I am the weary traveler who has traveled the winding road to nowhere longer than time has known a name. Once an eager adventurer sure to find everything dreamed of and quite sure that no one had ever wanted it more or was more likely to find it than I.
I am the broken and beaten; head blurry from falls unnumbered and beatings too brutal to recount. So many times I have begun again convinced that determination was the means to the goal.
My name once was Hopeful; hopeful for peace and power and magical vision. I drew strength from a spring that had no end and ran swifter than the stag. Hour upon hour I charted my course and exuberantly sang the praises of my journey.
I am the one in whom all hope has vanished…yet it remains somehow in the recesses of my heart. Hope; unreasonable hope to begin again and somehow journey to the new, the hoped for, the giver of hope.
I am the pursuer of hope because without it breath is stale and blood stands still. I am the one who believes the journey refines and gold weeps to be released from the slag.
I am the dreamer who must dream, must hope, and must journey, for the destination is too precious.
“These are the words of him who holds the seven stars in his right hand and walks among the seven golden lamp stands. I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance. I know that you cannot tolerate wicked people, that you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them false. You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary. Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first. Consider how far you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first.” Revelation 2:1-4