When do you quit? When does a person lose hope? How long does it take to know I don't live there anymore? I don't do that anymore? I'm not like that anymore? My dreams can't happen anymore?
My header picture is the house I lived in my last semester in seminary. Good times with classmates and housemates. Days mostly filled with hope, although of course I knew no one ever knows what the future will bring. I don't live in that part of the country anymore. And too many years have passed without those spacious expectations ever bearing fruit.
When do I quit? Do I even hope anymore? Am I still that person or not (anymore)? Would I return to those years, that house, those classrooms, those streets, those people? Surprisingly, I wouldn't, even if it were possible—though of course it's not anymore.
I remind myself:
• Pray
• Remember
• Dream
God's people Israel kept the past present with rituals, celebrations, and liturgies. They recited and reenacted their history with the God of the Exodus, God of the Covenants, "as if" those events still were happening.
Like God’s primal people Israel, in worship we remember who God is, who we are, how God has acted. We declare our dreams and announce our hopes for the future.
Israel's history with God gave Israel confidence about the future and willingness to continue in partnership with God. Because they never forgot God's saving deeds of redemption and homecoming, they faced the future with hope.
Especially when we celebrate the sacraments, we anticipate, celebrate, and commemorate. Does our history with God give us confidence about the future and resolve to never give up? Not to quit? Do we face an unknown future with hope?
My footer picture is a favorite I've created at least a dozen variations of and featured on this blog a few times. I love it because it evokes summer weeks I spent at a beach house on the sand facing the ocean. It was play time and fun time rather than work time. It reminds me to dream of what might be possible anymore.
No, I don't do that anymore,
ReplyDeletetreat my days like endless strife.
On posturing, I've shut the door,
'cause it was ruining my life.
Things that used to be quite nice,
like gaily trotting on the beach,
were forced to down the Spartan's spice,
and fun was placed far out of reach,
and I knew not what was the end
that I meant to see
when in foolish pride I'd bend
the blessing God had offered me
of jogging through the salt-taste air
beneath the sun, without a care.
Like you, I'm finally on the other side of that, and can say with confidence: I'm not like that anymore. Thanks for sharing
ReplyDeleteI love the beach. We always have the memories of people and places we don’t visit anymore. Praise God! ❤️ G
ReplyDeleteLove this! Even if anymore isn't possible, it's good to do as you say: "I remind myself:
ReplyDelete• Pray
• Remember
• Dream"
Our future anymores will be greated than the past ones!
It is a lovely picture. I hope you still make time for your creative gifts!
ReplyDelete