Hope is hard. It’s a fact of life.
But hope is also beautiful. It means we’re choosing to believe that there is indeed a light at the end of a very dark tunnel. That, my friend, is no easy feat.
Hope is counting on and clinging to what we cannot see. Hope is what we grab hold of as we’re searching for peace in the middle of a war. Hope is not always comforting, but sometimes it’s all that’s left.
If hope were a person, I wonder what he’d say or what he’d do. I’d like to believe that he’d take my hand and say “here’s my hand, you can squeeze it.” Hope would know that if I can’t change my present circumstances, I’m better off knowing I don’t need to endure the battle ahead alone.
Faith and hope work closely together. Without faith, how could we hope? How else could we confidently say,”everything will work out.” Hope is the product of faith in something. In anything. In anyone.
C.S. Lewis once said that “Faith is the art of holding on to things in spite of your changing moods and circumstances.” Sounds a lot like hope doesn’t it?
Not everyone may believe in God or a supernatural being, but it’d take an incredible amount of convincing for someone to tell me they didn’t have hope. We hope in our friends, our family, our circumstances. In tangible things.
However, I’ve found the most beautiful sort of hope is that which can’t be seen or heard or touched, but still believed in.
Hebrews 6:19 “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.”