Hopeful

(Photo by Tara Gourley)

I have seen daffodils break through the ground after one of the longest winters I have known.

I've seen sunshine after the rainstorm.

I've witnessed forgiveness that followed murder and lies.

I have heard the stories of lives transformed from sin and shadows into light and love. I've seen the change firsthand.

I've watched hard hearts melt at the strains of a song and the smile of a child.

I've wondered at how the sun still rises brilliantly after the hardest of days.

I have seen the brightest smiles come from dark, impoverished places.

I've been loved at my ugliest.

I've looked at lives reconstructed from disaster.

I have cried tears of joy after sobbing those of anguish.

I have heard a poor little boy pray in Spanish, accepting Christ into his life.

The most beautiful face I know has a scar.

The loveliest hands have them too, from where they were pierced by nails ... Those hands have held me; they hold me still.

My sin has been washed away by the blood of my Beloved.

So excuse me if I have hope.

Pardon me if I don't believe this world can defeat me.

Forgive me if I refuse to believe all is lost.

I have seen. I have heard. I believe.

The darkness cannot drown out the light.

I may face desperation, discouragement, doubt, despair, or desolation, but I will never face defeat, because He. has. won.

Death fought Him and He conquered.

Satan thought he had the victory for three whole days ... how blatantly wrong he was.

No gravestone reads, "Here lies Jesus," for the grave no longer holds Him. He resides elsewhere.

He's moved into the hearts of His children. He lives in me.

So nothing can take my 

hope.

Comments

  1. AmandaApril 21, 2014 at 2:17 PM

    ...And this kind of just makes me want to break out in song and dance around my dining room. Can we just be happy, joyful today because of HOPE? That glorious thing...makes anything bearable. Hope. It's beautiful. <3

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

May this place be a home and a haven.

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Ann {Coffee for Your Heart}

Image
This week's prompt from Holley Gerth is "Who inspires you?" Simple enough, but I didn't just want to say some names and leave it at that. I chose one who has profoundly impacted my life, and I wrote her a letter. She may never see this post, but I am posting it anyway.  (image via Google)            Dear Ann , You may or may not remember me. I don't know if I want you to or not. I emailed you as a girl a little younger, and a lot less secure. I emailed you in tears, and you replied in love. But at that point, you had already inspired me. I pulled your book off my mother's shelf, on a happy and altogether forgettable day ... I didn't journal that day, so that's all I know. I had stopped journaling when life stopped sounding prettier on paper. And I'd long forgotten why it was worth the fight. The pages of that book witnessed a journey ... one that still blows my mind. We left the church I called home; a place that I had so deeply based my
Read more

You're Not Alone {Coffee for Your Heart}

Image
(via Holley Gerth ) (Photo by Tara Gourley ) This isn’t easy for me to talk about, but if people only talked about the easy stuff, this world would be in serious disarray--well, more serious. I’m going to be honest here; the type of honesty that requires trust, and that is something that I am still learning, slowly . I have felt alone. I have stood in the middle of a crowded room and have felt so desperately lonely that it nearly drowned me. This has happened in my own home. I have been prone to anxiety attacks. I’ve sat on the floor, feeling like the world is caving in, and have only recently learned to text someone I trust when this happens. I have laid alone in my bed and cried myself to sleep. I know these feelings, and I know how real they can seem; so real that everything else looks fake and twisted in comparison. I have hid in corners and let the lie consume me: I am alone. I wasn’t. And dear soul, you aren’t either. Do you hear me? You. Are. Not. Alon
Read more

Endings

Image
Scott Henry Photography I am learning to appreciate endings Not just the happy kind And not the kind that screams, “Sequel!” or “their lives go as such” But endings True—perhaps upsetting—but Authentic endings In an age in which our phones are always open We get so very little closure Except silence As a teenager, I did not know That no one would call me to say that I was not being considered for that job at the market Their answer was silence I followed up And was told that my application Was more or less in a wastebasket Like the messages I had sent a stupid boy Who considered me not worth meeting In the movies I watched as a child, with my mother There were no unhappy endings She didn’t allow those in our house I remember watching one with her “Funny Girl” And sitting in shock as the credits rolled At having witnessed something so crushing That couldn’t be the ending, could it? I lived my life in similar denial Horrified by goodbye
Read more