Hope Over Hopelessness

When God Is Writing a Story You Can’t Yet See

By Cherie Faulk | The Lost Conversation

There have been seasons in my life where hope felt easy.

The prayers were getting answered.
The doors were opening.
The confirmations seemed to come one after another.

And then there have been seasons like this one.

The kind where you’re praying, believing, fasting, standing on scripture, speaking life over situations… and somehow the situation still looks exactly the same.

If I’m honest, some of the hardest lessons about hope haven’t come from strangers.

They’ve come from people I love.

They’ve come from blended family challenges.
From co-parenting struggles.
From watching people exercise their free will in ways that affect people I care about.
From waiting on God to move in situations I cannot fix myself.

And if you’ve been following The Lost Conversation for any amount of time, you already know this isn’t theoretical for me.

This is real life.

When Hope Feels Like Work

One of the biggest tests of my faith over the last year has been watching my husband, Dex, fight for relationship with his son.

Not because he doesn’t want to be involved.

Not because he isn’t willing.

Not because he hasn’t shown up.

But because sometimes life places obstacles between people and the things they love most.

We’ve spent countless evenings sitting at our kitchen table discussing court paperwork, parenting plans, communication logs, schedules, boundaries, and difficult conversations.

We’ve prayed.

We’ve cried.

We’ve gotten frustrated.

We’ve celebrated small wins.

And then we’ve had moments where it felt like we were right back where we started.

The truth is, there were days when I wasn’t battling hopelessness about the outcome.

I was battling hopelessness about the process.

Because the process felt unfair.

The process felt exhausting.

The process felt slow.

And sometimes that’s where hopelessness sneaks in.

Not because we’ve stopped believing God can do it.

But because we’re tired of waiting for Him to do it.

The Day God Checked My Heart

One evening, after another conversation about custody issues, communication problems, and things we couldn’t control, I found myself mentally writing the ending of the story.

You know the ending.

The one where nothing changes.

The one where people never grow.

The one where situations stay hard forever.

The one where disappointment wins.

As I sat there spiraling through every possible negative outcome, I felt the Holy Spirit ask me a simple question:

Who told you this is how the story ends?

And honestly?

I didn’t have an answer.

Because God hadn’t told me that.

Fear had.

Disappointment had.

Fatigue had.

But God hadn’t.

Somewhere along the journey, I had started interpreting today’s circumstances as tomorrow’s outcome.

And they are not the same thing.

Hope Is Not Denial

For a long time, I thought hope meant pretending everything was okay.

It doesn’t.

Hope is not ignoring reality.

Hope is looking reality in the face and saying:

God still has the final word.

Hope acknowledges the doctor’s report.

Hope acknowledges the court date.

Hope acknowledges the strained relationship.

Hope acknowledges the unanswered prayer.

Hope acknowledges the heaviness of what is happening right now.

But hope refuses to make those things greater than God.

Romans 15:13 says:

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
— Romans 15:13

Notice that God isn’t just a God who gives hope.

He is the God of hope.

Hope originates in Him.

So when my circumstances run out of reasons to hope, God does not.

The Lesson I’m Still Learning

If you’ve read enough of my writing, you know I value honesty.

So here’s mine:

I am still learning this lesson.

I’m still learning how to trust God with people.

I’m still learning how to trust Him with situations that involve other people’s choices.

I’m still learning how to surrender outcomes that I desperately want to control.

Because if I’m being truthful, part of me still wants to fix things myself.

Part of me still wants immediate justice.

Part of me still wants God to move on my timeline.

But hope keeps reminding me that God’s delays are not God’s denials.

And just because I can’t see movement doesn’t mean Heaven is inactive.

There are things God is doing behind the scenes that I simply don’t have access to yet.

What If God Is Working in the Hidden Places?

What if the prayer you’re tired of praying is actually working?

What if the relationship you’re worried about is being healed one layer at a time?

What if the child you’re praying for is being covered by grace even when you can’t see it?

What if the person you’re frustrated with is in a process that only God understands?

What if God is doing more than you realize?

Jeremiah 29:11 reminds us:

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
— Jeremiah 29:11

Not just a future.

A hopeful future.

A Declaration for the Waiting

Today, I choose hope.

Not because every prayer has been answered.

Not because every relationship is healed.

Not because every circumstance has changed.

I choose hope because God has not changed.

The same God who opened doors before can open them again.

The same God who healed before can heal again.

The same God who restored before can restore again.

The same God who made a way before can make a way again.

And until I see what He’s doing, I’ll keep believing that He is.

Prayer

Father,

Thank You for being the God of hope.

Forgive me for the times I’ve allowed disappointment to write conclusions You never wrote. Forgive me for the moments when I let fear convince me that what I see right now is all there will ever be.

Help me trust You with the people, relationships, and situations I cannot control.

Teach me to hope again.

Teach me to wait well.

Teach me to believe that You are working even when I cannot see it.

And when fear tries to tell me how the story ends, remind me that You are still holding the pen.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Declaration:
I will not lose hope. God is working in places I cannot see, moving in ways I cannot understand, and writing a story that is not finished yet. ✨

Question for Reflection:
What situation in your life have you already decided the ending to — and what would change if you surrendered that ending back to God?