We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain.

Hebrews‬ ‭6‬:‭19

I talk about hope more than anything. Either directly or as a tangent.

Because it’s been the bedrock of my sobriety.

But it’s really just a cute idea on its own.

If I don’t rally myself into action I’m screwed.

But I don’t have the power to rally myself.

So, I resort to God. When all else fails, I’ll take the actual solution.

I use a human way to do things, and in so doing realize that it’s my very hopelessness that turns me toward His ultimate hope.

Hope is just a good day without the hands and feet of forward progress to move it along.

It’s just a fleeting good time without the willingness to share it and move deeper into it.

Yet at the end of all my best thinking, I can’t think my way into the actions I should be taking.

I can write them down, I can edit them, I can ponder them. And this does some good.

But to live and to live free of the bondage of addiction and selfishness, I must sacrifice the idea that I am my own savior.

I just take up the daily cross and follow Him who was and is and is to come.

This is what finding God looks like.

It’s the messy aftermath of self-service. It’s the falling apart and coming back to the starting line that surely we all experience. And it’s the owning of my humanity, His divinity and my place in the pattern.

God, help me not misinterpret your provision.