Sometimes we hold on to hope with a white-knuckled grip as we wade through darkness with nothing else to hold. Sometimes our hands get tired and we lose our grip and hope slips out of our fragile fingers and tumbles to the floor. And sometimes our hope gets all mixed up with the good things happening and we momentarily forget our need to anchor ourselves to anything besides the ground beneath us. But we must always be aware of this hope and cling to it tightly, both when the walls of our world seem to be crumbling and when life seems easy and good. It's our greatest gift, and it promises far more than both the sweetest highs and the harshest lows.
I've experienced some moments that are so full of beauty and joy I thought they might burst into a million shining pieces. These moments, more than the moments of pain, are the ones that remind me of my desperate need for hope. Because these glimpses of heaven are just glimpses, and they ultimately end, leaving me longing for more. They're a firm reminder that my heart is made for something that lasts forever--how else could I desire what is impossible to experience on earth?
I rest in this hope; this hope of heaven, this hope in Jesus, our only hope. We must fan this flame of hope and let it catch more and more of our driftwood souls so we can press on through the night.
It will not disappoint. Morning is coming.