Hope for the future

 

For thirteen weeks, my sister Judy and I had hitch-hiked our way around Europe. It was 1970; she was 21 and I was 19. It wasn’t exactly ‘Race across the World’, but in those days pre-mobile phones, pre-credit cards for students, we were dependent on the cash we had with us in the form of traveller’s cheques, and largely out of touch with our parents apart from the occasional letter we picked up in poste restante in the American Express offices of big cities.

Our bible was Arthur Frommer’s ‘Europe on $5 a day’, and some days we managed it on even less. It was an amazing summer, but by the end of our trip we would occasionally lock eyes and say, ‘It’ll be nice to get home and let Dad take care of us.’

I’m so grateful for the amazing time we had and the once-in-a-lifetime experiences from hitch-hiking, where we got to speak to the ‘locals’ in every country we visited. We met some fantastic people. We also took a couple of lifts from some dodgy characters, and possibly came nearer to disaster than we were aware. By the end of it all, we were tired.

There is something about the hug of a loving dad. The protection and security he offers. A good dad will know what to do. We can lean in and be safe.

That memory came to me this morning in church as we prayed. I read too much news yesterday. Too much detail about nuclear war. Everything around me felt uncertain and shaky. What to do to prepare for any eventuality?

Then Tony preached on Jeremiah 31. ‘The people who survive the sword will find grace in the wilderness,’ ‘I have loved you with an everlasting love.’ ‘There is hope for your future.’

Lean in. The Father has promised never to leave nor forsake us; he gives grace in the wilderness, loving us with an everlasting love. Hope for the future.

Now I get to go to the baptism of nine young people, eager and ready to declare their love for and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ as their Saviour. Hope for the future indeed.