Hope Is Always Alive, Even When It Feels Dead

Nothing of the Spirit of God dies, and neither does what He plants in you

Omni Modal AI

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”— John 1:5 (NIV)

Hope that falters is human. I didn’t say sinful or “less than.” I said human. “Human” and “sinner” are not synonymous words. They’re not. Never will be. That’s a religious invention.

That’s not to say that humans don’t miss the mark. They do. However, us being human beings is what God created and He said His creation was very good. As humans, we still are.

Committing sins does not change that. It means we have some relearning to do. Deconstruction of religious invention and reconstruction of right thinking about ourselves.

By the way, that’s what “repentance” actually means: to change our way of thinking. As Paul said in Romans 12:2,“…be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

[Just to nerd out a bit on that phrase in the Greek language: Take on a new form by the process of continually renewing the way you think and act].

Changing our thinking changes our actions

“We are not saved by our ability to hold it together. We are saved by grace.”— Tish Harrison Warren

So you see, here’s what I’ve come to believe — even on the days where everything feels hollow and the sky looks like concrete. Hope didn’t die. Not really. Not if it’s a part of His Spirit that lives in us.

The truth is: hope isn’t a positive vibe. Hope isn’t a personality trait. It’s not something you lose like your keys. It’s a person. Or more accurately, it’s tied to a Person. The Holy Spirit.

And He doesn’t check out.

What if the hope you thought was gone is just quiet?

I think sometimes we don’t recognize hope because we’ve bought into this idea that it has to feel like sunshine and hallelujahs.

But the real hope — the gritty, Spirit-infused kind — is always alive and well. Sometimes it seems to drag its feet. Sometimes it sits beside you and doesn’t say a word. But it’s still there.

The Holy Spirit isn’t in a rush. He doesn’t need to be flashy. He doesn’t need your life to look like a success story.

He just needs you to know He’s not going anywhere.

And where He is, hope is too. Even if it’s hidden under three feet of disappointment and one sleepless night too many.

How do you know hope’s still alive when everything feels numb?

That’s the trick, isn’t it? Numbness lies. It tells you the silence means absence. Just because you can’t feel God, He must be gone. But feeling is not the litmus test for the Spirit. Faith is.

And sometimes, hope doesn’t feel very hopeful.

Hope can look like barely hanging on. The truth: Hope isn’t dead…unless you believe that God can die.

If hope never dies, then it becomes a choice we make.

So what does it actually mean to choose hope?

Honestly? It doesn’t mean smiling through it. Or faking your way to “blessed and highly favored.” Choosing hope isn’t about pretending you’re fine.

Sometimes, choosing hope is just refusing to close the door. Leaving a little crack open. It’s the spiritual equivalent of leaving the porch light on, just in case.

Choosing hope can sound like:

• “God, I don’t get this… but I’m here.”

• “I’m tired, but I’m not quitting.”

• “I don’t feel it, but I still believe You are always good.”

  
  

It’s not fancy. It’s not tidy. But it’s real. And the Spirit meets us in that place. Not when we’ve got our act together, but when we’re honest enough to say, “I’ve got nothing left — You’re gonna have to carry this.”

And He does.

What if you can’t even choose hope right now?

That’s okay too.

You don’t have to force it. You don’t have to pretend. That’s the beautiful thing about God — He’s not waiting for you to impress Him with your resilience. He’s just waiting for you to be real.

If all you can do is sit in the silence, He’ll sit with you. If all you can do is cry, He’ll catch the tears. If all you can do is whisper, “Help…” — that’s enough.

He’s not fragile. He doesn’t flinch when we break down. And He doesn’t leave when our hope gets shaky.

Doesn’t the Bible say something about this?

Yeah. Romans 15:13:“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.”

By the power of what? Not your willpower. Not your optimism. Not your Enneagram type.

By the power of the Holy Spirit.

That’s how you know hope can’t die. Because the Spirit doesn’t die. He doesn’t give up. He doesn’t take personal days off.

So even when hope feels flatlined — if the Spirit’s in you (and He is), then hope’s in there too.

What should I do when I feel like I’ve lost it?

Honestly? Just tell God the truth. Say it out loud, ugly-cry and all.

“I’m tired. I’m scared. I don’t know if I believe anymore.”

You think He’s shocked? You think He hasn’t heard worse?

The Spirit is not offended by your humanity.

He moved into your mess on purpose. And He brought resurrection power with Him.

So you tell Him everything. And then you wait. Open the Bible, even if the words feel like cardboard. Sit outside. Breathe in. Breathe out. Whisper a maybe.

For now, that’s enough.

Isn’t hope supposed to rise again?

Yes. It is. It always does.

Because hope is a resurrection thing. It comes back. Again and again. Sometimes scarred. Sometimes shaky. But always alive.

Jesus didn’t stay in the tomb.And if He didn’t, neither will the hope He planted in you.

You might be bruised. You might be numb. But you are not abandoned. And neither is the hope that’s growing underneath the surface.

So if today…

…is one of those heavy, quiet, maybe-this-is-the-end kind of days, just hear this:

Hope isn’t dead. The Spirit is still breathing inside you. So you’re not done. Not yet.

And neither is He.

“Sometimes we survive by clinging to a hope we don’t even believe in.”— Rachel Held Evans

(For when hope feels like a joke, but you hold on anyway.)

© Gary L Ellis