Living Out Hope: Why Writing Is So Important

Because of course there would be sisters.

Divinely appointed.  Paths crossed.  For such a time as this.

sisters 2

The oldest insisted upon bringing her younger sister.  She couldn’t just leave her behind.

As an older sister myself, I know the feeling.  You can’t just leave a sister behind.


Lately I have felt challenged.  Challenged to write more, share more. To scratch out stories and dare to open my hands and my heart.  Feeling small, when all I have to offer are loaves and fishes that could never feed the multitudes.  Feeling raw and vulnerable, called to lay my life on the alter daily, a living sacrifice.  Feeling called to piece together stories that bring out me and all my ugliness yet more powerfully the glory of His grace and His mercy.

Perhaps some may think there is no purpose to writing.  To literature.  To English.  But I am realizing quite the opposite.  That Creator-God knit me together in my mother’s womb, formed my inward parts, and has something He wants to say.

And even more profoundly, what keeps me on my face, is that He would want to say something through me.  Something to my sisters. To grab their hands and help pull them out of the ugliness.

Because where He guides, He provides.  If anything, this year has been a year of His provision.  Him graciously providing what I need to keep doing what I’m doing.  Lavishly taking care of me in ways my mind can’t conceive and ways I know I don’t deserve.

Because He has something He wants to say.  For such a time as this.

And, even more than that, a truth that cuts me to the heart, is that His provision doesn’t depend on any human hand.

His purposes, His calling, and His ability to provide for me are not dependent on any external thing.  It’s not a matter of who one’s parents are, what one’s family is like, whether one grew up in public school or Christian school or homeschool.  None of this limits Him.  None of this qualifies or disqualifies.

Because His purposes are not dependent upon who birthed you but on the One who rebirthed you.

It’s about something much deeper, something that the frailty of life can’t wipe out.

It’s about whether my heart is willing.

“Blessed (happy, enviably fortunate, and spiritually prosperous—possessing the happiness produced by the experience of God’s favor and especially conditioned by the revelation of His grace, regardless of their outward circumstances) are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

Matthew 5:8

Only God knows why things are the way they are sometimes.  But I believe there can rise up a new generation.  A chosen generation. A generation called to proclaim the praises of Him who calls out of darkness into His marvelous light (1 Peter 2:9).

Because more than ever there is a stirring.  A desire to fully live.  To not miss out.  To take chances, to be open to His leading, to step out and see Him.


A girl slides in step beside me walking out of class.

Walking towards my car, the sun setting behind the barren trees she says:

“Thank you for sharing.”

My pulse quickens.  She says there’s a reason she heard me read my stories in class, that she needed to hear them, that she needed to hear a new perspective.

And I realize that this is what it’s all about.

That’s why writing is so important.

People need to know that there is hope.

Hope that isn’t some trite cliché etched on picture frames or pillows.  Hope that lives and breathes.  Hope that is lived out.

Because living out hope is far more powerful than ever writing about it.



So reading thirty books and driving an hour and a half everyday and waking up before light and brewing coffee into the afternoon.  For one girl–one sister–to help in any small way to take her hand and pull her out of the ugliness.

It makes it all worth it.

“Keep writing,” she says.

window 2

door knobs


I get the sense that there is more.  That this is just the beginning. That He’s up to something.  I don’t fully know what.  And I’ve learned that that’s ok.

“…but my words are of a kind which will be fulfilled in the appointed and proper time.”

Luke 1:20b

Continuously reminding me that this is not in vain.  Something is growing, just not ready yet to be born.

Something to help my sisters.

joan and nouras

joan and nouras 2

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