“My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and
righteousness.”
“My Jesus I love Thee, I know Thou art mine.”
The familiar words swirled around in my head while hymns of
old danced softly on piano strings.
My hope is built—is built.
Not was built, will be built, but is
built. My hope is not now what it will be and is not what it once was. We are
so eager to quantify, to pinpoint that which shifts and grows. To lean on the
surety of our own feelings instead of His promises, His actions, His love. We
grasp for pinpoints because we grasp for control. I do it every day. I feel faithful today, maybe it will last
me for a week, I say to myself.
No.
I feel faithful today.
Full of faith. Thanks be to Him Who gave me faith, loves me, builds my hope on
His own sacrifice. Who makes me righteous because I am a coward who cannot even
give a little girl a flower in the parking lot of the grocery store. His
righteousness is enough to cover all my sin. And it is His righteousness that
moves me to want to try again, to never fail to show a kindness where it is
needed. I will fail, but I will do better, because of Him.
It ends with a quiet love song, not eloquent or full of
imagery, or really profound in any way out of the ordinary. But oh, it is the
ordinary that changes me more than the extraordinary. It is the smallest of
moments that cuts to my heart and points me to the One who whispers “I love
thee,” in reply to my simple tune. My
Jesus, I love Thee. My heart dams the joy; joy brims in eyes. I know Thou art Mine. I belong to Him
and He to me. He has given Himself, and I cannot ever count gifts enough to
compare to that gift.
"Jesus,
Jesus,
precious Jesus..."
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