Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭1‬:‭3‬-‭4

Hope springs forth from somewhere. It’s not a figment of the air. It’s not a random happenstance.

It does fall on us in unlikely times and can seem to come from nowhere. But all things have a source, and it’s good to label them accurately.

My hope comes from the Lord. And you know, I think it always has. Even in the heart of addiction when I was actively walking away from Him.

I believe even then when I would have snaps of hope—fleeting though they were—that it was because I could still faintly recall the truth.

I’m not sure if he comforted me in the affliction of addiction—that seems to imply complicity. But if we look at it in a slightly different light, then perhaps...just perhaps…

If I stop looking at my past as a failure that I’ve now overcome and instead as a trial that I can now use, then even the darkness that I was a part of can be undone going forward.

This doesn’t condone what I’ve done, but it lets me hold the past a little bit more loosely so that I can share it when appropriate to encourage others.

And that’s the whole point, right? That we learn to accept help and then give it back once we’ve got our footing.

It’s also the only way I can stay sane. I’m not meant to ignore the past, though I also shouldn’t simply dwell on it. And in this way, by using it as a guiding light for the good of others, it can be an instrument of hope.

God, help me use my past while I live in the present.