Can it be...
that those of us who are most hopeful are also aware of the most horrifying?
I read, almost daily, of individual stories around the world that are alarming, angering, even disgusting. And I sit and let them sink down into me. These are real. Someone like me has experienced this.
Oftentimes I even let myself feel their grief and pain. Not always, though. I just read an update sent from southern Sudan about a woman who has lived through so much physical and emotional pain. At the end of the email, the writer says, "I am privileged to carry an ounce of her story with me, and help her, at least through my prayers, to carry her burden of hope."
You see...
Hope is a gorgeous, glorious thing. But it is also a burden. Many are grieved without it and many are grieved because of it. This hope is a heaviness, a joy and a throbbing pain. I hope for myself and for others, yet still am not immune from the disease of despair in this world and in those around me. In my knowing that restoration is both here and on its way, I trudge through my life with two tired feet and a bright smile, with an aching heart and a soaring spirit. I hope for many things while maintaining an understanding of my reality. Even still... I hope. And hope is my anchor-- the grounding weight and the steadying force.
Most of the references to hope in the Bible are of a hope in life not on earth. The saints and the sinners looked beyond this struggling place to one of peace, rest, and eternity. They hoped in Jesus. They hoped in a future kingdom. They hoped in healing. We must hold onto hope for these same things, for life is a crap-hole without them.
Let's carry hope with us, sharing it freely and lovingly, even when people refuse it's wonderful weight. And let's ask Jesus, who daily bears all of our burdens, to carry us through.
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