I wonder why so much poetry is aimed at extolling the pain of hopelessness. The pain of hopelessness isn’t a virtue to be admired. It’s a cry of, “Get me to the hospital, I’m dying!” Which it should be. Help for the near-to-death is where the virtues come near to help.
I have a friend who had a grown daughter who was going through troubles. I was visiting him when she called him. She asked to come to him to talk. He said of course. I offered to leave them alone. He asked me to stay. He didn’t anticipate it would take long.
She entered his study where we were, acknowledged my presence and immediately collapsed into her dad’s arms, sobbing. She said, I can’t go on any longer. I feel so completely helpless. I can’t see any hope wherever I look! I have lost all hope”
I never forgot his answer to her. He said, with his arms enveloping his daughter: “Then take some of my hope. I have lots of hope to give. Take all my hope you need till you locate your own again.”
To transfuse hope into a person near-to-death for lack of hope, is a powerful thing to behold. And more powerful to do.
Hopelessness is a killer. Not an art.
I don’t need to talk about the huge teenage suicide rate in our culture. It should be well known by now. How many can we afford to lose? None! Not. One.
Save the shoot lest it be burned. Save the seed lest it be consumed.
Save the many. The field is huge.
As Christians we have lots of hope to give. Let us not miss an opportunity to give a transfusion.
Hebrews 6: 18-19