“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.
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.