I’m not very good at hope. In fact, I generally don’t have any at all. I have at least one friendship that has some seriously dramatic ping-pong action going on. I have a church life that I don’t understand. I have little hope, if any, for either to work out in a way that brings good to anyone. Also, I don’t like it when people around me have hope enough to cover them and me, if that makes any sense.
I said a prayer today, though. I asked Jesus to have hope since I couldn’t.
I found that there is work in trying to have hope. Real hope takes effort and a certain strength to accomplish. Jesus taking the burden of having hope both releases the strain and creates a kind of starter.
I still don’t have hope, but I feel in myself the space for it to be created. And that, by some paradox, gives me hope.