Hope

Hope, which once was defined by promises diluted by fantasy, becomes a new term to me, because the old way doesn’t cut it anymore.


 

Being a Christian, “a little Christ,” becomes more offensive when the glories that are available through Jesus comes hand-in-hand with the suffering of picking up my cross. But to be identified with anything less than that only leads to true suffering and death. 
Any core identity in me that takes charge over my identity in Christ is simply a greater separation from the Father. The One who gives life and meaning to every title. Who gives purpose to every position on this earth.
 Without finding my identity in Him first, all other identities will fail me and never fulfill me. He is the key ingredient that runs through all of life. The baking soda to chocolate chip cookies that will cause them to fall at the end if forgotten.

 

Hope is the Way of Jesus Christ.

He was confident the Father would give Him what He was promised, even in the midst of ridicule, abandonment, temptations and crucifixion. That his life wasn’t in vain, nor all that he suffered. That, by all earthly matters - dead is done - but his trust was in the Father raising him, as He said He would.


 

Jesus’ hope was in the Father. 

His greatest reward was to be with Him at His right hand. His final hope was in nothing this world could provide, or the promises awaiting him. It was intimacy with the Father and knowing Him - His goodness, His faithfulness, His beauty, His eternity. Knowing and believing these things. 

 

His hope was in the Father - held up by a firm belief that God would be always who He said He is, for He cannot lie or fail. 

Held up by his intimate knowing that He is the greatest pleasure of all.

 

 

5.2.23