Living in Hope

Growing up, I had a firm grasp on what it meant to live in hope.  You see I grew up in a military family and hope just seems to come with the territory.  When I was young my dad would go out to sea for long periods of time.  Unfortunately, life didn't stop when he went out to sea.  The first few days were always the hardest.  My mom and I would take turns being strong and would comfort the other.  After all we were in this thing together.  We'd look at my dad's picture and we'd begin to hope and find peace.  I would go off to Kindergarten with a classroom full of students who were in the same boat.  Looking back on it, I have more respect for those teachers.  The did their best to teach us despite knowing that most of their students were dealing with the absence of a parent.  I'd go about my busy Kindergarten day, slaying dragons and resisting the urge to eat playdoh.  When I would get home, my mom would be there to greet me, often wearing a brave smile.  I'd give her a big hug and smile right back.  Dad had left me in charge as the man of the house and I wanted to make sure that I didn't let him down.  Over dinner we'd talk about our days.  Mine was obviously far more exciting, but I'd let her think hers was more interesting anyway.  Every now and then I would ask, "When?"  That's all that was needed.  My mom would smile and say through a slightly cracked voice the day the ship was expected in.  I had something to look forward to.  I had something to put my hope in.  There were some rough nights to be sure.  My dad was (and admittedly still is) my hero and his absence wasn't always easy to take in, but hope is what pulled me through.  Hope is what kept me going. Hope is what made me strong and courageous.

The day would finally come when the ship was due back.  I was so excited that I would be on the verge of tears.  I remember one time, where we got to the dock and the ship was still a little ways off shore.  I can't remember for the life of me why it wasn't docked, all I remember is that it wasn't.  It sat there just out of reach like the cookie jar in the kitchen.  I stared at it, almost willing it to shore.  Eventually the boat docked and the crew came off the ship.  The loved ones found their respective crew members.  There were tears of joy and quiet hugs because no words were needed.  Then I saw him.  My dad in his officer's uniform.  I sprinted to him as fast as I could.  He knelt down and lovingly scooped me into his arms.  He held me tightly and I clung to him.  I wasn't letting go and he didn't mind.  My hope had been realized.


We often forget the power of hope.  I think it's because we've forgotten what we're hoping for.  It's not something distant with a small chance of happening.  It is an ever present reality that Christ calls us friends and has gone ahead to prepare a place for us.  That is where our hope lies.  The end of Revelation is a beautiful thing where Heaven and Earth meet and God reigns with his people.  Where all the present sufferings of this world are washed away and where darkness no longer has any power.  This is the hope that we have in Christ.  That through his death and resurrection we are brought into this wonderful promise.  I want to live a life that looks forward to this reality.  That in the hard times and the joyful times I can look to the cross and remember where my hope is found.  I want to live in such a way where my courage and strength are found in this hope.  A life where I faithfully live out the charge that God has given me and where when I finally see him coming, I can run to him, let him scoop me up into his arms, and embrace me because no words are necessary.