that they exist, and that i somehow still know that they are true and good and of great worth. i also found myself feeling grief over the pain of not being able to taste the beauty of hope that i had come to savor just so recently.

i find myself torn between light and darkness, knowing that light exists - for i have experienced it - and yet feeling that i live in darkness. i struggle with surrendering to pain, as i am not always able to fight the pain and ongoing nature of my illness, yet i know that i continually need to seek healing. needing refreshment and rest, i feel parched and tired but don't seem to have any ways to find satisfaction.

i guess i just want a few days off, a few days to feel well every once in a while. maybe i want much more than that, but it often feels as if depression would be much more tolerable if it didn't seem so constant, if i could get a break - however brief - every month or so. sometimes, i just need my vision to be cleared a bit so i can see well enough to see the God's work of redemption and healing in my story, in my life.

in response to what i wrote at the top of this post, i guess i simply want a chance to know that there is more light than darkness, there is mercy and grace, this isn't the end of the story, and though this illness clouds my heart and mind, there is redemption and hope and glory.