Hope for the ICU

We are going to talk about hope today. We are going to do that today because we are Christians, and it is the one thing that we truly have that the rest of the world does not. I am not talking about hope as some sort of wish or platitude that you put on a coffee mug. But I am talking about *real* hope. Hope that follows you into the ICU and beyond. This is the sort of hope that cannot be bought or earned. It is a hope that can only be given to you as a gift, because the promise of this sort of hope would be utterly outrageous to offer unless it comes from God Himself. Because, as it turns out, the hope we have isn't a silver lining or a place we will live in someday. Our hope is Christ Himself, and I hope that our time together will be one of worshipping Him and reveling in that hope together. 

I've chosen this passage today because it reflects where I think all of us to some degree where we are today. We lost a great man this week. My task here isn't to try to get us to stop grieving. That's not what this passage calls us to do. This passage calls us not to grieve, *"as those do who have no hope.*" We do have a hope, so our grief is different. It is with sobs and smiles. Tears of joy and pain.