From what appears to be nothing–everything

From the broken place–healing

From heartbreak–beating

From emptiness–filling

Hope is what tips the balance from fear to faith

It is the propeller forward

The momentum to move no matter what–because what if….just maybe….

Hope is faithful optimism.

Although the costs are high, Hope

Hope keeps you waiting



With “ravishing wonder” you scan the horizon for the first light of dawn

Hope keeps you hungering

Hope makes you glad

When you are lost, afraid, heart scraped raw, cast aside, feeling like a failure–hope.  Hope beckons you, calls to you, not to condemn you, but to show you the way to better. Hope is a choosing. Even if the cost is high the stakes are steep to choose to hope means to choose to believe in the goodness in the world, in yourself, and in Something greater.

Desmond Tutu says, “Hope is being able to see there is light. Despite all the darkness.”

I have met people and heard stories of great hope this week. An acquaintance who works in an orphanage in China for children with heart defects. Her babies come to her cast aside, unwanted, imperfect. And she aims to repair their broken hearts both literally and metaphorically. Without hope, how would one continue such work day in and day out?

Hope in the heart wrenching or hope in the joyful, the emotion is the same. Browns fans are familiar with Hope. Maybe this quarter, this half, this game, this is our season. And that hope is enough to keep fans watching and waiting and cheering anyways. Children’s eyes sparkle with wonder at the hope of a new toy or long-since visit with family during this holiday season. Eyes which have seen much over the expanse of a lifetime glimmer with hope for promises of heaven. Hope for a city bustling with life and activity on roads that have long-until-now been empty. Hope for OUR town compels us to a new day, a new era.

This is Advent. This is waiting with expectation for light to enter the darkness.

John Calvin quoted in William J Bouwsma, John Calvin: A Sixteenth Century Portrait, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 103

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