When you read this, Hope will probably be sleeping. She got home Wednesday from two weeks in the Czech Republic (busylifebychoice). After all the travel, all the people, all the new, all the trusting, Hope will spend most of today sleeping.
There is something about the rest you get when you are home, really home. When you are done visiting, done with the expectations, done with the pretense.
There is something strengthening about knowing that there is home to look forward to, even when we are not there yet.
The poet of Psalm 25 had this kind of hope, the confidence in what is not yet fully known. Three times this writer talks about people whose “hope is in the Lord.” The middle mention places the writer as a disciple, a follower of God’s guidance:
Show me your ways, O Lord,
teach me your paths;
guide me in your truth and teach me,
for you are God my Savior,
and my hope is in you all day long.
When I think of rest, I first think of our sleeping Hope, upstairs in her own bed, exhaling exhaustion, inhaling restoration. But the poet is offering a picture of an active daily rest. Finding paths in wilderness, truth in chaos. A constant teaching in all the parts of my life.
This poem does not avoid trouble. The attack of enemies, betrayal by friends. My own inability to to live right, whether in my youth or earlier today. And the writer is willing to admit to sinning, to causing his own suffering by foolish choices, even as enemies have taken advantage of weakness.
In the face of all this wrong, there is forgiveness. Not because of our goodness, but because of God’s.
Hope for home is confidence in loving acceptance. No matter how tortured the trip.