“She’s arrived.” “He is finally there.” “I see them coming.” Waiting is difficult as tension rises, and doubts nag: Will she ever get here? Did he forget to start out? Whoops, I thought it looked like them on the horizon.

The German translation of “kindness” is “Freundlichkeit,” treating other people the way you treat a friend. The French describe “kindness” with words such as “gentilesse,” gentleness, or “bonté,” being good to others. The Spanish brings kindness together with loving others, “amabilidad.” “Kindness” embodies the attitude that fulfills the Lord’s command to treat others in the manner that we would like others to treat us. The word “kindness” expresses what it means to be human, for God’s kindness to his frail, failing, fallible, faithless, failed human creatures has reversed human history, as Paul recounts in Romans 5.

A profound sense of disquiet and discomfort has fallen upon the people of the United States. Rising prices, political assassinations, and random school shootings, the tone and content of public discourse have combined to confront us with the natural consequences of living out what we all want when we sing “I did it my way.” We turn in on ourselves, to use Martin Luther’s description of sinners, and try to “go it alone” or “stand on my own two feet.” We find ourselves alienated and isolated from those around us, from the weaker whom we lean on for support despite our wanting to stand on our own two feet, and from the stronger, who also are searching for someone to lean on without regard for the fact that they are crushing us.

Anticipation! The opening of a new school year, the first day on a new job, the first visit to a new vacation spot—countless are the situations we experience that build a sense of expectation of fresh vistas, different events, or strange places. A bit of intensifying excitement or mounting impatience often accompany our anticipation of what we have known was coming with the promise of adventure or enjoyment. Anticipation also can fill us with uneasiness, even fear, but even then, hope for alternative futures flash into our minds.

In late 2009 the status of the Euro seemed up for grabs because of unstable economies within the Euro zone, and common people shared the anxiety of economists about the future of the currency. At that time Chancellor Angela Merkel of the Federal Republic of Germany observed, “the most important currency in the world is trust,” not just trust in the currency but trust in the leaders who direct the economies it serves. People peering into the future did not know what was going to happen. Some doubted whether any good lay on the horizon, a worry that today we know was quite unjustified.

I have come to give life and to give it to the full,” Jesus said (John 10:10). These words occur in the midst of Jesus’ description of himself as the good shepherd, whose care of the sheep overflows through his own putting his life on the line to protect his sheep from wolves and thieves. His picture opens the floodgates so that we can glimpse his overflowing self-sacrificial love as he lays down his life for those whom he knows as his own.

The words “holy,” pleasing,” “good” are big words, not in terms of the number of letters they contain, but in terms of the size of the ideas they represent. They crack the boundaries of our imaginations and dribble—or rush—into the darkness beyond. There is more to each of them that meets the eye, or ear, for that matter. We grasp for their form and shape, but they elude us.

Forever is a long time. Forever moves beyond time. And we are going to be repeating the song a long time and beyond, the song that praises the God of deliverance, the Lamb of sacrifice, who came back from the dead.

I do not really remember my baptism. I was only a couple weeks old and have not a clue as to what my reaction was when Pastor Schwidder poured water on me and gave the Lord’s promise that I belonged to him forever. 

Firm footing makes for the secure confidence that human beings need to feel comfortable enough to move freely through life, seeking always to do what we are here to do. We look and long for a solid foundation on which to construct our lives, our identities. Altogether too often the feeling that we are trying to find our balance on shifting sand overcomes us. Shifting sand is composed of granules of the debris ground out of structures for life that we have designed to keep life in order. These structures also evaluate how well we are doing at living a good life, however we may define it. Our self-made designs crumble sooner or later under this pressure into shifting sand.

“Hope” is not always a very hope-filled word. 

 “I hope” has come to express anticipation of no more than a less than likely outcome for our dreams and plans. “I hope” often attempts to accomplish no more than hanging onto a little bit of fading light in the black hole of a future filled with darkness. “I hope” is what we say when we cannot say “I am confident,” “I am sure.” That is quite the opposite of the words “I hope” when said by biblical writers and those who echo them into our own day. Biblical hope fills the black hole of the future with the person of Jesus Christ. Christ glows in the dark. As the evangelist John wrote of Jesus, “the true light that enlightens every person was coming into the world …to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave the power to become children of God …” (John 1:9-13).

The phrase “you can run, but you cannot hide” begins a number of popular songs. The expression echoes the words allegedly said by the boxer Joe Louis about an opponent in the ring. It is true that there is no place to hide in such a defined, closed space, but one would think that somewhere in the universe, if not in the depths of some deep cave or as far into the jungle as you can cut your way through the vines, there would be some little hole where no one could find a person. True perhaps in the case of the best of searching parties, but not true for God. There are times when we want to run and hide, and there are times when we get lost in life’s jungles or deserts and long for his company. King David had experienced both feelings. David confessed in Psalm 139 that the Lord had been keeping track of him, both when his tracks showed his hurried pace to escape the Lord’s watchful eye and when his tracks showed him desperately searching for the presence of his God. In this psalm David actually took comfort in knowing that God could find him wherever he happened to end up at the end of any day.

Heading for the stadium, I heard the band start up the school song, and long before I got to the gate, I was humming along. Late for church, the moment I opened the door to the narthex and heard the familiar hymn, I started singing along, even before I reached my pew. The melody erased my regrets about being late and concentrated my thoughts on the game, on the worship. Melodies float through the wind and grab hold of us, sometimes when we least expect to be able to sing. Voices lifted in praise whisper from around the throne of the Lamb, singing their joy and delight into the drab and dejection of the daily grind, catching us unawares with their everlasting song.