Friends, I know that some of you have tears right now that you wish you didn’t have to shed. But … don’t waste them. It is my experience that most often it is those who have to look through the most tears who get the clearest view of ultimate reality, of empty tombs, of gardeners who are kings, of angelic beings journeying with us on our rocky road home.

I am so thankful that God created seasons as part of the rhythmic pulse through which we measure the passing of years. In His creative genius, God knew that we would benefit from mile markers on the highways of our collective journeys, as if nature itself offers us sacred reminders of the ground our lives have covered, and the distance we have yet to go before we make it home. Their repetition and regularity help to break up the seemingly random onslaught of joys and sorrows that we inevitably encounter, and comfort us as we attach markers to memories and ever nearer horizons to futures.

Hope that is deferred makes the heart sick. Hope needs to be applied in the here and now to whatever it is that you face today, in the very present tense, in the immediacy of all of life’s interruptions. Living in the constant deferred hope of some form of sanctified self and world where I am who I hope to be and the world works as it should creates a constant, restless, longing that can make the heart grow sick.