Living Hope

How great the chasm that lay between us
How high the mountain I could not climb
In desperation, I turned to heaven
And spoke your name into the night
Then through the darkness your loving kindness
Tore through the shadows of my soul
The work is finished, the end is written
Jesus Christ, my living hope

We shall sing this Phil Wickham song in church this morning…

Lent is a period reflection; I reflect on myself, I reflect on Jesus, I reflect on familiar words and truths that I learnt as a child and that I’m rediscovering. It becomes a deeper mystery that I explore and embrace.

Who could imagine so great a mercy?
What heart could fathom such boundless grace?
The God of ages stepped down from glory
To wear my sin and bear my shame
The cross has spoken, I am forgiven
The king of kings calls me His own
Beautiful saviour, I’m yours forever
Jesus Christ, my living hope.

I relate to pictures of chasms and mountains, dark shadows of night; my guilt, failures, shame, disappointments, unhealed scars.

‘The cross has spoken.’ It still speaks. I’m drawn again to its words of mercy and grace, loving kindness, forgiveness and salvation. I dwell again on familiar words, theological words that I can define and explain. Somehow, they move from theory to personal reality, moving from my head to my heart

Then came the morning that sealed the promise
Your buried body began to breathe
Out of the silence, the roaring lion
Declared the grave has no claim on me
Jesus, yours is the victory!

The narrative moves from cross to empty grave, from death to life, from defeat to victory. Jesus Christ my living hope isn’t just a song lyric or a nice idea. In resurrection I see and can know a God who can and does bring light from darkness, life from death, hope from despair.

Hallelujah, praise the one who set me free
Hallelujah, death has lost its grip on me
You have broken every chain
There’s salvation in your name
Jesus Christ, my living hope

So this morning I look again at Jesus. I look up at the suffering man on a cross: I gratefully, humbly, receive mercy and forgiveness that I can’t earn and don’t deserve. I stand beside the empty grave; I look in and rediscover a new power and freedom. I enthusiastically respond, with a new ‘Hallelujah’ of appreciation and gratitude.