When I was a little girl, there was a place at the park where a shelter had been built to overlook a forested valley. If I stood very quietly with bird seed on my hands, chickadees and sparrows would use my palms as their dinner spot. Tiny birds with bright eyes and bold looks would gobble down the seeds and trust me to serve them properly without jumping up and down in delight. In return, their presence thrilled me as I could feel them walking about, tickling my palms and giving me the opportunity to see the details that are a mere blur in flight.
Hope seems to me to be something like those birds. Deceptively fragile, incredibly detailed and something precious to be entrusted with; I try to form it as an image in my mind. But, it is not enough to hope for anything, or it will turn to something small and broken before my eyes. I hope for health, a car that runs, to do my job well, to have happiness and many other things. But, these are small and easily overturned hopes. Health fades, cars break down, there are good days and bad days in anyone’s job, happiness is not guaranteed. If I hope in these things, I am left hopeless.
A friend wrote about the bravery of choosing to hope in the Creator of hope recently. It seems that in a way, hopelessness may be the easier out because it hedges our bets. Her words encouraged me to continue to bravely continue to seek for the hope that comes with Christ. Hope that is not based on circumstances or culture, media or other people. It is hope that stems from what is true and good and right; from Jesus – the creator of hope.
“For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, ” Romans 8:38-39
My hope is in Jesus. I don’t think it could be better placed.