On Hope
Blog / Produced by The High Calling
The most important word in my Christian walk is hope. Well, faith also. But what is faith but hope for the unseen? Not all I hope for will happen this side of the horizon. I hope for libraries in heaven, for instance. I hope to journey from one place to another in the hereafter. I look forward to knowing what has been unknown.
I look forward to history classes . . . to understanding global migration trails . . . learning Native Americans' various origins . . . meeting my ancestors. . . . I want to understand God's mysteries. Most of all, I want to see Christ. What he must be!
In heaven are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you, Christ said before he left. What place? Federalist housing? A low-roofed ranch house? A teepee? What have I tithed? What have I given? Where is my heart? Is it tied to God's reality in my life? A life that is nothing without him?
I think about retiring—worry about it, actually. Haven't I taken care of you so far? Yes, I say. More than I imagined. Nineteen years ago divorce left me alone to rear two children and face hard economic realities. I pushed on, hoping to find a way. Praying each step because I had no choice. After school on an Equal Opportunity Fellowship, I joined a college staff and rose through the ranks of assistant, associate, and full professor.
Now change faces me again. I will be with you. Even to the ends of the earth. That's what it seems like. But I can face the unknown because I am in Christ. Though the mountains be moved and cast into the midst of the sea, I am with you to the ends of the earth. Hope stretches me, calms, and enlarges me. Hope is like teepee drawings of my family's walk through history. A reminder of what was. A hope for what can be. They . . . will be glad when they see me, because I have hoped in your word (Psalm 119:74). The Bible shows me teepee drawings of past stories and future hope. The Lord will roar out of Zion, and utter his voice from Jerusalem . . . the heavens and the earth will shake; but the Lord will be the hope of his people (Joel 3:16). And from Romans 8:24-25, that sturdy book that fits like a pair of moccasins: We are saved by hope. But hope that is seen is not hope, for what a man sees, why does he yet hope? But if we hope for that which we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.
I look forward to history classes . . . to understanding global migration trails . . . learning Native Americans' various origins . . . meeting my ancestors. . . . I want to understand God's mysteries. Most of all, I want to see Christ. What he must be!
In heaven are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you, Christ said before he left. What place? Federalist housing? A low-roofed ranch house? A teepee? What have I tithed? What have I given? Where is my heart? Is it tied to God's reality in my life? A life that is nothing without him?
I think about retiring—worry about it, actually. Haven't I taken care of you so far? Yes, I say. More than I imagined. Nineteen years ago divorce left me alone to rear two children and face hard economic realities. I pushed on, hoping to find a way. Praying each step because I had no choice. After school on an Equal Opportunity Fellowship, I joined a college staff and rose through the ranks of assistant, associate, and full professor.
Now change faces me again. I will be with you. Even to the ends of the earth. That's what it seems like. But I can face the unknown because I am in Christ. Though the mountains be moved and cast into the midst of the sea, I am with you to the ends of the earth. Hope stretches me, calms, and enlarges me. Hope is like teepee drawings of my family's walk through history. A reminder of what was. A hope for what can be. They . . . will be glad when they see me, because I have hoped in your word (Psalm 119:74). The Bible shows me teepee drawings of past stories and future hope. The Lord will roar out of Zion, and utter his voice from Jerusalem . . . the heavens and the earth will shake; but the Lord will be the hope of his people (Joel 3:16). And from Romans 8:24-25, that sturdy book that fits like a pair of moccasins: We are saved by hope. But hope that is seen is not hope, for what a man sees, why does he yet hope? But if we hope for that which we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.
The demands, pressures and stress of work can put a huge strain on relationships with our coworkers. This 4-day plan from Theology of Work Project and Workmatters provides simple steps you can take to be more loving to your coworkers that will transform those relationships and increase both joy and productivity at work.