A sliver of hope

In times like these in Missouri, I suspect that one thing that is needed more than anything else is a sliver of hope. Just a sliver. Just an idea that through all this, even all this, peace still can be found.

In the eighth chapter of the look into human suffering, the book of Job, we read this: "So why not let the ancients teach you, tell you what's what, instruct you in what they knew from experience? Can the mighty pine trees grow tall without soil? Can luscious tomatoes flourish without water? Blossoming flowers look great before they're cut or picked, but without soil or water they wither more quickly than grass. That's what happens to all who forget God -- all their hopes come to nothing."

I've read that we as pastors should never say conclusive things about God's will, such as "that must not have been God's plan;" or "I'm sure God has a plan for me."

The problem with hope is it's hard to see. But it seems to me that God provides that above just about every thing else.

Further into Job, we read this: "Yet he rescues the orphan from the sword of their mouth, the needy from the grip of the strong; so the poor have hope and violence shuts its mouth."

Isn't that what we need today in Missouri?

Isn't that what we need today in Palestine?

Isn't that what we need today in the Ukraine?

Just a sliver of hope that one day this will all go away, one day the problems and the fighting and the misery will up and go away.

That hope is what God spreads to all who will listen. Is that a firm plan, like on August 18, 2014 I will write about hope? Probably not. But what it is, I believe, is the notion that there is an overall plan for all this, and when we listen and we read and we absorb God's framework, and we acknowledge his authority, then indeed we have that rare but substantial piece called hope.

Sometimes it is all we have.

Most times it is all we need.