The words to the hymn, “Great is Thy Faithfulness” have been bouncing around in my head all morning. Specifically the line, “Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.”
The need for strength for today, I can relate to well. I pray for it often, actually. But it was the second part that caught my attention this time and convicted me. Bright hope? What does that even mean?
I have hopes for tomorrow. I hope my children behave, that we have a peaceful day. I hope I have a little time with my husband after the busyness of the day to enjoy being together. I hope we have enough food to eat, enough money to pay our bills.
And I have hopes for the tomorrows after that, too. I hope my kids grow up to love God, to be good citizens, to find fulfilling work, to marry good people. I hope my husband and I grow old together and spend many joy-filled years in each other’s company. I hope my words find their way out into the world and bring something of worth to others. I hope, when it’s all said and done, I’ve loved God and followed Him closely so that I can spend eternity with Him.
The conviction that came with those lyrics this morning is the realization that my hopes–my vague, wistful, shadowy hopes–amount to little more than damage control and fire protection. My hopes for the future are so dull and grey that to see them written out feels almost ridiculous! But these are the things I spend my day striving for. What kind of hope is that?
But a bright hope? A hope that radiates, that permeates, that gives light to live by? What is that hope?
Is it possible that my version has fallen short of what real hope actually is?
My hope is wishful thinking, short-sighted physical desire based on the temporary things around me. It’s based far too much on transient circumstances in my life, like having children who behave well, or having enough money to make ends meet. Those things are important, but they’re not hope. Certainly not bright hope.
Real hope is something fixed, sure. It’s not wishful thinking. It’s rooted in faith, a certainty that specific things which have been promised will happen. Hope is the sustaining light that brings us through the darkness and intervening years to that fixed point. It transcends circumstances (even those that seem irreversible or impossible) and changing times with the assurance that what has been promised will be fulfilled.
Along with the lyrics, I’ve had a picture in my mind this morning. It’s an image of a long, dark tunnel. At the end of the tunnel, I see a light. I know the light means that there is an end to the tunnel and a great, open “out there” ahead of me. That is what is being promised. That is fixed. But what remains is the long tunnel before me. I haven’t reached the end of it yet, but the light beckons me forward. It’s a reminder that what’s been promised is out there, just ahead of me. Its light, as I get closer, helps me find my way in the darkness. It pierces through my present circumstances with the promise that there is more in store for me than this tunnel.
That is bright hope.
I think I’ve set my sights too low. Maybe I need to look higher, farther, above and beyond my current vantage point. What are the things God has promised me? And if He promised them, where is the hope that sustains me until their fulfillment?
I do pray for strength for today, because I need it. I do pray for daily bread, for peace in my home, for joy in my life. They are all important. But perhaps I should also pray for bright hope, which transcends them all and focuses my eyes on something beyond the immediate, something more lasting, something far brighter.
After all, we were meant for more than this dark tunnel.
This devotional was original posted to my personal blog in September 2012, and updated today. The same truth remains over a decade later.
