MIQWEH YISRAEL: hope of israel
O Hope of Israel, our Savior in times of trouble! … You are right here among us, LORD. Jeremiah 14:8
I wait quietly before God,
For my hope is in Him.
We also rejoice in our sufferings because we know that…
hope does not disappoint us.
The Meaning of the Name:
Perhaps the best way to understand hope is to define its opposite—
Desperate… incapable of solution,
Impossible… having no expectation of good or success,
Despairing…not susceptible to remedy or cure,
Incapable of redemption.
I have been in that place of hopelessness, teetered on the edge of the dark. My cries echoing, mocking, falling far on the rocks below. I know the fear there, that terror-filled sense of slipping with no one to grab onto.
The acrid stench of failing faith.
My story isn’t pretty…
Nurtured in a fairytale-perfect childhood, I danced into my twenties with all the arrogance of one born to royalty.
Daddy’s little princess, Mama’s pretty doll.
The dainty little do-good girl all wrapped in adoration.
Life was good. It should be good, after all, I was good!
In my good life no one ever got really sick, no one died, and no one dared do naughty things. Because we were good.
And I put a whole lot of hope in all that good.
But the day the doctor told me he couldn’t give me a pill to fix my muffled ears… and all those faith-filled prayers came crashing back… and the D-word invaded my good little world— that’s when the dark crept in.
Deafness is definitely not good.
And so I wailed and cried and raved and fussed and fought against the not good thing—
And it got worse, much worse. Until my soul was surrounded by the dark.
Smothering despair. Nothing.
And that’s when He came, this Miqweh Yisrael.
The Hope of Israel.
The hope of me.
On a blustery Sunday night in the backroom of a little church in Santa Cruz, a half dozen or so of my friends— elders, wise men— dabbed the tips of their fingers with a bit of grocery store olive oil, placed their hands on my head, and began to pray. Oh how these men prayed! They laughed out loud and cried without shame and entreated God to touch my ears. To heal me. To make it all good again.
And God said no.
And in God’s no I heard all the hope of forever.
It’s okay, Di, it’s okay.
And in that moment and every moment of twenty years since, it’s been okay.
Somehow, in a way I cannot understand or explain or describe, this Miqweh Yisrael has opened my ears to hear His voice.
To hear Him.
Everyday for years and years, as my hearing faded into deafness, He has welcomed me— the not-good-girl who raged and rebelled and failed. And everyday for years and years I have listened. And laughed. And I sing my tuneless song and I think He laughs a little too. A deaf girl singing is definitely not good!
Do you sing a tuneless song of hope to the One who makes a bad thing good?
Are you waiting to see?
Will you let Him be who He is to you- will you let Him be your hope?
From my heart,
Some favorites of mine…
Psalm 31:24; 33:17; 38:15; 42:5,11; 62:5; 71:5