But we had hoped that he was the one

- "and they crucified him."

I highly recommend you take a listen. Look for "Redefining Hope" by Brad Nelson (date July 6).

Hope is a tricky thing. Especially when you think you have none. I said to a friend, "I hope that hope doesn't hinge on me," and I didn't finish the sentence (which would've ended with "because if so then I'm &*@#ed"). My friend quietly but firmly said, "No. It doesn't. It never does."

Another good friend has been meditating on this topic as well. And by meditating on this topic I think she really means to say that she doesn't know what to do about it, and is tired of hoping. Yet another friend keeps telling me, "Beauty out of ashes, babe." Which is poetic biblical styling for: This mess will turn out okay - more than okay. Funny enough, because I thought that too once upon a time.

I told my friend that it's hard - not to just say SCREW IT ALL! and harden your heart. Yet the Bible, when it talks about this stuff, goes on about who is our hope, not what. Just like God, to make it all about Him and not about things. That said, I find it hard to not hope for a specific result. Is it all supposed to be vague - and spiritual - and broad? How do you not hope against hope that the cancer will disappear or back down? How do you not hope that she will change her mind - and stay? Or that this this guy might be different from the rest? Or that you will get that job?

I know this much, too: this - right now, right here - is nothing compared to what I will face in the future.

Like Brad astutely said in his talk, the concept of hope is all nice and good, but see, I am hopeless and can't go on.

So I need the resurrected Christ to meet me on the road I'm walking on now, too. And ignite my heart as he talks to me. And eat with me. And be with me. Show me he really is the one.