Faith, Hope, and Imagination
Science has begun to name something many of us have lived.
Recent research has identified a link between unresolved trauma and imagination, among other things. Bessel van der Kolk, in his book The Body Keeps the Score, outlines how unhealed trauma can actually alter brain chemistry in ways that impede the development of imagination.
When imagination is stifled, hope suffers—because hope lives in our imagination.
Scripture tells us that faith is the evidence of things hoped for.
But what happens when hope itself feels inaccessible?
What sustains faith when imagination has gone quiet?
For many years, I walked blindly from one trauma to the next—almost inviting them into my life like a drug. I chased global disasters and crises, telling myself I was helping. And I was. But I was also quietly addicted to trauma.
Living under the weight of disaster felt oddly comforting. Familiar.
But over time, it slowly and effectively eroded my imagination, my hope, and my faith.
I changed without realizing it.
I moved from idealist to cynic.
From someone who felt deeply to someone who numbed.
From an innovator to a worker.
At my lowest point, I sought professional help. I needed a guide—someone to help draw me back into the land of the living. That process began two years before the hardest season of my life: Kimberley’s illness and death.
During those years, survival was all there was.
There was no space for dreaming in survival mode.
We lived one day at a time—and near the end, one hour at a time.
But something was different about that season. I was more aware than ever of the necessity of caring for myself in the midst of the broken world around me. And I was more aware of God’s love for me.
That awareness did not make the journey easy.
It did not lessen the crushing pain of losing my person.
But it sustained my soul.
It allowed me to see that faith is not something I prop up—it is something God sustains. And because God sustains my faith, He can restore my hope. He can restore my imagination.
Here’s the truth: you may be in a dark place where imagining a better state of being feels impossible.
If that’s you, hear this: God sustains your faith, and He Himself is the evidence for your hope. The One who walked from death to life can breathe life into you as well.
And if you cannot imagine the path from where you are to where you long to be—find yourself a guide. A counsellor. A spiritual leader. A trusted friend who can speak truth into darkness.
I was held up by a small army when I couldn’t see past the end of a single day.
That is the church.
So what does this all mean?
God is the author of imagination and hope—His design for us is to be hopeful.
Our ability to imagine and to hope is impeded by the trauma of the world’s darkness.
To regain imagination, we must intentionally re-vector thought patterns shaped by trauma.
This work happens in community—professional, spiritual, relational.
We sustain imagination by prioritizing our own health before we enter the world of dragons.
Scripture tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds.
When our thinking shifts from cynicism to hope, transformation follows.
I am just over a year removed from the greatest personal tragedy of my life, and I can honestly say I have never been more hopeful. This is not something I have accomplished—it is a testimony to God’s sustaining power.
He is the evidence of the things I have hoped for.
I trust Him.
