Find Hope.


No day of my life has passed that has not
Proved me guilty in your sight
The best I have to offer are these filthy rags
And yet you love me

All things in me call for my rejection
All things in You plead my acceptance

I am guilty but pardoned by grace I’ve been set free
I am ransomed through the blood you shed for me
I was dead in my transgressions, but life you brought to me
I am reconciled through mercy
To the cross I cling

No more am I a slave to sin but
Bought with a price
Redemption that was purchased through the blessed cross
That You bore for me

The cross is where I find death, is where I find life, where mercy found me

— To the Cross I Cling, The Village Church

He gave His Best


Thy name is love,
in love receive my prayer…

Grace cataracts from heaven and flows for ever,
and mercy never wearies in bestowing benefits.

Grant me more and more

to prize the privilege of prayer,
to come to thee as a sin-soiled sinner,
to find pardon in thee,
to converse with thee;
to know thee in prayer as
the path in which my feet tread,
the latch upon the door of my lips,
the light that shines through my eyes,
the music of my ears,
the marrow of my understanding,
the strength of my will,
the power of my affection,
the sweetness of my memory.

May the matter of my prayer be always
  wise, humble, submissive,
  obedient, scriptural, Christ-like.

Give me unwavering faith
that supplications are never in vain,
that if I seem not to obtain my petitions
I shall have larger, richer answers,
surpassing all that I ask or think.

Unsought, thou hast given me
  the greatest gift, the person of thy Son,
  and in him thou wilt give me all I need.

— Excerpt from The Prayer of Love, Valley of Vision

Never I’ve found
A love so pure
To take all of my wrongs
And make them Your own
More than my mind and my desires hold
You gave me more
As I go to the waters
Memories rise, each step reminds
Me who I was and who You’re making
Soaking clean I’m finally free

… For all my days I will live to tell
Of Your goodness, Lord

For Hope & Peace.


I’ve been reading the book of Job over the past few weeks for devotions. These have also been weeks touched by illness, by sorrow, by unexpected — and sometimes unpleasant — news in the lives of family and friends. Yet reflecting on the life of Job, His steadfastness in God, His awe of God and faith in God even in the midst of much pain and confusion, there has been an inexplicable peace and hope. Job spoke not knowing the behind-the-scenes, and the ending, but we know the ending!

But we have the assurance:

So in all this, though questions remain, and trouble yet may come, there is a new hope and a sense of peace that I can’t explain. And all is well.


Sharing my devo notes (in case I need to look back one day, too):

Job 14| Job considers the brevity of life and the change in death
Job appears to have moved on to answering his friends, now to reflect on life and death — perhaps as a reminder to himself, or to his friends, too. He speaks about the brevity of life, and the sorrows it comes with. That sin is there. That God has determined the days of our lives.

Then he speaks of death, that once we die, we are cut off from this world. Trees are cut down and the stump seems to wither, but at the scent of water, it can bud and live again. But man is more like water drying up from the sea — once gone, is no more.

Job yearns for death again, that God would hide him in the grave until His wrath is past, then, at the appointed time, He would remember him again. He asks: If a man dies, shall he live again? He answers: All the days of my hard service I will wait, Till my change comes. You shall call, and I will answer You — what is this change?

These verses especially stood out to me:

v. 13 Oh, that You would hide me in the grave, That You would conceal me until Your wrath is past, That You would appoint me a set time, and remember me!

v. 14 If a man dies, shall he live again? All the days of my hard service I will wait, Till my change comes.

What is it that God should hide one in the grave until the appointed time, and remember him? What is this change that will come?

Matthew Henry explains that, on the one hand, Job may be speaking of the change from life to death, that he is preparing himself for death. It may also be possible that he speaks of resurrection (unknowingly… or knowingly… I am not sure.) — for the grave is a hiding place, and he waits until God’s wrath is past, and asks that God would remember him then. MH speaks of Noah in the ark, that God hid him from the destruction of the world, and reserved him for the new world, remembering Noah at a set time, and appointed time. And same as for the saints who now sleep in the grave.

It is not common for the living to remember death, or for the healthy to prepare for dying. But for those whose hope is in Jesus, we know that death is temporary, and we rise to eternal life. Yet to remember that death does come to all (unless He comes before then), and He has determined the number of our days, so that we may live wisely, to seek His purpose in our days on earth.

What does a life who knows and lives this truth look like?

I think about Jesus, and of Paul… Or the early disciples after Jesus’ resurrection — With purpose and urgency, yet with greater love and patience for people, and with peace and hope that is beyond what this world can offer. And all of this is ours to claim, too.


I have this confidence because
I’ve seen the faithfulness of God
The still inside the storm
The promise of the shore
I trust the power of Your word
Enough to seek Your kingdom first
Beyond the barren place
Beyond the ocean waves
When I walk through the waters, I won’t be overcome
When I go through the rivers, I will not be drowned
My God will make a way, so I am not afraid
You keep the promises You make
There isn’t one that is delayed
So I will not lose heart…


Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.

Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou.
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

We have but faith: we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see
And yet we trust it comes from thee,
A beam in darkness: let it grow.

But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear:
But help thy foolish ones to bear;
Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light

Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved.

I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel;
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.

My own dim life should teach me this,
That life shall live for evermore,
Else earth is darkness at the core,
And dust and ashes all that is

The baby new to earth and sky,
What time his tender palm is prest
Against the circle of the breast,
Has never thought that `this is I:’

But as he grows he gathers much,
And learns the use of `I’ and `me,’
And finds `I am not what I see,
And other than the things I touch.’

So rounds he to a separate mind
From whence clear memory may begin,
As thro’ the frame that binds him in
His isolation grows defined.

Oh yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;

That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroy’d,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete

Behold, we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last—far off—at last, to all,
And every winter change to spring.

I climb the hill: from end to end
Of all the landscape underneath,
I find no place that does not breathe
Some gracious memory of my friend

Who loves not Knowledge? Who shall rail
Against her beauty? May she mix
With men and prosper! Who shall fix
Her pillars? Let her work prevail.

Half-grown as yet, a child, and vain—
She cannot fight the fear of death.
What is she, cut from love and faith,
But some wild Pallas from the brain

For she is earthly of the mind,
But Wisdom heavenly of the soul.
O, friend, who camest to thy goal
So early, leaving me behind

Regret is dead, but love is more
Than in the summers that are flown,
For I myself with these have grown
To something greater than before

No longer half-akin to brute,
For all we thought and loved and did,
And hoped, and suffer’d, is but seed
Of what in them is flower and fruit;

Whereof the man, that with me trod
This planet, was a noble type
Appearing ere the times were ripe,
That friend of mine who lives in God,

That God, which ever lives and loves,
One God, one law, one element,
And one far-off divine event,
To which the whole creation moves.



— In Memoriam A.H.H., L.A.T.