Nothing gives more pleasure than disappointment turned to hope. It’s like the budding of a flower, petals which were shrunken in withdrawal, unraveling and stretching in beaming beatification. There is no blush — Just a brave display of approval by Him; the face-lightener, joy bringer, chin-lifting Christ. The Prize seen, we mirror Him –- reflection as in still water. Jacob looks upon his once dead son; he is alive, he is alive! Peter looks upon the once dead Christ; He too is alive. The countenance of the two is shining, a fire is lit. A narrow. Many yearn, they’re disenchanted. Others set their hearts on things, to Disparagement. The world is cruel toward certain dreams. Why? There is no furtherance, no continuance, no story-end. But, there is more to come, my friends; it is too early to quit. Here is the mistake, the hardening center, the darkening of mind. Here is…