I lose my hope perspective ten times a day, at least. I get weighed down by the crumbs of life…those bread crumbs that stick to your feet when you’re just trying to cook and the smear of peanut butter as you brush against a wall. The things that seem no matter how you wipe them just keep coming back. There’s always more work, something else required of me, some way I can see I’m failing, and that suffocating frustration of when my life feels too boring, too much, too menial and I begin daydreaming of the things that will take these feelings away.
A trip to the craft store, diving into a book or binge watching a show, a few hours alone at my favorite coffee shop, getting out alone for a walk, taking in the breeze and beauty without having to make sure everyone is safe and accounted for. Those things are good and can be helpful tools in realigning myself to the truth, but if I keep looking to those things as the fix, my conventional savior, I’ll always be disappointed and left dry.
Those things can give me space to refuel, to pause and reflect, but in those longing daydream moments they don’t really do me any good. They increase my despair or loneliness, bitterness or jealousy not because they are bad in and of themselves, but because in my heart I’m saying, “If only I could do or have xyz, then I’d be alright/happy/could do this life.”
But the truth is those things will continue to fail me if I’m looking to them for satisfaction of my soul.
My hope is built on nothing less,
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.
And so, I must do the hard work of turning from myself and turning to Christ, the source of ultimate joy and satisfaction. It’s not easy. Jesus isn’t a quick fix to a perfect life or a continual intravenous drip of happy. But looking to Jesus, the author and perfector of my faith, I can boldly say, “I can’t, but You can.”
I can’t do this day. I can’t take one more question, one more failure, one more thing to stress over.
I can consider him who endured and know in Christ’s power I can endure. And this faintheartedness, this despair to give into sin and apathy—the vanity of life, I can look to Christ and see how he endured for the sake of joy and I too can endure.
To consider Him—not myself, not others, not my circumstances, but Jesus…to do the daily work of living, enjoy life, and not grow weary in doing good in fulfilling the role he’s placed me in. To remember the joy set before me in the new Jerusalem, to turn my eyes upon Jesus look full in his wonderful face, to know this weight of glory.
It sounds so basic. Turn from looking inward and look to Jesus. Basic but essential. Even if I have to do it hundreds of times a day.
And I will.