We are all hungry for hope. One can never have enough of it. It is a superpower allowing us to endure the hard and accomplish the beautiful here on earth. Beneath our flesh and bone is a shimmering anchor of hope in our souls, assuring that whatever happens here on earth, the heaven within us will always prevail. Hallelujah! 

The poetry and potency of hope is rarely discovered on a rose-petaled path, but rather when kneeling in the dark, trembling in fear. It is responsible for some of the most beautiful moments of my life and has seen me through the most terrible ones. Hope is different from optimism because it originates from God. It is a holy spiritual activity.  

The hope I am talking about is rooted in an eternal perspective, where the Creator of Heaven and Earth is in charge (and wildly in love) with creation from the Perseids twinkling above, to an ant colony rushing my son’s forgotten watermelon slice, and most especially my tender beating heart (and yours). God declares, “I have summoned you by name; you are mine. I promise to love you now and forevermore.” Believe that—and you are lifted always.

No matter what happens on the earthly adventure, we are divinely promised that God has us. Even when there appears no light at the end of the tunnel—it will be there. God takes care of his Creations and will make a promising way. There may be weeping, but the joy will always return as it says in the Bible, in the morning. St. Julian of Norwich said, “All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.” This is a sustaining truth of my life. 

At a funeral on Thursday, I spoke of the Hebrew word, “Tikvah,” used in the Bible, imagining hope as a supernatural rope connecting us to an eternal reality. We are never separate from God, even when we feel ourselves to be. One of my favorite poets, William Stafford, refers to this mystical tether in his poem The Way it Is.

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among

things that change. But it doesn’t change.

People wonder about what you are pursuing.

You have to explain about the thread.

But it is hard for others to see.

While you hold it you can’t get lost.

Tragedies happen; people get hurt

or die; and you suffer and get old.

Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.

You don’t ever let go of the thread.

The bravest thing we can do in life’s uncertainty is hold on—never let go of the rope of hope. 

*****Below is my Anthem of Hope! I had the great blessing to meet and hear Kari Job and Cody Carnes last Friday and Saturday in California*****