Joni Eareckson Tada: Sharing Hope

Guest (Male): Welcome to Joni Eareckson Tada: Sharing Hope. When you go through a strenuous ordeal day in and day out, it's easy to lose hope. It's easy to complain, and if you don't do something about it, hope will fade under that nonstop strain of suffering. It'll become just a dusty word in an old hymnal. So, Joni, what do you do to stay hopeful?

Joni Eareckson Tada: Let me go back to the 1970s, shortly after my rehabilitation. It was when I lived with my sister Jay on our Maryland farm. It was great being with her, even though I was still struggling with quadriplegia. Whenever Jay noticed that I was becoming lethargic or on the verge of depression, usually at nighttime, she'd say, "Let's go for a walk."

Under the moonlight, she would push me in my wheelchair down the gravel road that paralleled our pasture fences. I could hear the crunch of little stones under my wheels and the night air felt invigorating. The stars were unspeakably beautiful. A breeze brought the fragrance of pine trees our way and then, with her walking pace setting the rhythm, Jay would break out into singing, "Heaven is a wonderful place, filled with glory and grace. I'm going to see my Savior's face. Heaven is a wonderful place, I want to go there." I would join in and together we would repeat that little chorus until we reached the end of our property. Then Jay turned me around and we wheeled back up the road doing the same thing.

A nighttime stroll like that seems so inconsequential, but to me, it was huge. God worked through the kindness of my sister to actually derail my hopelessness. Those regular evening walks bolstered my hope like nothing else. On those nights, I would drift off to sleep thinking of how heaven really might be just a wonderful place. Looking back on that season with my sister, I can say that my hope was energized through many moments that now seem so incidental.

They were so small, like a time of prayer between her and me with Jay just holding my limp hands or me having to say thank you even when it was hard. It was trusting God in a bizarre turn of events with my health or leaving my sadness behind on a nighttime walk down the gravel road. These were the kind of brief moments that were the tiny workings of the gospel in my life, small ways of inspiring trust in God. When they were strung together, they ended up making a big change in my heart.

My sister showed such kindness to me in my wheelchair that after a while, I desperately wanted to do the same for her. I found that if I stopped letting myself wander into depression, it blessed her. If I affirmed her with extra gratitude, it lifted her spirits. I lived out those small, drastic bits of obedience around our farmhouse. For me, it was a way to mirror back to her the love that she had shown me.

60 years have passed since that season of life, and to this day, both my sister and I remain women of hope. I still live in a wheelchair. My sister now lives with Alzheimer's, and it is heartwarming how we both are still blessed by the small workings of the gospel. The prophet Zechariah said in chapter 4, "Do not despise these small beginnings." God can even do great things through faith the size of a mustard seed. So find a way to brighten the path of someone struggling against hopelessness. Show a little kindness, because a little can do a lot.