Send us a textWords- Jon SwalesBeats- Sayburn 'Father' Hope leans forward,tender,listening to the whispers of creationgroaning for renewal.It does not turn its face from shadowsbut gazes through them,finding in the darknessthe first faint glimmer of dawn.There is a holy audacity in hope—a quiet trust and boldness,knowing the story is heldin hands not our own, nail scarred hands that invite usto weave and work with thema future of beauty and grace.Hope speaks wherefear falters,narrating a kingdom ,telling a storywhere the scattered are gathered,where the weary find rest &the exile a home.It does not retreat,nor stumblebeneath the solemn,world-weary weight.It moves with sacred purpose,a searching grace,a steady faith.Hope is a spring,a foretaste,an existential refreshinga momentary liberationthat lifts us from despair.Hope knows the wounds of this world,but counters fearwith holy persistence, &holy resistance,declaring that there is not a hurt he will not heal.Hope,a gift,a call to action,a quiet confidence that moves towards the pain—not alone,but with hands outstretched,pulling the darkness of this worldtowards the light of Christ.Hope leans forward,Tender,‘Be ready,Greet it with a kiss.’

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