May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13)
I
tend to be OK until someone asks me about something. Today’s topic is hope, and
one of the questions the devotional asked is (of course) “What are you hoping
for this Christmas season?”
“Red
alert! Red alert! The enemy is approaching.” What do I hope for? Hoping is the
best way I can think of to not get what I hope for. It’s dangerous to finish sentences
that begin, “I hope…”
There’s
another side to this reality. I made a list of things to look for at the yard
sale, and found several items from the list and a few that weren’t on the
list. That list was technically a hope list, but I didn’t say, “I hope…” No, I
was going to look for those items, not hope for them. I got a desk (with drawers!)
and two two-drawer boxes, neither of which was on my list. Getting them
required that I remove my old desk (no drawers) and the old dresser with the
broken drawer. I put them at the curb with a “free” sign. I didn’t hope they would
disappear, but I was open to the preferred possibility that I might not have to
take them to the transfer station. They have both disappeared. But I didn’t “hope.”
Yes,
I recognize that there’s a problem here. I suspect I’m not the only one with what
I’ll call injured hope. Your stories might differ, but I’ll bet you have stories. Or if not, you probably
have hopes, and that’s better still. I’m thinking that I will hope for
healing for my hope – or hope for hope – this season.
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