We all have it one way or another. The crazy kind. The very-next-moment kind. The far-down-the-road kind. The to-any-logical-thinking-person-that’ll-never-happen kind. The material kind. The soul-healing kind.
For goodness sake, I even just hope for a hot cup of coffee-goodness sometimes.
There’re big dreams out there. Believe me, mine included. (Not the coffee, but the other stuff.)
We’re built to hope. We’re built to dream. Because ultimately and innately we know there is something beyond this life. We’re made to know of Heaven and a world that will be redeemed.
And that’s hope. And that’s good.
But then sometimes, I’m always looking ahead and I get so wrapped up in all those hopes that I forget the grace.
The grace that has sustained me thus far.
The grace that came in moments of desperation. The grace that carried me through the confusion.
The grace that turned the pain inside out, creating something so unexpectedly beautiful.
The grace that brought me to the end of myself. The grace that left me clinging to the cross.
And simply remembering that grace transforms the hope…into hope that’s more tangible, easier to cling to.
That hope is colored with vivid grace.
The hope is directly tied to the grace.
Because hope without grace isn’t hope at all.
And remembering the grace grounds the hope.
Because when Paul begged for that thing to go away–just as I’ve done so many times, God responded with that very grace filled hope.
“My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect in weakness.”
That He would make good of this pain.
Hope that he would do just that. And grace that it would be good.
Can I be honest? I didn’t fully understand that verse until recently.
But when that thing I hoped would go away didn’t go away, it was His grace that carried me, bringing blessing after unexpected blessing. And then I saw him use it, and teach me, and make something huge of the mess.
A giant, unexpected load of grace.
That’s where hope lies.
In the One who can. The One who will. In the One who has.
And then I read this gem of a verse this morning:
“In the morning, O Lord, You will hear my voice; In the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch.” Psalm 5:3
And then I eagerly watch.
Because he will do something. Something good. Something wonderful.
He IS doing something.
Better than anything my finite mind could ever dream.
I know. Because I’ve seen.
I’ve seen the grace.
That’s real, downright, beautiful hope.
Anchored by grace.