Our God, an artist and a poet, is always making new things. What if we believed this was true about the daily work happening inside of us? What if we believed there was a canyon being formed by the river of our hearts as well? That in those small subtle moments when we believe we’ll never grow out of the fears that plague us, it is precisely then that God is faithful to come alongside and cultivate the soil of our heart, creating a place that can hold growth, that can sustain change. It is then that God watches as tiny seeds planted in the soil of our hearts begin to grow, seeds we didn’t even know were there.

Hope doesn’t look flashy or beautiful. It’s not something you can simply post about on Instagram, with a filter to make it shiny, especially when it is a hope for something that hasn’t happened yet. Sometimes hope looks like tears, praying that God will make something new. Trusting in His promises, regardless of your current circumstances.

God has promised strength and power to those who put their hope in Him. We all grow weary and stumble, but we can be renewed. We all experience times of weakness, but Jesus sympathizes with our weakness. As we choose to place our hope in God and not in ourselves, other people, or particular circumstances and outcomes, we will experience His strength.

In the same way that the Spirit filled a young girl all those thousands of years ago, in the same way that the Spirit hovered over the waters of an unformed sea, in the same way that the Spirit came into the body of a dead man and brought him to life again, so our bodies–through the tremendous mercy of God–have the same capacity to hold that Spirit. God answers the plague of lies by God’s own abundant presence pouring inside us.

We look at the hurt and pain of this world, and we hope for something different, for love to win, for people to be cared for and protected. We look at the promise of heaven and want to see it come to pass. We hope for our days, for ourselves. We hope that we will find patience towards the people around us. That we are living up to our potential. That we will be a light in the world.

But what does that actually look like? What does it mean to have hope when life doesn’t match up to what we are hoping for?

The beauty of breath prayer is not that it only make us present to ourselves, but that we are made aware of the presence of God. We are meant to be in communion with God, and prayer is the conduit to experience the fulness of his presence.

As hard as it is, vulnerability is a good thing. It keeps our hearts feeling, open to the emotions and experiences that keep life full of color and beauty. If we close ourselves off to hope, we close ourselves off to the possibility of thriving in life.

There’s a tension we hold between the hurt and the healing, between the sorrow and the joy, which leads to a longing for restoration, for life to be good again, and for the assurance that joy is possible.

As I grew in my relationship with the Lord, I had to learn how to balance my expectations from my earthly father with my hope in my heavenly Father. The distinction is sometimes indiscernible to us, yet it is so significant. It lies in understanding what God has actually promised as opposed to what He hasn’t.

These desert experiences are common to us all. They don’t mean we have erred or that God has forgotten us. But if they are unavoidable, what in the world are we supposed to do in the middle of the desert? How can we bloom in such harsh conditions?