“And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” Romans 5:5, ESV

In the hard season, hope was a funny thing. Some moments, it was everything: the just MAYBE things will miraculously work out. The teeny sliver of light in the dark. Then, hope was a mirage… too big, too impossible.

Hope could be exhausting.

Hope carried me and hope left me… disappointed.

But the hope I was clinging to was of my own making… sitting here, on the other side, I so clearly see that I was desperate for my human understanding of hope and good… and yet Hope walked with me the whole time.

I know Hope.

He isn’t clanging cymbals; He is quiet and consistent.

I know Hope.

He’s not the clap of thunder or heat of flames; He’s the whisper.

I know Hope.

He looks like a single flame; until you walk up and see He’s a blazing inferno.

I know Hope

He doesn’t make the hard go away, but He sits with me when it hurts.

I know trials, and hardship, and fire. I know adversary, and hurt, and pain.

But Hope does too.

And He knows me.

And Hope walks with me, and carries me.

Hope knows my name.