Interestingly, the by line of my blog talks about the journey of an ancient faith, into living the active practice of hope. I think there is something very attractive about hope. Not a sentimental hope, not the last ditch effort of " here's hoping ." But, something more profound, like re-booting your being. It's living in real hope. It's living in the hope that Jesus offers. It's hope that comes from living " IN " Jesus. It is a hope in which the little things in my life matter. It's talking to a stranger, to one person, who might be struggling in the ordinariness of life, in which like striking a match a conversation is kindled. It's when something beautiful happens in the conversation, when unexpectedly, and unannounced, Spirit filled words and human words touch, when Jesus mysteriously enters the conversation. It's at this moment " Hope " comes a flame, we see something before unimagined.
It's seeing a need on the street down town. It's seeing a need in your work place. It's seeing a need next door in your neighborhood. It is simply being the hands and feet of Jesus, stepping into circumstance and getting a little dirty. Sure, there is usually a cost. It might be a little money, or a little time. But again, as in the conversation, it's spontaneous. It's not telling the person, " I'm thinking about it, I'll get back to you." It is living in that moment " IN " Jesus, and allowing him to live in that moment. It is the profound mystery that the gospel can be preached with out words. Sure there will be an opportunity when the " why " arises out of a conversation. But in these seemingly small and insignificant responses to needs in your everyday life, it is just allowing the " being " of Jesus to speak. It's in these moments of being Jesus, that we ignite imaginations to a Hope beyond us.
We need to become portals of a Hope beyond us, beyond this world. I really do think we are surprised by hope.
From The Portal of the Mystery of Hope
By Charles Péguy
The faith that I love best, says God, is hope.
Faith doesn’t surprise me.
It’s not surprising.
I am so resplendent in my creation. . . .
That in order really not to see me these poor people would have to be blind.
Charity says God, that doesn’t surprise me.
It’s not surprising.
These poor creatures are so miserable that unless they had a heart of stone, how could they not have love for one another.
How could they not love their brothers.
How
could they not take the bread from their own mouth, their daily bread,
in order to give it to the unhappy children who pass by.
And my son had such love for them. . . .
But hope, says God, that is something that surprises me.
Even me.
That is surprising.
That these poor children see how things are going and believe that tomorrow things will go better.
That they see how things are going today and believe that they will go better tomorrow morning.
That is surprising and it’s by far the greatest marvel of our grace.
And I’m surprised by it myself.
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