How to Cling to Hope When Life Unravels

I’d passed the yard on my walking path countless times, slowing my steps to admire the manicured patch of green. I loved the pristine flowers, the vine-covered wall, and the stately Oak in the center of it all.

But on this day, it wasn’t silky blooms that caught my eye. It was a ragged rope dangling from the knotty limb of that old Oak. A paradox amidst the pristine, it looked as if it held a thousand stories in its braided strands.

How many little hands had clung to that tattered cord dangling in the space between earth and sky?

How many little legs had wound themselves around those threadbare threads, too tired to climb higher and too tenacious to let go?

Grungy and grayed, frazzled and frayed, the rope struck me as a picture of prayer.

I wouldn’t have seen the visual metaphor years ago. For much of my life my prayer practices looked more like that stately Oak than its weathered rope. I’d reached for Heaven with bold words and fluent praise. I’d stood steady on evergreen hope and flourishing faith.

Then an unexpected storm of grief wounded my heart and deflated my soul. And prayer as I knew it stopped working.

My prayer life shifted from endless talk to ugly tears, from audacious appeals to awkward silence.

But as I lingered in the Psalms, my definition of prayer expanded.

When I was short on words and long on ache, David’s example in Psalm 63:8 invited me to pray in a different way.

“My soul clings to you…” (Psalm 63:8).

David knew all about praising God in triumph, but he was intimately acquainted with reaching for God in distress, as well.

He didn’t write the words of Psalm 63 from the comfort of a palace; he scribbled them from the confines of the wilderness. The king he’d sworn to serve had become his stalker and the people who’d sung his praises now sought his life.

But as uncertainty engulfed him and armies pursued him, David clung to God like a weary child grips a weathered rope swing. His prayer wasn’t glossy; it was gutsy.

My soul clings to you.

Those five words were my prayer when I crawled out of bed in the morning and when I lay awake in the dark of night.

My soul clings to you.

Those five words were my prayer as I did the dishes and as I drove across town.

My soul clings to you.

When I couldn’t describe my hurt, I murmured those words to the One who heals.

When I couldn’t figure out my next step, I whispered those words to the One who is the Way.

When I couldn’t articulate my anxiety, I proclaimed those words to the One who is Peace.

My soul clings to you.

I sang it in the shower and shouted it in the woods.

I scribbled it in my journal and stuck it to my mirror.

My soul clings to you.

David’s tenacious proclamation became my dogged declaration. And as I echoed his honest words, I discovered this: Sometimes prayer is a way to speak up and sometimes it’s a way to hold on.

When I felt like my life was unraveling, that simple prayer stretched between me and God like a tattered rope.

And day after day, it held.

David knew it and I’m learning it, too— even when we have nothing to say, we can still choose to pray.

Because prayer isn’t always a rambling thread of conversation; sometimes it’s a weary-whispered declaration.

Prayer isn’t always a bold request; sometimes it’s a humble reach.

Prayer is more marvelous than we can fathom and less manicured than we’ve imagined.

Sometimes prayer is like a beautiful Oak and sometimes it’s like a battered rope.

But always, it is a tether, tying our wandering hearts to a Love that won’t let go.

My soul clings to You; Your right hand reaches down and holds me up. -Psalm 63:8, The Voice

Thanks for spending time with us today. For more encouragement on the topic of prayer, be sure to read my devotion at Proverbs 31 today. And, friend, if you’re in a clinging season right now, leave us a note in the comments so we can pray for you.

Also, if you’re looking for an easy way to connect with Jesus this summer, I’ve written a devotional to help you seek Him more intentionally. You can purchase a copy of Encounter here: https://aliciabruxvoort.net/encounter/.

Finally, there’s still room on my speaking calendar for the 2025/26 school year, and I’d be delighted to speak at your next event. I’m happy to share one of my favorite messages or create something new to best fit your vision. Check out my events page for more information and don’t hesitate to contact me if you’d like to explore the possibility of partnering in ministry in the year to come.

Keep clinging, friends! We have a God who holds even when life unravels (Isaiah 41:10).