Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. – 2 Corinthians 4:16

It’s Holy Week and in the Christian tradition, this time is marked by the themes of faith and hope. My pastor, Derrick, made the distinction of faith and hope like this: they are complementary, but faith is rooted in the past, and hope is rooted in the future. Faith is about having trust in a God that hasn’t gone back on his promises, while hope is anticipating a future glory related to that trust. “The already but not yet,” as he called it.

The story of Jesus dying on a cross and then coming back to life beckons us to recall the moments in our lives when we felt loved by God while waiting anxiously for his next display of affection. We can recount the deaths we have suffered (as I mentioned last week) while expectantly waiting for rebirth.

I can look back over my life – and especially the past three years post-divorce – and recount numerous examples of divine love. There has been so much learning and so much healing. Already.

At the very same, I can sit in the tension of a still-grieving heart while its fibers reach across the chasm of brokenness, sinew by sinew. They stretch, slowly, gently, weaving together a messy yet beautiful bridge of trust and hope. Not yet.

I love how Franciscan priest, Richard Rohr puts it:

“The risen Christ is the standing icon of humanity in its full and final destiny. He is the pledge and guarantee of what God will do with all our crucifixions. At last we can meaningfully live with hope. It is no longer an absurd or tragic universe. Our hurts now become the home for our greatest hopes.” (Source)

Death and rebirth. Faith and hope.

While we remember the victories of our yesterdays, we can hold space for the dreams for our tomorrows. All the while, we can celebrate that our todays are being used to grow, change, and refine us. Already and also not yet.

[Photo by Monika Grabkowska on Unsplash]