When we wait in faith and trust, we are met with grace and peace. It’s not our own efforts that sustain us, but the efforts of Jesus—the work that is already complete—that embolden us and empower us to wait well.
Ironically, more acute suffering can spur a more acute awareness of the peace we receive in our waiting, and thus a greater dependence on it to persevere. The peace is there, buzzing through us, whether or not we notice, but sometimes suffering knocks out the other competing systems long enough for us to finally realize what that peculiar noise was all along.
We find that the otherwise loathed and laborious process of becoming is something we never would have avoided had we known what we’d find at the end of the day—the hope we need the most.
Unlike other finite outcomes, hope is a future promise lived out in the present. In its truest and most potent form, it cannot be conjured or willed into existence. It’s not dependent on our ability to feel it or keep it going. It, like the grace and peace coursing through us, has been there all along.
Betting our lives and our hurts, our waiting and our future, on this kind of hope will never put us to shame. This is because hope is not simply a feeling projected in our own image, wrought with our imperfections and inconsistencies; rather, it is a limitless well. It is the water of life that will never run dry. It is life and light. Hope for an unknown future has always been found in a known God . . . Jesus. And He is worth waiting for.