There is a weariness I have felt the last couple of years. Sometimes it was frustration with the busy-work in my job. Sometimes it was the strain of watching diseases like pancreatic cancer ravage my patients over and over. Sometimes it was the very simple and deep heartache of losing a patient I dearly loved.

Several times I have very much wanted to quit. I wondered why I wasn’t called to something that is simpler, quieter… or at least smells better. I grappled with how to find peace with the things I saw and the way I felt.

In my questioning, God revealed that I have a hope deficiency. I viewed hope as wispy and whimsical… maybe some kind of stubborn optimism at best. But that kind of hope did not stand firm in the suffering and trials I witnessed.

As I wrestled with what hope was, I read Daring to Hope by Katie Davis. She points to Zechariah 9:12 “Return to your stronghold, O prisoners of hope…”. Is hope so strong that you could be locked inside it? What would it look like to imprison oneself in hope?

Later I read, “Real hope is forged,” in Sara Hagarty’s book Unseen. It was the same idea… a hope that was tried by fire and crafted to perfection through toil.

Once I came to God with my newfound hope deficiency (that He already knew about), He went to work with me. It’s been a year of Him guiding me through self-forgiveness, grace for shortcomings, and trusting Him more.

Learning to hope still seemed like work… it’s not something that comes naturally in our broken world. However, I continued to explore and hope began to take on a new meaning… but never so much as in our H.O.P.E. Center.

Mercy Ship’s H.O.P.E. Center is our outpatient center for patients waiting for surgery or patients still needing more time to recover before going home. It is sort of a hotel style setup in a renovated building off ship. Any crew can go twice a week to visit, but it is especially meaningful for the nurses to get to see our patients out of the hospital.

Each patient has a physical brokenness they are seeking healing from. These differences, deformities, or scars are obvious. There’s no hiding it. Hope that these physical issues could be resolved with surgery brought these children, caregivers, and adult patients to Mercy Ships, but God’s healing goes so far beyond the physical.

All of our patients know what it is like to be ostracized, teased, or left out due to their appearance. So at the HOPE Center, there is an overwhelming culture of acceptance and love. People that were once shunned have a whole community wanting to shake their hand and look them in the eye. Parents who were encouraged to abandon or even kill their children because of the way they looked, watch with pride as their child leads the group in a dance and is seen for the beautiful person they are. Patients that once hid their face in shame begin to smile openly at the silly songs we play with the kids.

I watched in awe as the Great Healer revealed His work. Suddenly, I didn’t have to try to be hopeful anymore. I was locked inside it. It was forged in the hearts of these kids and their parents, in the staff and volunteers, in the very fabric of this organization. I sat in the middle of it all… Hope’s happy prisoner.