I find myself tempted by the thoughts of the damned. Thoughts like the following: Hope is a dangerous thing. It seems to be something in which I can place little faith. There is precious little in this world in which to hope. I think I now know why Scripture says our hope should come from above. Everything on this planet is imperfect. While some might argue this is where beauty comes from, I say it is a source of considerable frustration.
What good is it to get one’s hopes up? Just as it is futile to worry because 98% of what you worry about never happens and the 2% that does is in a way you never anticipated, so too it seems 98% of what is hoped for never occurs. It seems ludicrous to wait for the 2%. One should get down to the business of living in reality and making the best of it.
I don’t want to believe these words. I CAN’T believe these words or I risk losing the one thing to which I cling.
Yet reality is making it difficult to hope. Defeat after defeat. Setback after setback. The list continues to grow. Even when I do something I think is worthy – or even exceed expectations – I’m told such is not the case and that I could have done better. It never seems to end. There is always one more. Always better. Always something just beyond my reach.
Lord, give me enough to make it through just this day. Looking beyond is too overwhelming.
