Hope waits to be discovered, begging it seems that we believe in its existence sufficiently to pursue it in order to find it to be real in the pursuing.

Hope is not some flimsy belief that things might somehow work out. Rather, hope is a belief in a God who’s already worked it out.

Hope is not some thin thing that is subject to the winds of fate, but it is crafted hard by the hands of God.

My fear of endings too often blocks my hope of beginnings.

Hope crushed is never hope killed.

Fairness is not something to which we are entitled. Rather, it is something for which we hope.

Hope is oxygen to the soul, and God is the oxygen of hope.