wrestling with hope

I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! (Psalm 27:13-14)

Over the past three years I’ve clung to these verses as my wife and I have journeyed together through unexplained infertility. Just writing that sentence feels surreal. Infertility is one of those things we’d heard about from a distance, but not something we imagined would characterize our story. Each month is a roller coaster of growing excitement and anticipation followed by heartbreaking disappointment. Amidst the ups and downs, I’ve needed something to anchor and steady my heart, and this passage has been that for me. As I’ve sat with this text, I’ve learned that the Hebrew word for “wait” can sometimes be translated as “hope”. That observation—the connection between hoping and waiting—has been THE tension I’ve been learning to navigate.

If you’re hoping for something it means you don’t have it yet, so you’re waiting. But hope involves more than just waiting. As counselor Adam Young explains, hope involves “groaning inwardly while waiting expectantly.” Hope is groaning, longing, yearning. Hope is allowing yourself to passionately desire something that you don’t have. And oh, how I’ve groaned. I can recall countless moments when I’ve wept, raged, and sat in utter silence before God and with my wife. Our experience with infertility has taught us that hope can be absolutely agonizing.

In my struggle with hope, I’ve often succumbed to its alternatives: deadening desire or self-protective cynicism. At times the unmet longing for a child becomes too painful, usually when someone close to us announces that they’re pregnant. When that happens, the temptation is to see my desire as the problem. I’ll think If I didn’t want so badly, I wouldn’t be hurting so much, therefore it’s better to not want or It’s probably not going to happen this month anyways; I’m just being realistic. While easy and understandable to do, I’ve become convinced that these types of responses are a flight from hope. And hope is what I desperately need. Disappointment in the face of powerlessness has challenged me to wrestle with God rather than give way to pessimism.

And in my wrestling, I’ve come to experience the responsiveness of God. He’s deeply involved with the desires of my heart. He groans with me. He cries “How long?” At times I feel like Jacob, refusing to let God go until he blesses me, or the persistent widow who won’t take no for an answer. But I’ve come to see these examples as demonstrations of hope. Coming back to God, bringing Him my desires and disappointments, leads to the creation of a robust hope. It’s a reaffirmation that God calls into existence that which doesn’t exist (Romans 4:17). It’s a renewal of confidence to know that God is able to create life out of barrenness, as He did with Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Hannah – our great cloud of witnesses. It’s “practicing resurrection” as Wendell Berry so eloquently puts it. So, as it relates to our experience, hope is longing for a positive pregnancy test AND anticipating that it will happen this month, all the while wrestling with God until it happens.

I don’t know why we haven’t been able to get pregnant. Currently we’re gearing up for another round of fertility treatments, which means more medication, more doctor’s visits, and more waiting. But as I prepare to climb back into my seat on this roller coaster, I’m grounded by the knowledge that God sees, God cares, and God responds. I don’t know what longings God will meet in the land of the living. But I’m reminded that bringing my longings and disappointments back to Him is what keeps my good desire alive, and that in waiting I’m supplied with strength that is not my own.

Emmett Richardson joined Barnabas Triad is 2021. He earned is MA in counseling from Covenant Theological Seminary and his undergraduate degree from Presbyterian College. Prior to counseling, Emmett spent 5 years working in college ministry.  Emmett is married to Molly and they live in Greensboro with their dog Sophie. Outside of counseling, Emmett enjoys CrossFit, exploring local restaurants and coffee shops and spending time with friends and family.