Hope is a flirt.
She bats her eyes at us, beckoning us closer.
And then when we draw near, she suddenly turns and runs.
And as she goes, she looks back over her shoulder, laughs and says,
“Come on! Follow me.”
And we dare to believe this Hope … and so we follow.

Then in moments of darkness, in the depths of the night, in the longest of hours,
Doubt shows up.
He invites himself into our waiting … breathing hot breath down our necks,
telling us to give up.
Whispering “There is no Hope. Hope is dead.
She was never yours to begin with and now she’s gone.”

But then comes the morning, when the light and the new dose of mercies appear.
And Hope?
She peeks around the doorway and says, “Just wanted to let you know I’m still here.
Come on! Follow me! Oh and also…
Doubt is a liar.”

You see, waiting with Hope is playing the long game.
It’s investing now in something down the road expecting a payout.
Or maybe a way out.
A way out of the mess we’ve made.

It’s saying “I know things aren’t as they should be right now, but one day they will be. Of that I’m certain.”
We draw back the curtain.
And wave Hope in.

We are here in the waiting.
In the longing for something more.

For we know life is a gamble.
Our world is in shambles.
We scramble, trying to keep all the plates spinning.
Swimming against a current of culture that says
“Oh hey, what you’re waiting for? It’s not coming.”

But we know better.
We know a better day is coming.
A better way is coming.

We cling to His promise of restoration.
A long ago sent invitation.
An expectation that someday we’ll look back on this life, with tears in our eyes.
Not tears of pain. No, those are for today.
These tears will be tears of joy.

We hold tightly to the promise that one day we will be one.
And we will be with the One who knows us best because He is the One
who made us.

Our restoration IS coming.
We long for rest.
True, soul cleansing, deep and abiding rest that we desperately need but cannot seem to find.
Not yet.
But it’s coming.

So for now we wait.
But while we wait, we love.
We hold onto Hope’s hand and we tell Doubt he is a liar.

And we wait…

Written by Becky Giovagnoni

 

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