The Back Porch

Finding hope after months of despair is like nothing that can ever be fully expressed.

It is water for a man dying of thirst. It is sight for the blind; it is air for the drowning. It is the sight of someone loved after waking from a coma. It is peace.

Love always hopes. That expression kills me because it is so hard to let go. I loved, and was left. And she’s not coming back. So what is this hope for? What good is it?
I’m starting to believe that it is not such a specific drive. The focus is not that simple. The hope is not to be for that person but rather for what that person represents. Over and over Christ compares our relationship with Him and God to a marriage. That is love. All the forgiveness and faith and trust and patience that you need for marriage is needed with God. It is provided in perfection, and for perfection in its return we strive.

We do not hold hope in love for a person, rather our hope is for love with God.

Our love with God so easily suffers from abstraction. Love with God is difficult to see because so much of it is expressed in ways and forms we cannot see. But love with a person is physical. It can be seen, touched, and felt, though not always can it be quantized. It is a kiss, or a smile in a crowded room. Eyes locked so tight as though they were the only eyes present. Love is a shoulder soaked in tears or a joke at the most excellent moment. Love is a perfect hug.

It is in these things that God’s love is understood. In these things that God’s love is felt. I do not understand how God forgives me, but I understand when a friend forgives, and often that’s as close to understanding as I need to get. It is the expression of love and hope in those around us that causes us to fathom what God shows us, and what he wants from us.

My hope is not simply to love and to be loved by this person. My hope is to understand God’s love through it.