What if we saw it as more than a word on a pin, this word, “Hope”?
More than a trendy phrase about an anchor, more than the middle word in the group of three?
What if we knew this emotion called hope as more than a
word in passing, a vague and wavering optimism?
“Well, I hope so.” we say, as if hope is nothing more than a rare and pitiful possibility.
This morning, I rose to begin the day from the space on the carpet next to my bed.
Groggy and thankful for the ease of waking like clockwork without a clock.
My folded up, sleepy legs found their way to bending knees to rest in a downward pose to pray.
This morning, simply, “Jesus, help me today.”
I read from the Book of Hebrews, chapters 4 -6 and found the familiar phrase there.
Hope, an anchor for my soul, a catchy quote, trendy phrase.
I colored in my margin, drew an anchor, a sky, an ocean and a moon. Mornings like this, and my Bible are gifts.
Fingers blending dusty colored pastel, a delicate touch on the border of a fragile page, I thought of hope.
The middle child in the faith, hope, love family. Hope.
Reading the verses just before the one I knew by heart, understanding a little differently, more clearly and stronger today. This sweet little pretty word, what a mighty thing is hope.
I read the whole chapter, the whole book and saw hope, the way God longs for us to see…to see Him, our hope.
Saw it as certainty, read about histories and lineages of people who understood hope.
That hope is unchangeable.
Hope is God’s promise and we know he keeps his word.
I read that hope is earnest assurance and that we might sway, but hope cannot be moved once established.
Hope, I read, is a better thing for those God calls beloved.
So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise, the unchangeable character of His purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie,we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement
to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf.
Hope, the place of pausing to rest my seeking knees, my open heart every morning, to be anchored in certainty.
Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story.