Hope Under Assault

I don’t own a television. I know, what rock am I living under? It’s actually quite cozy here. I often blame my Nigerian father: he wouldn’t let me watch television on weekdays, even if I'd finished my homework. The habit stuck and gave me a superpower: I can be incredibly entertained by anything I turn my attention to. The Bible is one such point of focus, and the dimensions of drama, miracles, and thought-provoking concepts always leave me speechless. Regardless of your spiritual identity or background, I hope you’ll ride along with me as I discuss an episode of my only television show.

I’ve been reading the book of 2 Kings, and a LOT is going on. In Chapter 19, we encounter King Hezekiah, who was one of the more reputable kings — most of those jokers were wild. We’re told that he trusted in God and was obedient to the commandments. As we read on, we see that in his 14th year of leadership, another king, Sennacherib, attacks King Hezekiah’s nation (Judah) and sends messengers to reiterate his plans of destruction. This is one element of life that we all despise. You can be minding your business, doing your best, following the rules, and some uncontrollable stressor knocks the breath out of you. Cancer, the death of a loved one, a traumatic event, domestic or international incidents that disrupt the stability you’ve curated, the end of a relationship that you gave everything to. They each leave us (barely) standing at an intersection of choices: do nothing, remain in denial that reality is shifting, or acknowledge the new reality.

King Hezekiah is understandably stressed, so much so that he tears his clothes, covers himself in sackcloth, and goes to his place of worship. He also sends his chief of staff to consult with a prophet. Where do you go to process and problem-solve the painful things in your life? Do you take to social media? Call friends or family? Quietly engage in old habits? I’ve learned that where we go is a matter of muscle memory, and only we can decide whether to walk the same paths or carve new ones. Usually, we are simply seeking comfort and validation. We want to dull the pain, but we also want to know that our reaction is reasonable: that someone else agrees the situation is absolutely as outrageous, ridiculous, or ludicrous as we think it is.

I love that King Hezekiah is strategic, even in his distress. He could’ve co-ruminated with his chief of staff (e.g., sent screenshots of the email or text message with an accompanying audio note or meme), avoided the matter altogether (e.g., binge-watched Grey’s Anatomy, again), or accepted the inevitable. But he doesn’t. Thankfully, Isaiah sends him words of encouragement, specifically that Sennacherib will return to his land and die there. Now, if I’m King Hezekiah, I would be relieved but also thinking, “Are you tracking what that man said he’d do and what he has actually done to other people?” As if on a diabolical cue, Sennacherib sends messengers again.

10 “Say to Hezekiah king of Judah: Do not let the god you depend on deceive you when he says, ‘Jerusalem will not be given into the hands of the king of Assyria.’ 11 Surely you have heard what the kings of Assyria have done to all the countries, destroying them completely. And will you be delivered? 12 Did the gods of the nations that were destroyed by my predecessors deliver them—the gods of Gozan, Harran, Rezeph and the people of Eden who were in Tel Assar? 13 Where is the king of Hamath or the king of Arpad? Where are the kings of Lair, Sepharvaim, Hena and Ivvah? (2 Kings 19:10-13).

You don’t have to know anything about the gods or kings referenced to catch the point Sennacherib is making: I’ve beaten their behinds, and I’ll beat yours too. This moment, and the ones we experience like it, reminds me why we must catch, check, and change every single unhelpful thought that plods through our minds. There’s an entire, research-backed therapeutic approach to it (cognitive behavioral therapy) because our thoughts are not just harmless, ephemeral whispers in the wind. They govern our emotions, behaviors, and decisions. They are the lens through which we see the world. What strikes me about this moment is the timing, the deeply inconvenient timing. King Hezekiah was already distressed. He did his best to cope, received some encouragement, and then boom, more threats.

There are times when our “enemies”, which include people, institutions,​ thoughts, and fears, can assault our hope. We can’t control the attack, but we can decide on a response.

King Hezekiah spreads out the letter delivered by the messengers and prays to God. Isaiah, again, sends word of encouragement and predicts future victory. Spoiler alert: Sennacherib and his people get slapped up; they go home, and Sennacherib’s sons kill him. See? Drama.

Here’s what I’ve come to tell you: do not let the facts fatigue your hope. In his book Life Beyond Fear, Vernon Gordon writes,

The facts are there to provide insights, not to dilute inspiration...Don’t be scared of facts. But don’t submit to them either. Fact-finding does not have to be fact-binding. Allow facts to be a bridge to innovation, not a barrier to inspiration. Allow facts to tell you the risk but not the route (p. 52). 

What strikes me about King Hezekiah’s situation is that it would’ve been reasonable for him to completely crash out, as Sennacherib had a track record of domination and destruction. When we consider facts, figures, patterns, statistics, and our previous experiences, they can seem like permanent guardrails. They are not. I don’t care what the pattern is in your family; you will have a different story. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve tried to be more disciplined with food or exercise and just couldn’t; this time can be different. I know the whole world feels like a flaming bucket of mess; there will be brighter days ahead.

When I assess someone’s risk for suicide as a psychologist, I consider several risk factors, but one in particular always gives me pause: hopelessness. For me, it stands apart from the others. It feels more amorphous, less static, and perhaps more difficult to intervene on in the moment because it is slowly molded over time in someone’s mind. I do not mean to oversimplify our life’s woes to only having more hope. There are real stressors that we each contend with, many over which we have zero control. I named my private practice Even Still because I believe hope makes us dangerous in the best of ways. In this season, I am daily inviting myself and you to radical hope in all things; I have decided that I am deeply uninterested in the facts.