The bible sure talks a lot about hope.

Over and over the teaching and stories from the past faith-filled folks look out beyond their circumstances and to their God for rescue and relief, reconciliation, and safety along with any other unmet need of the heart. Hope stands bolstered by belief and leads to a kind of trust that bears all things life delivers.

If you’re aged like fine cheese (or just smell like it), this week’s message is for you. If, however, you are just a pup and reading this, you might keep the ideas for future reference since unless you go toes-up prematurely you will someday enter the land of the land of the wrinkled and broken. And that day will come faster than you ever imagined.

It was a cold, wet afternoon and a weary soldier stood in his mud-splattered uniform outside of the White House. With tears tracking his face he looked down at his shoes.

A young boy walking by asked him what was wrong and the man answered, “I’ve been trying all day to see the President, but I’m not allowed in. I have nowhere else to turn.”

Faith journeys begin in all sorts of ways. A fun exercise is to ask folks to trace the thread of belief back through their years to when it first began to make itself known and when belief followed.

The other morning found me earnestly rowing to nowhere at the Geezer Gym. Surrounded by several physical reminders of life’s fragile nature and brief tenure moved me to up my pace a bit in yet another effort to keep the old man out. Often I row and think or talk with friends I only see there, but this morning had me listening to a Tim Keller talk.

Last week’s entry in this space told just a slice of the story of John the baptizer’s folks, Zacharias and Elizabeth, found in Luke 1. The piece wondered about faith in the midst of disappointment and how life can make turns we would never choose, and reminding believers that God hasn’t finished writing his story in us.

The significant November snows opened Mt. Bachelor for the ski season earlier than I was prepared for. We went from a warm, breezy fall to mid-winter in a weekend. So, the other Monday I wandered up to the mountain to make a a dozen laps on my own before getting on with my day.

The other day, after a morning at the mountain trying navigate skiing with old equipment (me), I returned to eat, shower then sit down to spend some time reading on the Substack site before dropping off into a nap. Since joining Substack mid-summer, the breadth of my blog reading has significantly expanded. Much of it barely holds my attention, but occasionally a post comes along that is as cool as the backside of a pillow.

In my morning time with God the other day, the devotional I read retold the story from the older testament of Boaz and Ruth, a Moabite woman and not a Jew.

This is a story of a family with their fair share of drama.

Reading through the stories of the life of Jesus as John remembered them, I paused long enough to ponder a well-known episode.

Jesus has come up to Jerusalem from Galilee in the north country for the Jewish festival of Booths.

I’d like to think I’m like this dog at the window, patiently watching and waiting. But our days have trained me a toward profound impatience like no other time. Unlike this picture, I’m more likely to pace, fret, wonder and worry, and question if what I so deeply desire will ever come into view. Who am I trying to kid, dogs know better how to wait and trust than me.

If I craft a picture of Jesus in my mind, I see him brushing sawdust from his clothes and hanging with working people, playing games with groups of kids, waving to outsiders of all stripes to come close, powerfully challenging religious norms and those who push them, teaching huge truths wrapped in plain brown wrappers.

These days offer plenty of reasons to be fearful, angry and just generally unsettled. Today being election day, so much of what we look to for stability shakes under the stresses of life, writ large, punctuated by a hurricane or two, and wars across the globe. In days like these, it’s good for Jesus-followers to remember, prune back, and press forward. 

So, the other day while driving to do errands, I had the radio tuned to a news station that was, so typically, talking about the election now only days away. The host and commentator analyzed the latest polling numbers, ground games, hidden voters, potential surprises that might still come and came to the amazing conclusion that the presidency is either candidate’s to win…I know, stunning.

I recently learned that I missed the Feast Day for George Muller back in September. He is celebrated by many as a champion of the poor through intercession and action. And I’ll bet plenty of believers don’t know him at all, but will be encouraged by his life and work.

When Claudia finished her sewing challenge for school girls in Zambia, I told her we needed to get out of Dodge for a bit. So, after teaching class Sunday at church, we skipped the service, bolted for the car and pointed it south, feeling like kids on the first day of summer vacation.

Not having been raised in a church-going home, when my faith journey began in high school through Young Life, all this Jesus stuff was new. Looking back on those days through high school and college (thankfully OSU was taking anyone in those days who could fog a mirror or I never would have gotten in), I sponged up language and beliefs and ways of doing faith as fast as I could. And I’m sure my family and friends thought I’d gone off the deep end.

We Jesus followers talk often and sing about the love of God, how it stands sentry at the gate of his essence, how it gives form to all the rest of his attributes, and how because of it we can know God and walk with him throughout our days.

So, let’s talk hope. Not wishful thinking, but thinking with a ready and steady mind that is fixed on the grace here and now that will be fulfilled in its time. Each day we train our thoughts and actions to choose to be a bit more like Jesus and a bit less like the world we left behind.

When the Jews, for generations, traveled to Jerusalem for the major feasts throughout the year, it must have been quite an effort. Imagine corralling your family, closing up your house and setting off to meet with God and his people at the center for all of their worship and sacrifice, the Temple in Jerusalem.