Clinging to hope this Advent season
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“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don’t give up.”
Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
Hope.
It’s a word we like to use a lot.
I hope my team wins the game. I hope they don’t run out of pepperoni pizza in the lunch line. Or, I hope to see the Grand Canyon someday. I hope I win the lottery. I hope it doesn’t rain.
We’re rather flippant with the word. We treat it like you’re crossing your fingers and toes and closing your eyes really hard because you really really really mean this and you really really really want it.
And let’s not dwell too much on how we view our presidential candidates. Your candidate is probably our nation’s only hope. Conversely, my candidate is also probably our nation’s only hope.*
Of course, its also a certain Jedi Master, too…
Is that all it is?
We throw the word around like it’s some type of common object with no real meaning. We’ve managed to dilute the word. It has little meaning in everyday conversation. It’s pretty common to treat hope like it’s maybe just a little bit more than a really strong wish. At best, we treat hope like it’s a step that’s just slightly above a dream. And Disney has taught us that a dream is a wish your heart makes.
So it goes wish >> dream >> hope. But when we use these words in everyday practice, they’re practically interchangeable.
But it’s really not like that at all. It’s something much deeper. It’s something much stronger – it grounds you. It centers you. Hope is an anchor.
That’s what the author of the book of Hebrews says.
“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.”
Hebrews 6:19a (NIV)
The ancient Jewish people had it. They clung to it. And it got them through the darkest of days. In the writings from the prophet Isaiah, we find these prophetic words. And they are full of – you guessed it, hope.
Ancient hope.
“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
Isaiah 9:6
Remember, Isaiah was a prophet during the reign of King Hezekiah – around 700 B.C.+ This message of hope became the drumbeat of their lives. Times were tough, but their Deliverer was coming.
For hundreds of years, God’s people watched, waited, and yearned. In the midst of life’s circumstances – occupation, oppression, and hardship, they held tight to the anchor at the center of their community. As the waves of turmoil and distress tossed them around, they stayed close to the Rock that could not be moved.
They did that for centuries. And I’m sure there were times when all seemed lost. And it was tempting for the people of God to let go of the anchor that had centered them. Surely it was tempting to just give up and abandon hope. That’s the short-term, easy answer. Isn’t it?
Hope fulfilled.
After centuries of oppression and occupation, their hope was finally fulfilled. The Promised One had arrived. But they didn’t get what they had in mind. They expected a new government. What they received was the King of Kings. They expected a great warrior who would violently overthrow their captors. What they received was the Prince of Peace. They expected a popular Lion of Judah. What they received was the Lamb of God.
They thought they knew what to expect from God. They thought they had him wrapped up in a tiny predictable box. But He exceeded every expectation and surprised them with hope deeply rooted in the Kingdom of God.
And that’s what we find throughout the New Testament. The Greek word elpis is used more than 50 times in these scriptures. It literally means to have the expectation of what is certain. We find this hope by focusing on Jesus. And holding on to Jesus gives us an anchor against the storms of life^.
We have this hope.
This isn’t just pie in the sky stuff. It’s hope for today, as well as tomorrow.
Real, lasting, enduring, transcendent hope isn’t found in a person. You can’t find it in an institution, a government, or even a deeply held belief. Hope is rooted firmly in God Himself. And the hope that we have helps center us. Just like an anchor. We can persevere and endure because we are securely attached to the Rock that will not waver.
I think its safe to say that things feel pretty grim right now. Storm clouds block out he sky. Winds are picking up. Waves attack us. We’re jostled by the surrounding chaos.
Its tempting to turn our eyes away. Its tempting to let go of our anchor and seek safety in the shadows of temporary shelters. And there are plenty of these sanctuaries that look like they can provide immediate protection from the storm. People, governments, leaders, organizations, relationships, even social media can give us a sense of well-being.
But they’re only fleeting.
It’s Built on Nothing Less
Real, enduring, and lasting hope. It can only be found in the baby who was born in a manger; the one whose birth we anticipate every Advent season.
I don’t think this is an Advent song in the traditional sense of the word. I think it probably should be part of our Advent conversation, though. As we remember the hopeful anticipation of the prophets of old and look forward with expectation of Jesus’ return, let’s hold tightly to the anchor of our hope, which holds in every high and stormy gale.
In a world full of chaos, darkness, and fake messiahs, we can hold tightly. We can stay secure. We can be firm. Let’s live in hope – real, lasting hope – in the midst of hopelessness.
I’ve created a playlist on Spotify that I plan on listening to throughout the week as I focus on the hope that Jesus gives us. Maybe it will help you focus, too.
Endnotes
*In case you need a reminder, see here, here, and here.
+I know. Modern scholarship does not necessarily believe that all of Isaiah was written by the prophet Isaiah or his followers. They argue that Isaiah is actually three separate writings: First, Deutero, and Trito Isaiah. Deutero and Trito come from the school of Isaiah that lasted for several hundred years and are reflected in later chapters of the Book of Isaiah. You can @ me all you want, but I’m sticking with this prophecy coming from Isaiah.
^c.f. Sermon Starters from the Greek New Testament by Gerald Cowen
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