I grasp for the tenor of my heart, fingering the flesh and the feeling, the Spirit and the Living. I find nothing. I take measured breaths, an intermittent gauge, a test. The scales are leveled; nothing weighs nothing.

I mean and I purpose and I try and all I find at the day's end is a lot of nothing. I hold my breath, maybe good things come to those who wait. Maybe they don't, but what if they do?

I know to spit out the What Ifs of yesterday; they left sourness in my mouth, coldness in my heart, but I took comfort in the What Ifs of tomorrow. I used to think that disappointment was the cause of my melancholy, hopes that never saw fruition, dreams that never woke up. But today, while I take the pulse of my life, I find that Hope Deferred is Hope Suspended, Prolonged, Delayed, and this is why the sickness of my heart.

Gathering too much manna for today, I horde tomorrow's supply, stretching my hope too thin: it can't sustain. It isn't meant to. Today's portion for today. Hope Suspended, held taunt between today's unbending reality and tomorrow's nebulous future, makes the heart grow sick.

John 14 is my dwelling place this week. Learning to ask and not fear, abide and not run, helped by the Holy Spirit, not thinking I must be Its helper. He says that if we ask anything in His name, He will do it. He doesn't give timetables, we are human, bound by time and circumstance; He is God, free of constraints and tomorrows. He gives grace to the doubting, though: Believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; or at least believe on the evidence of the miracles themselves.

This comforts.

And so I find evidence around me. I pick up clues from my world. I catch myself believing in the evidence because the hope that there's more is too grand, too big, too overwhelming for today. I pick up white flakes that sustain my hunger, abase my desire. The taste is secondary to the provision. He provides, that is enough.

Holy Spirit, Helper, help me now to believe. To place the evidence on the scales of my heart--to weigh them heavily against the nothing of their counterpart. To know that You are present. You are here. You are speaking. You are providing.

And that You have, too: given evidence for today.
And that You will, too: give bright hope for tomorrow.

Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.