My brother once told me that the most selfish thing a person can do is hope. After I asked him to explain this, I clearly understood. Hope...the one thing that I can't do for anyone else. Sure, often we say: "I hope the best for you, or I hope that you get better." But in the end...those are just sentimental words that don't actually do anything. I must admit that I am guilty of this very thing. Often do I say, "I hope that you..." (fill in the blank)
But hope is the one thing that we can truly only do for ourselves. It is the most selfish thing we can do. And the good thing about this is that it is not a unholy selfishness but a righteous one. The opposite of hope is despair, and in today's society I find that most of what we encounter is despair. A disparaging attitude of humanity. And how sad. Many times have I been in a crisis of hope, and many times do I come out of that crisis with a new found attitude of triumph and gratitude.
I think this is why I love fantasy so much. I believe that only in Scripture and tales of fantasy do we really encounter the true meaning of hope. One of my favorite scriptures is 1 Peter 3:15, "Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope." Until Andy died, I understood the fantastical idea of hope. But when I no longer had him here with me, I understood the reason for my hope...to see my brother again.
I distinctly remember speaking to a dear friend who is no longer a professed Christian talk about the death of his mother. It wasn't long after Andy had died, and I was (and still am) completely adamant about seeing his bright and beautiful smile again. As we were speaking, he told me that he had to reconcile the idea that he would never see his mother again, and that he was okay with that idea. I couldn't accept it. I wouldn't accept it. I won't accept it.
I can't imagine, and this is speaking from my hope, why God, in his infinite mercy, would allow a world to exist for people to experience others and grow deeply in relationships with each other and then allow that relationship to cease to exist after only 60-80 years...and in my case...25 years. I knew Andy for 25 years, and that certainly is no where near long enough. So, is my hope in the fact that I will one day see his face? Absolutely. Is that enough for you? Who cares! It is for me!
I firmly believe in the afterlife. I firmly believe in the eternity I will one day spend not only with Andrew but with my heavenly Father. I first began to believe and focus on hope when I watched Harry Potter (yeah, yeah...I brought it up again.) Hear me out...here exists this world in which everything should go wrong, and it does, and in the end after the darkness seems so overwhelming the light wins. Good wins. Dumbledore says, "Hope can be found in the darkest of places, if one only remembers to turn on the light."
I promise that with every beat of my heart and breath in my lungs, I will profess the hope that I have in myself and in the One who created me. I can't hope for someone else, but I can certainly offer up prayers for their own hope. I believe...I hope, and if you ask me why I hope be prepared for a long explanation because I have one, and I certainly am not afraid to share it.
But hope is the one thing that we can truly only do for ourselves. It is the most selfish thing we can do. And the good thing about this is that it is not a unholy selfishness but a righteous one. The opposite of hope is despair, and in today's society I find that most of what we encounter is despair. A disparaging attitude of humanity. And how sad. Many times have I been in a crisis of hope, and many times do I come out of that crisis with a new found attitude of triumph and gratitude.
I think this is why I love fantasy so much. I believe that only in Scripture and tales of fantasy do we really encounter the true meaning of hope. One of my favorite scriptures is 1 Peter 3:15, "Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope." Until Andy died, I understood the fantastical idea of hope. But when I no longer had him here with me, I understood the reason for my hope...to see my brother again.
I distinctly remember speaking to a dear friend who is no longer a professed Christian talk about the death of his mother. It wasn't long after Andy had died, and I was (and still am) completely adamant about seeing his bright and beautiful smile again. As we were speaking, he told me that he had to reconcile the idea that he would never see his mother again, and that he was okay with that idea. I couldn't accept it. I wouldn't accept it. I won't accept it.
I can't imagine, and this is speaking from my hope, why God, in his infinite mercy, would allow a world to exist for people to experience others and grow deeply in relationships with each other and then allow that relationship to cease to exist after only 60-80 years...and in my case...25 years. I knew Andy for 25 years, and that certainly is no where near long enough. So, is my hope in the fact that I will one day see his face? Absolutely. Is that enough for you? Who cares! It is for me!
I firmly believe in the afterlife. I firmly believe in the eternity I will one day spend not only with Andrew but with my heavenly Father. I first began to believe and focus on hope when I watched Harry Potter (yeah, yeah...I brought it up again.) Hear me out...here exists this world in which everything should go wrong, and it does, and in the end after the darkness seems so overwhelming the light wins. Good wins. Dumbledore says, "Hope can be found in the darkest of places, if one only remembers to turn on the light."
I promise that with every beat of my heart and breath in my lungs, I will profess the hope that I have in myself and in the One who created me. I can't hope for someone else, but I can certainly offer up prayers for their own hope. I believe...I hope, and if you ask me why I hope be prepared for a long explanation because I have one, and I certainly am not afraid to share it.
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