2019 has been quite the year. I feel like I've had my fair (or unfair?) share of surprises and disappointments and it's left me a little exhausted, to say the least. I jokingly think that my word for 2020 should be something like calm or still so I can hope and pray over a year of steadiness.
While I initially saw the unexpected changes and disappointments through a negative lens, I'm now trying to hold onto hope and remind myself that these events, these circumstances, and these experiences are all a part of my journey and story and they all have something to teach me, too.
For most of my life, I've been told to be hopeful or to hold onto hope. And for the longest time, I equated hope with rope (they do rhyme, after all); thinking that holding into hope meant holding onto a piece of rope as it gets tugged farther and farther away from you.
As a kid, hope came in the form of wish lists for birthdays and Christmas. I confused hope for wants or longings for toys (anyone else collect Beanie Babies and have the original Polly Pockets?).
But hope, true hope in Christ, that is, is anything but that. His hope, I'm learning, is sure and steady. Like an anchor for my soul (Hebrews 6:19). He brings hope and it lies not in my circumstances or what I hope to get in the future, but who I am in Him and who He is for me.
So here's to holding onto hope. Holding onto Jesus, who is my anchor, my Rock, and my Redeemer. Here's to humbly reminding myself that hope lies not on earthly things, but on Heaven and all things eternal.
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