Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir up one another on to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near. Heb. 10:23-25
Dear Lord Jesus, as I meditate my way through this “let us” patch of gospel admonitions, a couple of things stand out. On one hand, I’m convicted about the importance of holding onto the hope you’ve won for us—a living hope, an anchor of hope, a glorious hope—hope, not hype. Our hope is certain, but I certainly need to “hold it fast,” like gripping one of my favorite fly rods or cameras—for enjoyment, not out of fear of losing it.
I praise you that the gospel doesn’t call us to “hope in hope” but to hope in you; for you’ve made promises you alone can keep. You are faithful and you are loving, and that’s all we really need to know. Not hoping is not an option. Super-size my hope today, Lord Jesus.
This Scripture also convicts me about the importance of being a lot more intentional, regular, and creative in bringing encouragement to friends, family members, and anybody you put in my way. As the great Day of your return approaches—the Day when all hoping in part will give way to the fullness of hope—I want to be a man who speaks life, encouragement, healing and hope, to those who need it the most. I want to live as a conduit of your mercy and grace, in timely and tangible ways.
Put names and faces before us who need the encouragement you alone can bring, Lord Jesus—missionaries afar, a co-worker across the room, a stranger in an airport, the check-out lady at Publix, a grieving parent, a brokenhearted friend, a weary pastor and or a forgotten senior. By the emanating light of the great Day of hope, may we bring rich encouragement to this day. So very Amen I pray, in your grace-full and hope-filled name.
