Hope is linked. It’s tied to an object. It is not aimless. It has a course, follows a path, narrows in on a target.
Hope has a name.
My hope has an identity crisis, if you will. It goes by many names. At times, my hope is called Ability. Sometimes it’s named Control or Comfort. Other times I call it Financial Stability or a Respectable Position. Self-Care or Me Time are also common titles. There are even days I refer to it as Productivity.
In theory, hope called by these names seems attainable. In practice, however, it proves to have no substance. To my detriment, there is no hope to rest in when I call it by these names. There is only perpetual searching, longing, striving, doing, working, failing, effort, restlessness, exhaustion.
The name I attribute to my hope determines it’s substance and stability. Rest can only be found in a hope that stands on a firm foundation, one that is concrete and unwavering.
What then, is the name of such a hope?
“For you, O Lord, are my hope…”
Hope has a name, and that name is Jesus.
Hope placed in the object, the person of Jesus Christ is the only hope that will lift my head above the currents and waves of this life and place my feet upon a solid Rock. Hope in Jesus looks to the accomplishment of the cross and it’s power over the past, present and future.
That hope is expansive enough for the monumental and the mundane moments of life. It is strong enough to pierce through the confines of circumstance and the limitations of ability. It's a hope that is…enough. It puts a stop to the striving and sets the rhythm of rest into motion. This hope transcends the confines of the temporal, bringing the reality of the eternal into focus.
Hope = Jesus
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
In view of God’s mercy,