Dose of Hope: Tanner Olson

(sunrises, cake pops, and community group)

Welcome to Dose of Hope! This is a series about looking for the light, stewarding our stories, and foraging God’s goodness when it’d be easier not to. It’s a collaborative Protest, really, against letting darkness settle into our bones and instead choosing to uncover the grace that’s already waiting for us. I believe these bite-sized Q&As will inspire you to lean into the promises, the beauty, and the little joys right in front of you. Check out Notes of Hope, too, for the glimpses of hope that keep me going.

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When I first heard about Tanner, I was like, “Wow, that feels familiar.” Tanner has written books packed with hope and poetry! (I am writing a book packed with hope and poetry.) Tanner is very funny! (I crack myself up.) Tanner and his wife endured infertility, adopted their cutie pie, and are obsessed with their doodle. (This last part is actually all true for us, too.) Initially, Tanner was relatable. Turns out, he’s also quite inspirational.

Here’s Tanner Olson with a Dose of Hope (you’ll see what I mean)…

How has God surprised you lately?

The other morning, I woke up well before my alarm was set to go off. I crawled out of bed and dragged myself to the kitchen table. I was tempted to open my computer and get a jump on work, something I would normally do.

But something in me said otherwise.

I made coffee, read some Scripture, and kept my phone face down across the room. I caught the light peeking through the blinds and moved to the window, watching the sun rise. Did you know the sunrise is free? All you have to do is wake up before it arrives, and you get to watch God take His pointer finger and swirl the colors across the sky. It’s free entertainment. Awe and wonder have a way of surprising us as they gently remind us of grace and mercy. Orange, pink, yellow. It was like God was smashing Starbursts across His canvas.

Lamentations 3 played over and over in my head as the sky continued to change and come alive.

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.”

The consistent kindness of a compassionate Creator continues to surprise me.
And like His steadfast love—I pray the surprises never cease.

Then, once the sky was beaming bright, I sat down to write and here is what came out:

And in the morning, before the sun has found the sky, get out of bed and go sit with God. Do your best not to look at your phone for as long as you can. The emails will still be there. Instagram can wait. The quiet cannot. Give your morning to stillness and silence. Sit with God. Remember, He is sitting with you. Let your conversation be slow, but honest. Ask for strength. Ask for patience. Ask for a miracle, and remember you’re living one. Tell Him about what is bothering you. Tell Him about the people you love and even the ones you struggle with. Tell Him about the dreams that feel distant in your heart and the fears that seem to grow. Tell Him about the beautiful things you cannot imagine living without. Tell Him what you think, what you know, what you need, what you have done, and what you hope to do. Be still and listen. Do you hear Him? Speaking mercy. Speaking grace. Speaking love. Before you move on, hold fast to the wonder. Ask Him to lead you away from noise and distraction, to open your eyes so you can see clearly and live fully, so you do not miss the beauty and awe of another new day.

How do you impress hope on your heart when your circumstances scream otherwise?

I look back and see the faithfulness of God.
I scroll through photos on my phone and remember the beauty that has been with me all along.
I spend $5 on a cake pop from Starbucks and taste a small reminder that goodness still exists.
I seek the silence and remember that the Lord is my shepherd, and somehow, even here, I still have all I need.
I read Scripture and see how God is in the business of love and redemption.
I pray through the noise and trust that my words are not dissolving into thin air.
I hold my son’s hand as we walk through the store and remember that ordinary moments are miracles.
I chase wonder and find inspiration.
I eat the bread and drink the wine and remember that I am not forgotten, not abandoned, not alone—but forgiven and free.

And slowly, quietly, hope begins to press itself back into my heart.

I remember that hope is not something I have to manufacture or hustle toward. I do not have to chase or choose hope. Hope is something I am invited to notice. Because it has been here the whole time. Right here. Beneath the grief. Beneath the distractions. Beneath the fear.

I open my eyes and see that God is not distant.
He is here.
Still here.
Working all things toward good as He quietly reminds me everything is going to be okay one day.

What are you feeling hopeful about right now?

Over the last few years, my wife and I have led a college community group in our tiny living room. Every Thursday, fifteen-or-so college students drive 20 minutes to our house to talk about Jesus. They teach us so much about what it means to be here and human. They see the world differently. They navigate the world differently. They are bold and vulnerable. They are loving and inviting. They are quick to care and slow to judge. They are who I want to be when I am older.

As a writer, I spend too much time on the internet—and the internet is not a friendly place. Daily, I find myself wondering if the world is falling apart. It is almost impossible to spend time on social media and come away feeling more hopeful about your life or the world. Sometimes the headlines make hope feel endangered.

But then these students walk through our front door, slip off their shoes, plop themselves down on our couches, and talk about the love and kindness of a God I know, but am often quick to forget. We eat. We tell stories. We pray. And through it all, I remember that goodness is still alive and well.

We are going to be alright.

What’s next?

In February, I released a book of poems and essays titled Getting Through What You’re Going Through. With its release, I did about 25 tour dates around the country, sharing poems and stories from the book with live audiences. It was a true dream, but one that left me wonderfully exhausted.

With the arrival of summer, I’ll take some time to get my head around my next book of poems and essays before hitting the road again this fall.

I’ve also got another children’s book coming in 2027, but you’re going to have to wait to find out what it’s about.

And I think I’ll be watching more sunrises. Who knows—maybe I might get a little wild and watch a few sunsets too.

Tanner Olson is an author, poet, & speaker. He travels the country telling stories, reading poetry, and delivering messages of hope. Out Now: Getting Through What You're Going Through: Notes and Poems (Zondervan)

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