“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1
Saturday night, in the midst of the first slushy roads of the season and with a hard and fast deadline approaching, found us racing to Urgent Care with our daughter. She was feeling puny and the hives that had popped out earlier were reaching critical mass. She was itchy and miserable and we were hoping for answers.
As my husband navigated the roads, I found myself rehearsing the list of symptoms and casual agents, already anticipating the questions the doctor would ask. Because I had determined what I expected the diagnosis would be and I was hoping for the simplest outcome in terms of treatment and care.
It didn’t take long for the (very) young doctor to send my thoughts in a completely different direction with his diagnosis. I was seeing zebras, but he saw horses. The outcome was much simpler than I expected. And I wasn’t quite sure how to process it.
We do that, don’t we? We hope for the best but in our minds but we spend a lot of time pre-deciding outcomes and attempting to control circumstance.
But where does our hope lie?
Does it lie in a doctor? Does it lie in a pastor or speaker or teacher of the Word? Does it lie in spouse or a friend? Does it lie in any man?
Friends, man will always disappoint. We know this. But if you’ll indulge my inner word nerd here, hope is something far more than we credit it.
The Greek word for hope in our key verse, “elpizo”, means to hope, to actively wait for God’s fulfillment about the faith He has inbirthed in us through the power of his love.
That is powerful.
Because hope means we acknowledge that though we might not see it or feel it, we choose to wait on God knowing He sees us and He knows us and He’s got a plan.
It’s under that hope that Mary, after hearing directly from an angel, laid herself bare and said, “May it be as you have said.”
It’s under that hope that Zechariah said, “His name is John.”
It’s under that hope that Peter said, “Lord, You know I love You.”
It’s under that hope that Paul said, “Who are you, Lord?”
We have so many questions, even now, but I take comfort in the fact that Mary, the mother of our Lord who should have asked so many questions, chose to rest in what she knew of God’s character. It’s a lesson for me. To wait actively knowing God sees me. He knows me. And his enduring love never ends.
That’s our hope. That’s our joy. That’s our rest.
To God be the glory!
Serving in music ministry for over 20 years, Laura Meiser is passionate about sharing the love of God with hurting people through song, spoken and written word. Married for 20 plus years, mama to two daughters though with an empty-ish nest these days, you’ll find her also sharing space with two crazy cats, reading (often), running (slooowly) and knitting (poorly) in her free time. You can catch up with Laura at www.laurakmeiser.com.