St. Paul would have hated me.
I’m a bossy woman with short hair who refuses to take a back seat to any male who contradicts me.
For the last few days, I’ve been mulling over his “three great virtues: faith, hope, and charity.”
Some people prefer to say “faith, hope and love,” but these days, I think charity is in shorter supply. After all, everybody loves migrants and refugees, but I don’t see too many of their champions putting fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room, you know what I mean?
Charity is love with action, with teeth, with courage.
I apologize to those who are indeed opening their hearts, homes and wallets. Please don’t take offense, you very rare souls; I have nothing but admiration for you.
But I don’t want to talk about love and charity right now. I have another question for St. Paul and those who purport to understand him.
If you have faith, why do you need hope?
To me, hope is like training wheels for faith. You hope for something when you kind of think God is going to hear your requests and provide what you’ve asked for, but you acknowledge the possibility that He might blow you off.
Right now, my husband and I would be in a much better place if a certain event happened.
I could say, “I hope this comes to pass,” but that just seems too wish washy.
Frankly, I’m waiting for it to happen.
Because God has always provided what we’ve needed.
We haven’t always gotten what we wanted… the shore house, the boat, my season tickets to the Met and his season tickets to Yankee Stadium seem to have fallen through the cracks… but every important need has been covered. We’ve always had a home and good food; our health has been tended to, our kids received educations and they both have careers; both have been lucky in love.
So, I don’t need to hope that God’s next big blessing will materialize; in full faith, I expect it to be.
Now, I will admit that faith does not always conquer impatience. There have been many times when I’ve wanted what’s coming sooner. I do right now, and I’m almost afraid to pray for fear of nagging the Almighty.
But He knows who I am, and He knows I’m a noodge. That’s okay. He takes care of me anyway.
I say this in faith.