God's Promised Day (Hope) Can't Wait

Someone once told me that hope

was naive—

A foolish game that children play

When they pray that summer

won’t end,

And bedtime won’t come.

Someone once told me that hope

was naive as they

Cradled pessimism in their lap like a

sleeping cat,

Stroking their ego while they stoked

a fire within me.

Unfortunately for them, I’m allergic

to cats.

And unfortunately for them, those

who deny hope

Will never know vulnerability;

For hope requires us to believe in a

better day—

Even when this one is falling apart.

Hope looks the 24-hour news cycle

in the face,

Hope looks our broken relationships

in the face,

Hope looks our low self-esteem

in the face,

And declares at low tide that the

water will return.

Hope is exhaling, trusting that

your body will inhale again.



Hope is watching the sunset and

setting an alarm.

Hope is planting seeds in the winter,

assuming summer will come.

I never said it would be easy.

The ground is frozen, you are

thirsty, and the night is long.

But I will say this—

I have found hope to be the rhythm

of love and the fiber of faith;

For to hope is to believe in God’s

ability to bring about a better day,

And like a child with an

Advent calendar,

I will always be counting down

the days.

So to those who cradle pessimism

and fear,

You can find me outside—

with the kids—wishing on stars,

Praying to the God of today

That tomorrow will be just

as beautiful.

Set your alarm.

We’d like for you to join us.

The sunrise won’t wait.

A prayer by Sarah Are