Hope springs eternal.
Or at least it seems to make some really good comebacks.
About three and a half years ago, I posted about hope (or maybe it might be better called “faith”). In light of the Father’s Day that just passed (got to missing my mom and dad some in the midst of a family reunion), the Cubs winning the Series and a recent conversation about some of my folks who still struggle with life dominating addictions after more than a dozen years that I have known them, I thought I would dredge this back up. When asked, “How can you keep pouring yourself into people who are never going to change? Doesn’t it wear you out?”, the reply is pretty much the same as it was 3 or 4 years ago.
I just understand it better.
- It’s what my dad taught me
- It’s what my Dad taught me
- I’m nobody’s Savior
My dad never gave up on anything. I learned that there was no such thing as junk – just things that needed repair.
My Heavenly Dad never gave up on me. He reminds me over and over again that He loves me. I didn’t do anything to deserve it and I can’t do anything to make it go away. I am especially loved by Him . . . just like everyone else.
Since I can’t save anyone, it isn’t my fault if they won’t be “saved”. I also don’t get any credit if they do. There isn’t any pressure to perform, achieve results or gain attention or “credit”. It doesn’t diminish me in any way if they choose to continue to die. It doesn’t make me any better if they choose to live.
I choose to hope, because I have seen some amazing things. I just keep hanging around waiting to see something incredible I guess.