“In Christ, My Hope While I Breathe”
Let me translate that for the modern church:
“My hope is not in politics, progress, therapy, vibes, or visibility. My hope is in Christ—while I still draw breath.”
Not in the next cultural trend. Not in the next conference. Not in your Enneagram number.
In Christ. While I breathe. That’s it.
The Latin might sound poetic, but the theology behind it is violent. It kills self-reliance. It crucifies worldly hope. It declares war on every false gospel your flesh tries to resurrect.
Hope Is Not a Feeling—It’s a Foundation
Let’s get this straight: hope isn’t some abstract, airy sentiment that floats around your devotional journal like a butterfly on a caffeine high. Hope is concrete. It’s anchored in the blood-soaked reality that Jesus Christ—crucified, buried, risen, reigning—is coming back.
Hope is not:
- “I hope this season gets easier.”
- “I hope the next sermon hits better.”
- “I hope culture starts to change.”
Hope is:
“Christ is King—right now. And no matter what happens, I belong to Him.”
That kind of hope doesn’t move with the polls, the news cycle, or your emotional weather. That kind of hope keeps you breathing when the world is suffocating in despair.
If Christ Isn’t Your Hope, You’re Already Dead
Let’s be blunt: most modern evangelicals don’t actually hope in Christ. They hope in Christianity as long as it’s comfortable.
- They’ll hope in Jesus until their kid comes out as gay.
- They’ll hope in Jesus until a pandemic hits.
- They’ll hope in Jesus until culture calls them a bigot.
Then suddenly, they’re quiet. Suddenly, they’re “deconstructing.” Suddenly, they’re chasing spiritual relevance instead of faithful obedience.
But when your hope is in Christ, not comfort— When your breath depends on His Word, not the world— Then you can say what Job said: “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him” (Job 13:15).
Real hope doesn’t flinch. It bleeds and keeps singing.
Dum Spiro—While I Breathe
Every breath you take is borrowed. And while you breathe, you’re in the war.
- You’re not called to drift—you’re called to endure.
- You’re not saved to coast—you’re saved to contend.
- You weren’t ransomed to relax—you were ransomed to reign with Him (2 Tim. 2:12).
So stop gasping for cultural air. Start breathing Scripture.
“All Scripture is breathed out by God...” (2 Tim. 3:16) So that you, while you breathe, might breathe it in.
Breathe in His promises. Breathe out your praise. And when you’re gasping from the wounds of battle, crawl back to His Word and remember:
“In Christo, spes mea dum spiro.”
If You’re Still Breathing, You’re Still Battling
Let me talk to the tired saint for a second. You’re not done. If you’re still breathing, the battle’s not over.
- You may be bruised—but you’re not buried.
- You may be weary—but you’re not wasted.
- You may feel alone—but you’re held.
Christ has not let go of you. And as long as you breathe, you fight.
You fight with:
- The sword of the Word
- The shield of faith
- The armor of righteousness
- The hope that cannot be severed by sin, sorrow, or Satan
You don’t need a breakthrough. You need a bloody, rugged, resurrection-secured anchor. And you have it. In Christ.
Christ or Nothing
There is no Plan B. There is no backup hope. There is no compromise that won’t cost your soul.
So plant your feet. Raise your eyes. Draw breath—and use it to declare:
“In Christ, my hope while I breathe.”
Because everything else is smoke. And He is the Rock.
Take a deep breath. Stand firm. And don’t flinch.
The King reigns. You’re His.
And He is enough.
In Christo, spes mea dum spiro.
Amen.
Thanks for reading.
