Hope begins in the dark, spilling forth rays of light from empty tomb. Casting its magic upon the desolate and barren.
Creeping tendrils of goodness snake their way through the shadows, erupting with resurrection’s dawning of grace. Of glory.
Hope springs from temporal to eternal in the twinkling of an eye, beholding the face of a Savior revealing salvation for the first and for forever.
Hope changes me with the Unchangeable. Unveiling and covering in one fell swoop of faith unleashed. Tearing the veil. Inviting me beyond, and near, and into the holy.
Radiant light releasing the power of sin and death, shifting kingdoms to rule or to fall in obedience to faith fulfilled. To promises kept.
Hope shares an ongoing conversation with my soul, beckoning me to believe. And to believe again. And still.
Hope abides, remembering and celebrating this thwarting of doubt, rallying beneath the standard of Truth.
Hope remains as I become. It grows, sometimes silently but always earnestly. Perseveringly. Drawing me to be. Inviting. Beckoning. Initiating and completing this process of belief, of becoming one with Christ.
He in me and I in Him.
Shifting, expanding, delivering me moment by moment.
Translating life into the language of my soul in ways for which I have no words, yet understand completely. Pausing to be wholly present in the here and now of my life as I look expectantly toward the future revealed by heavenly hand.
I rest in this calling to live, and to move, and to be in Him who is beyond all comprehension, yet determined to make His home in me.
I live in this hope.
And in this hope I am held.