Category: hope

“And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.” Luke 1:28-30

There is no denying the look – head tilted in question, brow furrowed by confusion, eyes wide with wonder – the telltale signs of bewilderment. For Mary, it all started with a greeting. For students, it happens during an examination. For me, it is the result of years punctuated by pain and loss.

This, I believe, is the essence of Christmas: a sequence of happenings that seem to mystify all those involved. An old man who declared, “Do you expect me to believe this?” A young girl who inquired, “But how can this happen?” A barren woman who exclaimed, “How could this happen to me?” Even wise men asked, “Where is this newborn king of the Jews?” Jesus’ parents marveled at what was said about their son, and all who heard the shepherds’ story were astonished. It is a cast of characters that freely expressed their questions. 

I, too, have so many questions. A relentless curiosity that seems all I have left of my identity – a connection to my past, a constant in my present, a continual hope of possibility. After years of experiencing so much unfamiliar, unprecedented, uncertain, I’ve learned to hold space for the unknown. A lingering conviction that favor is found in the seeking, the watching, the looking ahead with expectation. A truth I long to discover, know, and embody in the innocence of “what’s next?”

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12 

Unpredictable, unknown, uncertain – it is impossible to find affirmation in negation. When change is more rapid than adaptation, transitions more abrupt than response, consequences more sudden than reaction, it’s easy to get lost in the unprecedented.

Ambiguity has clouded my vision, isolation has dulled my perception, worry has blurred my judgement, and I feel overwhelmed by an exponential growth of dread. How long will routine remain hidden, obscured, concealed by the crisis of a moment?

But when I look in the mirror, I am struck by the one who is present, holding my gaze, standing face to face. This reflection that exists here and now cannot tell me if I am stuck, have reverted, or am evolving. This impression that is immediate before me does not know the time of day, which season, or what year. And yet it appears – quiet, still, fixed – recognizing this one who is known, and finding hope in the part that is seen.

“God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God.” Ephesians 2:8 

You know the feeling of beating the odds with a roll of the dice, or discovering you were dealt a striking royal flush, or spinning a wheel that stopped on the perfect number, or pulling a handle to reveal the display of “jackpot!” I actually never gamble, because I understand the nature of probability. I’ve done the calculations. I’ve studied its implications. I’ve observed its outcome under the constraints of a small sample space.

There is no reason in the random, or cause in a chance, or objective in the odds. The outcome is completely undeserved and irrespective of any action that precipitated it. This is grace. A favor that is improbable, unfathomable, beyond belief. More than a gift, better than free – it is like winning the lottery everyday.

I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  Lamentations 3:19-23 

It seems like I should have enough practice by now getting through a day I lived a year prior, and endured the previous year, and survived each year before that… but there are still certain dates I dread. No matter where I am, who I’m with, what I do – I’m still the common element.

There’s no escaping a pivotal moment that changed the course of history – setting off a chain reaction radically propagating each transformation until reaching steady state. Unlike events that are honored, esteemed, and cherished, some happenings may require a number of seasons to evolve towards bittersweet.

But as these days approach, it’s best to be proactive – creating a plan that impresses utility, imprints value, and inspires hope. This is because I’ve seen night fade into a thin strata of color, followed by the sun cresting the horizon. The next day acts like yesterday never existed. It marches in fearlessly, overtakes the darkness, and consumes the past.

The experience of the good that awaits makes the former appear untrue – as if it were a bad dream in contrast to the reality known when I awake. It is a welcome retreat, and I arise eager to experience the unexpected, the unexplainable, the unfathomable gift prepared for me that day. It is a day I will greet with arms lifted up, hands wide open, and a heart that is grateful.

For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.  Romans 8:24-25 

Hope – it feels like a figment of my imagination. But that is what it is since hope that is seen is no hope at all. An alternate reality sparked by belief in a promise, the communication of a prediction ushering in expectation. An anticipated outcome fueled by rationale based not on observation but visions burning in my heart. An assured future igniting a reason to be, a purpose to move in time from left towards right – the place where truth will be known. 

Which really makes me wonder about the morality of this action – to hope in hope. What sort of ethics should be applied to the promise or its maker that initiated the dream? But in the end, the onus of any thought – from greatest to the least – lies solely on the thinker. The one who interprets and constructs their understanding of this idea – the hope hoped for. And the work of redefining, revising, and refining the words used to share hope with others is the patience giving purpose while we wait.