As I christen this new blog with it's first post, I find it only fitting that I wrote this almost a year ago to the day. What a difference a year can make.
You will be happy again.
You will be happy. Again.
You, will be happy again.
We all dream. We all remember an existence where anything was possible. Dreams without fear. But somewhere in there where you test your dream, disappointment and pain were somehow allowed to overrule. And then, dreaming = risking, risking = pain, pain = misery. And somewhere in your heart, dreaming = misery, therefore, do not dream.
"Hope is dangerous." You say out loud. Startled.
So with that knowledge, do you fear to dream, again? Were you completely eviscerated after giving the eulogy at the funeral of your heart's desire that you never stopped wearing black? Did the period of mourning never cease? Out of protection, instead of looking up and moving ahead, did you arise, adorn yourself in mourning and continue to stare at the barren hole in the ground? Somehow it is easier to continue in the misery than it is to step out of it. If we never leave the cemetery, we will never be surprised to show up there again. And so we will live by surviving. We exist in shadow. We cease to know what it feels like to be alive. We shut out hope.
"Hope is dangerous." You say as you console yourself, crying.
And for a time, you learn how to live without dreaming. Life becomes mostly real. It's better with coffee and wine; with good friends and a hearty laugh. But it doesn't reach the hardness, the darkness that we nurse when no one is looking. We may smile, but shut down any real joy. It's the incessant scab we pick at once it starts to heal. If we let go of the misery, what could possibly come next?
"Hope is dangerous." You say again, morose, as you stare at yourself in the mirror.
We resign ourselves that our destiny was pain and we are its keeper. To share in a small, lonely existence in a prison we made ourselves. It is comfortable because it is known. And even though it is cold and dark, we convince ourselves that it is safe, and in this dark land, safety is the only rule.
And soon the mantra that we clung to has shriveled our once vibrant life. We remember that we used to be happy. We remember that we used to live freely. We remember that we used to dream.
But that reality seems as far away as it ever was and you only get glimpses of it when moments catch you off-guard. When you fell asleep at your station, keeping careful watch of your misery, a tiny, winged messenger sings a melody of a song you once knew. Opening your eyes, you stare at this little creature, delighted and confused, and smile as your heart is pricked with hope. Startled by this, you're brought to full attention remembering your duty and you wave it off. It cocks it's yellow head in the friendliest way that only birds can, looks right through you and flies off without offense.
"Hope is dangerous." You grumble as you cling to your staff and look down at your muddy boots.
Is this really your station in life? Do you truly think you were created for only this? Only this misery? Partial living? "A future full of hope," (Jer. 29:11) except for you It is fear that makes us feel that this is our identity. That misery is our identity, but that is false. It is utter lies. The only unfortunate thing is that it FEELS so true. Especially now. And if not stared down with a courageous heart, it takes over and tries to smite the very dangerous existence of hope.
Hope is dangerous, but in the best possible way. The amazingly wonderful thing about Christ, about God and all existence is that He is Hope, He is Love, He is Light. But it takes courage to choose it. We must choose it while we are shaking in our boots. We must cling to it during the storms and at the funerals of life. We must look at the Crucifix and see that yes, there is a Resurrection. There is Life and you were meant to be apart of it! To live it!
To really live, we must dare to hope. But we first must cling to Him that is Hope. There is no hope, no light, no love, without Christ. We see that in our sad prison that we keep. But the first step out in hope, in faith, is the stepping. Christ is a gentlemen and will not drag you out of your prison. He will freely let you stay in your own misery, mourning with you and mourning the life He wants for you. The vibrant life he wants for YOU. Thankfully, He is patient and is perseverant. He will never give up on you. He will come every day to visit. In hope of you. In hope of you! In HOPE of YOU!
And in the many prayers, the silence, by God's grace you can say yes to hope again. To dreaming again. But perhaps you may have forgotten the way.
"But isn't hope dangerous?" You ask the Lord. He replies, "Only to fear."
Only to fear is hope dangerous. But to us, hope is life. It is vibrant. It is for you. To ponder on your heart's desire without fear, what bubbles up? What was written on your heart at the very instant of your conception? To pursue that which is truly you, is what you are meant to be. There was a purpose behind it.
Now, you may not ever be famous or have a lot of money, but you will have hope. And hope is eternal.
Hope is everything.