Hope Against Hope Excerpt by Libbie Hall
An excerpt from the book Hope Against Hope, living your life so that no trial is wasted.
The door opened and in he came; my handsome, sweet boy. His facial hair had grown in scruffy and he was disheveled. When I looked at him I saw the little boy he had once been, before he started down this dark path. I was unaware back then that he had chosen this. He told me recently that he had been just 12 years old when a friend at school offered him Marijuana. Despite everything we taught him, all he had been told, he said yes. It was the first step on a winding spiral to the depths of my deepest despair. He was someone completely different when he was on drugs. Someone I didn't know, and didn't want to know. The enemy had stolen my son from me. I was grieving the loss of every moment and my heart was devastated.
Testimony began. Every single word was like a dagger piercing my heart. Drugs, masks, guns...I knew these things coming in, but still, my heart was not prepared. He was facing 22 years in prison. 22 years. I was sure I was bleeding out right there in the courtroom. I was afraid to look down for fear I would see a puddle of blood beneath the bench I was seated on. Nausea began to swirl inside of me, I wasn’t sure if I would pass out or throw up. I had to get a handle on myself. I forced myself to breathe and look around. I glanced down at the floor, no blood. My heart was still intact, but how? How was that possible? I could feel that it had been ripped right from my chest. But it wasn’t, and no one noticed the complete devastation of a mother sitting in the midst of her worst nightmare. I was living the longest two hours of my life.
Finally, it was over. My son glanced my way and blew me a kiss. I sucked in what little air I could manage and kissed him back. My son. My precious son. How did we get here? There was guilt and shame, fear and frustration, anger and hopelessness. These feelings were all warring on the inside of me, fighting to take root and to destroy my soul. I stood up, numb from the experience. I’m not sure how my legs found their way out of the courtroom and to my car. Somehow I managed to fumble through my purse and find my keys. I fell into the driver’s seat, closed the door behind me, and wailed. Sounds from deep within me filled the air, cries for mercy and the grace of a God I knew was real but that felt so far away in that moment. My son. My precious son.
I began to rifle through the files in my brain, through the Scriptures that had filled my prayers in recent days. “God, remind me what You said, remind me of Your promises, I believe they are real.” I sat there, breathing in and out for what seemed like an eternity. Gradually I began to remember. I remembered the Scriptures God had led me to in my prayer time, when I cried out to him to rescue my son. He reminded me that this battle was not about this life. It was not about a boy who would grow into a man and have a career and live a life on this earth. No, it was about a soul. One single soul, and the fight for where it would one day reside. My fight was for his soul. So, in the car that afternoon, I lay my son down on the altar again. “Here he is, God. Save his soul by whatever means necessary.” Yes, the hardest prayer I have ever prayed. If it took time in prison to rescue his soul, then so be it. I surrendered my own will in order to follow God’s. Only He knows our future.
With trembling hands, I opened the Bible that sat on the seat of the car. I turned the pages that were worn and written on and came to Ezekiel 36:26. I prayed from this portion of Scripture the prayer I had prayed so many times lately. “God, give my son a new heart and put a new spirit in him. Remove his heart of stone and give him a heart of flesh. Put Your Spirit in him that he would be careful to keep your laws.”
Why am I telling you this? Am I simply vomiting my painful memories to purge myself of the past? No. In the midst of a previous battle in my life, I made a promise to God. I told Him that nothing in my life would be wasted. He made the same promise to me. And He made that same promise to you. The Scripture says in Romans that all things work together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose. So I will share these moments, these dark memories, in hopes of reaching you. In hopes of showing you that there is still hope. Even when hope seems gone. Yes, even when it feels like you are bleeding out in a courtroom full of oblivious passersby. There is hope. When you feel like you are too far gone, I promise you that you are not. Nothing is too difficult for Him. Whatever you are facing right now...it is not too difficult for Him.
Libbie is an author, blogger and speaker. She is married to Brian and they have 3 children and two dogs. She has been leading worship for over twenty years as a Worship Director and Creative Arts Pastor. Prior to her time in ministry she was a Global Career Development Facilitator and the Director of Career Services at a university. Libbie is a self proclaimed storyteller, and loves to present the Bible in a way that compels people to live their life as God has purposed.