Hope
Last week was Easter - its hard to believe it was only a week and a half ago. The past 10 days have felt like they contained an eternity. A lot has been going on for me and I am finding it hard to hold it all. While I am breathing deep, I am still processing the lessons from Lent and Easter - especially the presence of hope.
Hope is an obvious part of Easter, and I did process some of my thoughts about that last week in this space. But I am still hungry for hope right now, and I want to know more.
What difference does hope make?
What does hope look like?
How can I hold on to hope in challenging days or seasons?
What if I can’t find hope?
That is a lot of questions for a 4-letter word, isn’t it? However, I really do believe that hope is a key part of our Christ-following journey - and I think it is a key part of our wholeness and well-being.
I will warn you now: I don’t have any hard and certain answers. I can only share observations as a fellow traveler.
What difference does hope make? Psychology says that hope implies that there is the possibility of a better future; that who we are and what we do makes a difference. Research shows that hope can help us manage stress and anxiety and cope with adversity. Hope is the thing that encourages us to keep going when the road is dark and the obstacles feel insurmountable. The Bible reminds us that God gives us hope (Jeremiah 29:11) and in Romans 15:13, Paul calls God the God of hope. A quote that speaks to me about the necessity of hope is from Thich Nhat Hanh. He says:
Hope is important because it can make the present moment less difficult to bear. If we believe that tomorrow will be better, we can bear a hardship today.
So if hope matters to me and to my journey, then how do I know it when I see it?
What does hope look like? Desmond Tutu said, “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” I love that quote and its beautiful word picture. I can relate to the dark and the light. But I want more nitty gritty, granular details. So I began thinking of places I have seen or felt hope and how they were connected.
Hope felt like my parents driving 6 hours down to Florida the day my husband died. It felt like my best friend holding space for me when I was sad and overwhelmed last week.
Hope looks like my son taking pictures of the sunset. It looks like the orange daisies the boys picked out for me for Easter because they know I love the color.
Hope smells like the forest on Monte Sano trails. It smells like the first cup of coffee in the morning.
Hope sounds like my friend’s voice calling to remind me that I am loved. It sounds like harmonies sung during worship on Sunday morning.
I’ve never found hope in a big flashy way. Hope comes to me in the small moments and experiences all around me. But I have to be looking. I have missed plenty of hope-filled moments when I was distracted or cranky or just not paying attention. Hope comes to me in the noticing of everything around me.
How can I hold on to it in challenging days or seasons? This is a hard question. It is easy to have hope when life is sunny and full of joy. But let’s be honest - there are plenty of dark and difficult days too, when hope is harder to grasp. Brene Brown says in The Gifts of Imperfection, “Hope is not an emotion; it’s a way of thinking or a cognitive process.” So at least in part, hope is a choice. There are seasons when I have to choose hope over and over again, purposefully and willfully, in defiance of my feelings and fears. On these days, when hope feels so foreign, I can choose hope by reminding myself of where I have seen God in the past, knowing that God is still present and steadfast today. One of my favorite verses speaks to that: Psalm 62:5, “Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in God.”
What if I can’t find it? Truthfully, sometimes I still can’t find it, despite my desperation and longing. So what then? For me, I turn to my friends, who hold my hands in the dark. I turn to the psalms, where naming and expressing every emotion is modeled. And I look behind me, at all of the places God has been faithful. Anne Lamott speaks to this persistent seeking:
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.
My friends, when you feel most unsure, most powerless, reach out for hope. Ask a friend or a mentor to hold the light for you. Remind yourself of all the times that God’s steadfast love has been present and sure. Hope is there. Easter teaches us that. I’m going to keep searching for hope. I hope you will too. Where do you see hope today?
“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.”