This world won't define our hope.

It rained again today, for the second day in three days. It may rain again tomorrow, and I hope that it does. Truly this land needs the rain, for clean water, for crops, for hydroelectric power, for the renewal and refreshment that it can bring. The rain sounded to me tonight to be like a promise fulfilled, and a friend pointed out 6:3 (after Daniel). I also thought about 55:ten 'n eleven Isa. The rain falls equally on all men, and to all of us is given the chances and the hope.

I find that how I start the day affects the rest of the day. If I get up quickly, do my situps and pushups, shower, and still have time to devote to quietness and contemplation, it is easier for me to have a joyful attitude the rest of the day. If I lay in bed, and then rush through my morning routine, I struggle more with the rest of my day. I'm endeavouring to go to bed sooner so that I am not tired and sleepy when I wake up.

I struggle more and more every day that I am here to understand why it is that I felt led to agree to stay for another semester, and probably another year after that. I can see some of the reasons, but not all of them. I work to try to make sure that my reasons are the right reasons, and yet even as I work to do that, I think I'm working for the wrong thing in that. Rather, I am coming to see that my reasons will never be entirely right. There may always, no matter how much I try to eradicate it, some selfish or self-serving motive. It may be buried, it may be deep down, but it is probably still present. Instead of dwelling on this and staying focussed on me and my reasons, I want to change my perspective to a higher one. I want to press on, press on and know. Press on and see. Even though I struggle, this is no reason to give up and quietly surrender.

My hope is built on nothing less. This world can't define it, this world can't contain it. Were I to leave it, there is no place else for me to go. And I can't carry this vessel ashore without it's anchor.