“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade.”
1 Peter 1:3-4
If there was one way that I could begin to describe the feeling of hope, it’s the sure and certain arrival of spring. Where I live, it seems that winter is finally loosening its grip, the sun has begun to show her face a few more hours each week, and the bright yellows of daffodils and mild greens of grass shoots have begun to appear beneath my feet. The promise of warmer days feels tangible and real, as if the sky, earth and air are full of hope, and as if everyone around me senses it too.
Hope, however, can be a tricky thing, no matter the season we find ourselves in. All too often, our hopes are easily dashed, can be taken away, or are revealed to be less authentic than they first seemed. Every single one of us has experienced false hope at one point or another, especially over the course of the past year. Gosh, remember last March when we heard the phrase: “Fifteen Days to Stop the Spread?”
During His ministry, Jesus consistently talked about hope, handed it out like it was candy, and was the personification of Hope Himself, the Savior of the world. But the type of hope He talked about was anything from being cheap or false. Rather, it was the hope of Heaven, the same type of hope mentioned in the verses above. This hope was made possible by Jesus’ death on the cross, requiring the greatest sacrifice of all. Jesus was well aware of the cheap hope that the world promises us, and was well-acquainted with the fallen nature of the world too. He knew we needed a living hope, hope that invades the space between the beautiful and the broken things of this life.
As caregivers, we’re often wading the waters in this space; the space between grief and joy, between hard days and beautiful ones, and amidst difficult and easily manageable situations. We need something more than the hope of the world, something that isn’t shallow or small or cheap. Rather, we need a hope that is living; a hope that resides in our past, present and future. At EPAGA Home Care, we press on each day, knowing that we are called to this living hope; a hope that is realer and richer than anything the world can offer. It’s always active and working, even when we cannot see it; like blades of grass beneath the surface of the soil, waiting to break out in the open. It’s this living hope that sustains the work of our hands, the mission of our company, and the compassion that leads us in our occupations each and every day.
