2.28.2011

Hope

Hope is a word.
It’s a four-letter word…not that kind of a four letter word…but a different kind of word.

It isn’t negative.
It isn't positive either.
Hope plants itself somewhere in the middle.
It is a borderland word.

It is a word that provokes thought.
It is a word of possibility…what is…what was…and what will be.
It must stretch and relax within the realm of tension.

Hope is a gift.
Hope causes patience, delayed gratification, bliss.
The soul rejoices when hope fills the heart.

Hope is based on a mentor’s experience.
Hope is a sunny day in a hammock.
Hope is a newborn baby.
Hope is like snow…magical, soft, silent, still, pure.
Hope is a pool of blood at the foot of a cross; hope is an empty grave.

Hope cannot exist in isolation.
Hope isolated dies…it must be around others that hope in order to survive.
Hope in community receives all it needs to survive: sunlight, water, and fertilizer (this is the stuff of magic; fertilizer is waste excrement but it is in this stinky nauseating disgusting steamy mess where hope is birthed and nurtured).
Hope has parents that go by names like: despair; desolate; destitute; fearful; empty.
Hope has offspring that go by names like: heaven; peace; joy; fullness; love; miraculous.

Hope is a phoenix: it is mis-perceived/conceived expectations; it dies; then is rebirthed better and more beautiful than our imagination can imagine.
Hope isn’t idle, nor is it sprinting.
Hope is a sunset stroll under an umbrella of giant oak trees.

Hope cannot be found…yet when hope is found, it's an ah-hah moment.
Hope is progressive.
Hope moves forward no matter the weight of the burden.
No obstacle, no disaster, nothing can prevent hope.

We hope for change, for better times, for improvements, for hope.
But hope learned long ago to give us what we need…and not what we want.
A heart full of envy, pride, lust, envy, sloth, greed, and gluttony leaves no room for hope. 
Hope finds room in an empty heart.
When we long for…when we pray without ceasing…when we persevere…we hope.
-written by Justin Steinhart (a friend from New Life)


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