in pursuit of hope

Sometimes hope has a funny way of slipping through out fingers and it is only when we most need it that we realize it is gone. And so, we must pursue it. Search it out. Reclaim it. Sometimes, though, hope finds us.

I spent the last year and a half looking for hope. Looking for a glimpse of the goodness of God; For anything that would say, despite what we see in the world around us, that God is fundamentally good. I may have been pursuing it, but hope was chasing me too. It finally caught up to me in India; half way around the world from where I started searching.

I saw hope in the eyes of the children we met; hope in the way they pursued Jesus. I felt it in the hands of the women in Mother Teresa’s home as they squeezed my own. I touched hope as I carried a child, and as she held onto my neck. I felt it as I rubbed the feet of an old woman. I experienced hope as I walked the streets of Calcutta, knowing that the Lord has not forgotten any of his children. I knew hope as Jesus spoke it into my heart; softly, yet, undeniably.

And so, I am home now. I will continue to run after this radical, costly, generous, hope. This hope that says Jesus is enough. This hope that says no to darkness and yes to light. This hope that spins in the light of who the Lord is and dances in the face of adversity. This hope that yearns for more of Jesus and not less. This hope that cannot be denied. This trusting, pure hope; that knows God prepare a place for us in the midst of our enemies. This hope that produces and gives life.

I am still pursuing hope. And it is still pursuing me.