There are two kinds of hope.
One is the kind placed in something deliciously guaranteed to carry through and fulfill. Such is the Christian’s hope in Christ. It is a wide, smooth, sun-drenched field of green grass, the roots firmly embedded in rich black dirt. Dig your hands deep in the fragrant earth of this field and its mark will never leave your hands nor your heart. This is hope that sticks to your fingernails.
The other sort of hope directs itself towards an event whose outcome is not guaranteed. This hope rests upon a knife’s edge of anticipated joy. It is a perilous, exhilarating rush of eagerness: a call to arms, an urge to action. It is the leap that may or may not land you on the other side. But the thread of potential success is taut and singing as it stretches forward towards the desired end.
Both are beautiful. Especially when the one informs the other. My wide, green field becomes my anchor. It is my steady place. It is my home. Perilous hope can only bring a fierce exuberance, unencumbered by any fear. My field cannot be moved. My good earth cannot be shaken.
So I leap. And by Christ’s goodness, I land among the lilies.
No comments:
Post a Comment