While attending a funeral recently, I enjoyed thoughts of hope while at the same time offering tears toward they who find hope such a poor friend. That is a pity and must make for a miserable ending to life for they who say to hope: ‘shoo, go away.’
Even the mother doe will stand still for hours, hoping that her fawn will somehow someway reappear from the field of casualties left by the deer drive that bewildered her hope.
The soaring hawk with those excellent eyes scans below looking for his next lunch, hoping he will score.
The pitcher’s teammates are all on edge in the ninth inning, hoping their top ace will finish with a no-hitter. Sure they have faith their pitcher could do it……….they hope he does, but charity here is irrelevant, as hope is king.
The doe, the hawk, and the pitcher all express what men forget, that this truth gives a man strength and a reason to live, a natural response to merely waking up in the morning. I ‘hope’ the water springs from the faucet; I ‘hope’ the milk isn’t sour; I ‘hope’ the package I sent reaches its destination, but ha, even faith covers all forgotten hopes. We are such hypocrites to not give God His place in His own creation, using His tools so freely given.
The last breath of life was called to surrender, untimely as it were, and one more proof of the reality of God-given hope.
We do not honor the death of jackals with ritual and memory, no, we honor the death of friend and family because the spirit of man demands it.
The finger of death points directly to hope. ‘Unto dust shalt thou return,’ and no more humbling five words were ever spoken. Faith knows this. Charity knows this, and most certainly, hope knows that we will rise again. But of these three, it is hope which is the anchor for the soul, giving strength to the weary of heart in the midst of such unexpected and devastating loss.
We do not hope for things that are seen, thus the twin friendship of faith and hope, but the crowning of glory and honor given by God to man is just so darn palpable, especially in death, that even the coldest of hearts must be moved to thoughts of eternity, and it is this ingredient that proves once more ‘I am that I am.’
‘I am the God of the living,’ has been an eternal truth that many have taken to their graves in hope, a hope that has been proven, verified, and endearing. The God of all comfort offers hope freely to one and all. There is no shortage of living water.
Man is the jewel of God’s earth, but yep, we have gone sideways, and maybe even have become rusted jewels, but still, facts are facts, as God has made man a little lower than the angels, and the authority of man over this earth would not be denied by the wisest of serpents.
Of course that enemy and thief of God would steal a mans hope, for true hope pays homage to God and not to the devil, but the valuables, those gems of grace and truth, goodness and mercy, kindness and self-control, these fruits are so despised that it is sickening to a decent man, yet, the accuser of the brethren works full-time to steal hope from hearts that are stayed on the Lord.
When I consider the hope of men who have lost a loved one, the love of God that passes understanding during these times is challenged by some, and that is normal while one grieves. Once the ‘dust’ settles, God is ever more perfect in all his ways, and if the greatest of these is love, how high His love must be, for hope to be so deep in a crushed soul.
Hope more than floats, it sails and soars, to God be the glory in life and in death.