I hope my children love Jesus. I hope they make wise choices, and I hope that living with me for 18 years won’t necessitate too much therapy for them when they’re grown.
I hope my husband and I live to be 150. Well, 152 for him, since he’s older. I hope we die in our bed, sleeping peacefully and holding hands with each other. Not that we hold hands while we sleep now, but isn’t it a nice picture?
I hope I come to know God better and better, and love Him more and more, until I wholly dwell in His abundance and joy—not just visit them occasionally like I do now. I hope that my heart and my life make Jesus smile and say, “Child, you are beginning to look like Me.”
I hope I’ll finally learn someday that hope is more about where than what. What I hope isn’t nearly as important as where I place my hope. In fact, where I hope often determines what I hope. David knew this. In Psalm 25, he recognized just where to hope.
No one whose hope is in you will ever be put to shame. – Psalm 25:3
My hope is in you all day long. – Psalm 25:5
My hope is in you. – Psalm 25:21
God, let me always hope in You. Amen.
A repost from the archives, August 19, 2010.
Sixty-six books in a year 