Hope

You know the song “This Little Light of Mine”? Of course you do.

I’ve probably sung it a million times, and I’m almost positive it was one of the first songs I ever learned. From my five year old lungs to an esteemed choral stage to an echoing lobby at the UN to a carpet on a wooden floor of a corner room with windows overlooking the Bosphorus. I’m still singing it today; the song has proved timeless. Maybe because the light sung about is an eternal one, and He shines on even when I’ve burned out. When I’m tipped over, trails of tears melting into puddles of wax, seeking route for escape from these kindled wounds and threatening timbers… When fires blaze painful scars fresh and hurting, the smoke too thick to breath,  

He breathes into me.

  

Walls crumbling, creating darkness around me. My light blows out, but His light yet shines.

For when I’m smothered by the world, there is One who smothers me more, with a heat so intense that it sends sparks to my very soul.

It’s a flame that gives anyone who has it a reason to rejoice. Once upon a time there was a church in Rome, it’s people were being thrown to the lions… And they were rejoicing! How to rejoice when you see your life ending by being torn limb to limb?

 

Because we have hope.

 

Because we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, 

 

HOPE.

And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. (Romans 5:1-5) The only consuming fire that mattered to this little church was the one they feared most, the glory of the Lord. Even to the very end they burned brightly for his glory and in his hope. Suffering humbles. When storm winds blow the best thing for me to do is bow low; it gets me out of the way for God to do his thing… Being on my knees forces me to look up. Only when I am small- do I see how big God is, do I remember his heroic acts. My own scars are nothing compared to the scars that saved me, of he who bore them who covered me in grace and opportunity. “By his stripes we are healed.” Even death proved no obstacle for truth to prevail… So until he comes again-  

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

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