I wrote the poem that follows at the end of March 2020. I was brought back to it again today. We cling to hope still, waiting expectantly, and longing for the day when every tear will be wiped away, and the glory of the Lord will be our light. Hope is not simply an emotion or a feeling. Hope is a Person and His name is Jesus Christ. He came in the flesh, died, rose from the dead and ascended to heaven so that we can hold fast to our hope. Hope not just for a better tomorrow on earth, but for a better right now. Not as in “I hope COVID is done soon” sort of hope, but rather, a hope for a future where all people are united as one with no discrimination, prejudice, abuse, neglect, rejection or despair. Hope of a world made new.
In less than two years, cancer has taken three moms in my congregation away from their families, it has pulled, stretched and tore at the resiliency, strength and hope within others. COVID has stolen lives, livelihoods, hugs and gatherings with friends and family. Trauma grasps at minds and hearts, struggle for power and control disproportionately takes down the marginalized, racialized, stigmatized and and those who are “small-sized” in the eyes and hearts of those who control them. When will it end?
Can hope start inside our very hearts? Yes! Hope originates in Christ, but we are His messengers and the ones He entrusts to bring hope and healing to this generation right here and right now. As we wait, we hope for tomorrow, we can bring hope to a hurting generation right now, and we turn our eyes and our prayers to our One True Hope.
“Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13
Hope (A Poem)
He stood watching, waiting. When would it end? When did it even begin? This pain, this grief, this immensity of emotion. The intensity was overwhelming some days.
But he persisted, he stood. Watching. Waiting.
He looked up to the sky, “Where are You in all this Lord”? His cry pierced through the darkness of night. A peace enveloped his soul. God is here. God is near.
The solitude of night surrounded him, enveloping him like a cloud, or like the light of God.
And then he felt it. Barely perceptible at first, honest, open, and real. It seemed out of place here, in the darkness of night. But somehow, some way, it persisted.
Growing in strength, in fortitude as it slowly enveloped all that he was. Glimmering, shimmering, expectant. Unaware of its own power and strength.
And still he stood. Watching. Waiting. Awash with Hope.
Growing Into Up 