I have heard some people distinguish between happiness and joy (especially in the Christian sense) as happiness being temporary, fixed on momentary circumstances and joy being something deeper, keeping our hearts set on what is better even in hard circumstances.

But what about hope?

Is hope only true and real when it never wavers? Is hope only given to the deserving or earned by the highest achieving, or can if be present in any heart? If hope is lost or diminished, has it vanished or is it weakened forever?

This week, we step back into British history, over 200 years ago, to glimpse the pendulum-like life of poet William Cowper. In sum, he went from the brink of insanity and multiple suicide attempts early on to a revelation of new life and purpose in the Christian faith. And then, another horrid breakdown when he was even convinced God was disgusted with him and wanted to condemn him to death. Followed by amazing hymn and poetry writing periods that have left us with some most cherished verses and songs (and anti-slavery pieces that have even inspired civil rights activists generations later). And then, in the end, several years of sadness after the loss of a dear, long-time friend before Cowper’s own passing.

Some would look at Cowper’s deep doubts and (ironically) doubt that his spiritual conversion was real or that his productive bursts of hope were anything more than rantings and creative delusions.

I am not an expert on his life and inner struggles. But I will attest to the unique struggle faced by souls naturally gifted with high sensitivity and creativity. In order to observe the world and produce wonderful works of art, we must be sensitive to notice and synthesize so much going on inside us and around us at the same time. To maintain this ability, we must remain open to feeling. But we feel so deeply, it is truly a challenge to not live life swinging between extremes in thought and emotion and productive ability.

Sometimes, in the ebbs or the valleys, hope (while it has not left us completely) can certainly seem invisible or chased away.

That is when, as Cowper so famously introduced the thought into our psyche and vocabulary, “God moves in mysterious ways, His faithful wonders to perform…” And, by grace, we come to sense that hope again, the hope that was there to some degree all along.

I bless the name of the God who created each temperament and knows each temperament intimately, the name of the God who does not give up on us when we honestly and understandably struggle to hold onto hope.

I thank God that Cowper did not succeed in taking his own life. And that he discovered, with the help of John Newton, the only true source of grace he could possess to save him from God’s wrath and the only true source of hope that could help anyone withstand any storm.

Then, he wrote, “There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Immanuel’s veins, and sinners washed beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains.”