The hope that is in me
I was challenged. “Why do you have to write about gender equality?”
In the last year, I have flipped. For some, it is a mystery to be solved. What about Kay’s past contributed to her current obsession with women’s role in God’s kingdom? I honor those who ask. I answer with passion. But, for those who don’t ask, I hope. I feel hope.
I was queried, “Has your theology changed?” I answered. “Yes.” Before, I thought God was gifting me, yet asking me to wait before unwrapping. As a test of faith. And all I tasted was dirt. Buried.
Now, I’ve talked with the Man at Jacob’s well. He offers water that is not pink nor blue. A job to do. People to tell. A story of my own. A voice. Resurrection. New life. Hope.
My writing is voice. Word. I am the redeemed. I say so. I hope for more. Not then, but now!
I was challenged. “I don’t want to die.”
According to statistics my life is not yet half over. I have feared death. Its mystery. Its terror. Its emptiness. Its loneliness. As a girl, I wanted nothing more than marriage, love. I got it. Yet, there is more. And there is nothing. Without hope. I know hope.
I hope for life after. As a human woman. As Kay. In Christ. Humbled, yet utterly exalted. Tasting divinity.
Death is entrance. And an exit.
Without the hope of being known and knowing Someone. I don’t know how I could survive now.
I was challenged, “I am an utter failure.”
Constant guilt. That is the definition of motherhood.
I can’t swallow the fear of ruining a childhood. Fear does not improve behavior. (mine) Nor does screaming lectures. (their’s) I know they think I hate them. I know it too. Little bothers. Let me alone!
A vast divide separates my hope from reality. My hope is built on nothing less. His success, not mine.
I ponder these things as THE celebration nears. For, what is hope, but a celebration of Easter? Up, up! Arise, My Love.
The first challenge was from a good friend. The second, from my daughter, age eight. The last was mine.