A small word that feels so flimsy, tenuous, whisper thin.
Dandelion seeds scattered with breath.
Just have hope—
–a punch in the gut.
A four-letter word, bitter and twisted in the mouth.
Like hinging your life on nothing.
My circumstances are too deep, too dark, too heavy.
Suffocating with their too muchness.
And I can’t hold them with human hands,
And my eyes can’t see for the tears that blind.
And hope is a slap on sensitive skin.
But maybe that’s the point.
Nothing is ours to carry.
To plan. To plot.
To wrestle into being.
To hold on tight with human hands, so weak.
To see with human eyes, so myopic.
It’s light, a letting go.
It’s heavy, an anchor for the soul.
It’s hinging your life on everything, because in the end, there’s nothing left but
Despite the bad news.
Despite the diagnosis.
Despite the years of waiting.
Despite the years of yearning.
Despite the pain.
Despite the despair.
Despite the rain.
Despite the scorching heat of the desert,
Despite the thorns and stones of the wilderness.
Despite the feasts of others when you’re dining on crumbs.
Despite the failure, the fears,
the groaning, the tears.
Hope is both the stubborn holding tight,
Hannah’s silent prayer, Jacob’s I will not let go until you bless me grip,
And the wild, free-fall from great heights,
letting be, letting live, letting go.
In Christ alone my hope is found;
He is my light, my strength, my song;
This cornerstone, this solid ground,
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My comforter, my all in all—
Here in the love of Christ I stand.
In Christ alone, Who took on flesh,
Fullness of God in helpless babe!
This gift of love and righteousness,
Scorned by the ones He came to save.
Till on that cross as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied;
For ev’ry sin on Him was laid—
Here in the death of Christ I live.
There in the ground His body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain;
Then bursting forth in glorious day,
Up from the grave He rose again!
And as He stands in victory,
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me;
For I am His and He is mine—
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.
No guilt in life, no fear in death—
This is the pow’r of Christ in me;
From life’s first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
No pow’r of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home—
Here in the pow’r of Christ I’ll stand.
“In Christ Alone”
Words and Music by Keith Getty & Stuart Townend
Copyright © 2001 Kingsway Thankyou Music