I hope...

Almost a full two weeks into recess, I am, in some ways, embarrassed to have not produced a single recent blog post. But in truth I am grateful, because the time has not simply been counted away or tied up in little tasks; rather, it has been a full few weeks, brimming over with the things that make me breathe deeply and sense the sweetness in life.

Things like actually getting home at the same time every day, finishing dinner (and sometimes even clean-up!) before dark, having time to enjoy Castle (the newest Hulu find) AND a full night of sleep. Eating the first fruits of my little garden. Trying new things – a yoga class and my first “real” concert (Dave Matthews Band!) this last weekend – and not-so-new things. Like writing. I’ve actually had opportunity to work on a story – a real, honest-to-goodness authorial undertaking that had been put aside for some months – and I can’t tell you how good, how freeing, how wonderful it feels to exercise my imagination. I’ve spent a good chunk of time journaling, too, which was much needed after several months of crazy.

But something else has been happening during this few weeks’ rest. A soft call, a beckoning. If you step into even the gentlest stream, you will still feel a pull; that’s the best was I can think to describe this drawing.

Many recent sermons I’ve been encouraged by have talked about putting hope in God – not out of religious duty or ascetic exercise, but because He’s what we were made for. All lesser hopes disappoint. If I am disappointed, it is evidence that my bottom line was based on something other than my Creator. Putting ultimate hope in a job, status, or any relationship in this world sets me up for disappointment.

Note that I said ultimate hope. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with hoping for innumerable things. I hope the Holtlet arrives soon. I hope my planes run on time tomorrow so I have as much time to spend with my family as possible this weekend. I hope Allis and I have an amazing Emerald Isle getaway at the end of the month. I hope I will fall in love with someone who falls in love with me. I hope to have children of my own.

But amid all these hopes, some of which are heart-wrenchingly beautiful from my human perspective, sometimes I get a glimpse of how exceedingly worthy God is of my hope. This morning, I was reminded to “be patient… until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, waiting patiently for it until it receives the early and latter rain. You also be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand” (James 5:7-8). In the relative quiet of the last few weeks, my temporal hopes, like that calm stream, have been turning my mind to the eternal.

It doesn’t happen often enough – partially because of busyness, but mostly because, frankly, I like so much of what I have and look forward to. I suffer from the human tendency to elevate the gifts God has given me above my daily worship of Himself. But sometimes, I become aware of it – and only then can I worship Him rightly.

A Sara Groves song a friend shared with me in college has been a perennial favorite. (In fact, I was shocked to search my blog archives and find I've never posted it before!) It’s called Awakening, and when it was playing in my mind and heart a few weeks ago, it made me sigh. After all – how many times must one awaken to the same truth because it becomes your reigning reality?

But then I was reminded to not despair, and – in fact – should praise God for His persevering love toward His children, the gentle draw that opens our eyes - and hearts - to Truth and Beauty and Love... and Hope.

Dress down your pretty faith and give me something real
Leave out the Thee and Thou and speak to me now;
Speak to my pain and confusion, speak through my fears and my pride
Speak to the part of me that knows I’m something deep down inside

I know that I am not perfect but compare me to most
In a world of hurt, in a world of anger I think I’m holding my own;
And I know that you said there is more to life, no I am not satisfied,
But there are mornings I wake up and I’m just thankful to be alive

I’ve known now, for quite a while that I am not whole
I’ve remembered the body and the mind but dissected my soul –
Now something inside is awakening, like a dream I once had and forgot
And it’s something I’m scared of, and something I don’t want to stop…

And I woke up this morning and realized that Jesus is not a portrait
Or stained glass windows or hymns or the tradition that surrounds us;
And I thought it would be hard to believe in, but it’s not hard at all
To believe I’ve sinned and fallen short of the glory of God…

And He’s not asking me to change in my joy for martyrdom,
He’s asking to take my place;
To stand in the gap that I have formed
With His real, and His sweet, and His real amazing grace
And it’s not just a sign or a sacrament, no it’s not just a metaphor for love –
The blood is real and it’s not just a symbol of your faith…

So leave out the Thee and Thou and speak now…

Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us. (Romans 5:5)