hope is alive

What is it about this season, spring, that seems to require a sense of hope? What is it about the human condition that requires optimism no matter the impossibility of a positive outcome? Lately, I have been wanting to write a poem that is poetic but has no hope, that has no optimism. I feel like it's impossible, if one wants to write something even remotely compelling. Maybe just for me, though.

I am definitely a person unable to accept a lack of hope. I always look for the rainbow, always look for the silver lining. It is insanely frustrating for me to interact with people convinced that things will never improve.

I wonder what role my faith plays in this. After all, no sin is too much, no betrayal too deep to render the blood of Christ useless. And, the grave wasn't strong enough to hold Him. Even the bleakest situation holds hope for me - not only do trials teach me lessons and make me stronger, but I always hold hope that the most stubborn, most sinful person can and will be redeemed. The night never lasts forever.

And so, I can't write something that lacks hope. It contradicts everything I know. Even when a hint of skepticism enters my consciousness and makes me wish I could spew doom and gloom...even when my emotions tell me things are hopeless, I am unable to put this hopelessness into words, because, at my core, I don't believe that hopelessness is even an option.

Nevertheless, sometimes I catch myself being slightly bitter about the fact that it is spring - spring is a constant reminder of hope. When I do not feel hopeful, when things seem hopeless, that is when spring is unwanted, because it is a silent reminder that I am wrong. Warmer, brighter days will always come. After all, Jesus is alive. Hope is alive.