“What oxygen is to the lungs, such is hope to the meaning of life.”
Tell me that you’ll open your eyes.
Today, a day to remember the thing deep inside that sets me always looking out, always lacing up shoes, always pricing tickets, always ready to go… Wanderlust or whatever this driving force is provokes hunger and faith and dreams. And they’re meant to be sought out, chased down and captured so that the next chapter looks wholly different from the current one. And it’s a good thing. Maybe a great thing. Wide-eyed I remembered some things about hope today and how it shapes a soul given over to it.
To live hopefully might just be the most beautiful thing I know. To live hopefully means to seek out One who is close and yet cannot be fully known. He’s just that big. That mysterious. That good. And I don’t know whether to run and hide like the children of Israel or to give myself over to His presence like their leader so fearfullyandfearlessly did. I think I am the former wanting to be the latter. Most of us stumble around that part, I guess. But one of these days I want to find my feet.
Hope does not disappoint, so says the epistle writer. Instead, a life given over to hope might just be a life that changes. Herself. And the world. Today I dared hope. Tonight I hope. (Will flesh this out with some words in the days to come.)