Hopeless without hope

Three things this week have reminded me of the enormous difference real hope makes. The cartoon above, referring to the “Footsteps in the Sand” poem, made me laugh very much.

Then I read a heart-breaking article whose title says it all: “I wish my mother had aborted me.” It was described by the person who linked it on Twitter as “A brilliant, logical, compassionate piece of writing.” It’s the word “logical” that sends shivers of fear through me, echoing to the jackboots of history. I don't disagree with the use of it given the author's understanding, but I believe they are terribly, tragically wrong.

Finally, a compilation of stories about Christians for whom sexual tendencies have been a struggle. They each told of how Jesus, through His words, His Spirit, and His people, had brought hope to situations that seemed hopeless. That’s what He does. He comes to us in our despair, our disasters, and sometimes our self-confidence, and He picks us up, occasionally drags us, heals us and teaches us to walk with Him. He rescues, adopts, restores, and transforms us. No-one need be lost or given up on. Without Him, do we have anything other than logic to hope in? It’s not enough. He is.