I tried to put myself in a spot when I was really hoping for something. What was it? What was it like? When we were in the process of adopting, we had the received the photos of our kids as young infants—then we had to wait. It was just a few months but it seemed like the longest time. We had the evidence in hand, so there wasn't really any doubt that it would happen, but still—there was that waiting. Hope-filled waiting.
The Audacity of Hope is the title of a new book by Barak Obama. He explains that he got the title from a sermon preached by his pastor at Trinity Church in Chicago. But what does it mean? The dictionary defines audacity as "fearless daring": being willing to undertake things that require risk or danger. Hope—it's more than a feeling, more than just standing around. It's stepping out in faith to live toward the thing hoped for.
Barak Obama wrote about our life together as a national community. He declares, "It will have to be constructed from the best of our traditions and will have to account for the darker aspects of our past. And we'll have to remind ourselves, despite all our differences, just how much we share: common hopes, common dreams, a bond that will not break." Hope that is only about me, my future, my tiny circle, hardly qualifies. The kind of hope the scripture envisions always leads to a wider circle, to vision for the wider world.
Throughout history there have been groups who believed passionately in Christ's return. Some decided it meant they should literally go up to their rooftops and just wait. Others thought it meant there were hungry people to feed, injustices to overcome, people to care for, a gospel to share—and since the Lord might come at any time, they'd better get busy. It was hope empowered, hope in action.
Here's something else: he says, "What's troubling is the gap between the magnitude of our challenges and the smallness of our attention span—the ease with which we are distracted by the petty and trivial, our chronic avoidance of tough decisions, our seeming inability to build a working consensus to tackle any big problem." There are such things as hope-killers. Being in over your head with the credit card—the worst part about it is it sucks up all the oxygen out of the room. It prevents us from doing anything creative and redeeming with our money: yeah, I'd like to help that kid over there in Africa, but I can't afford it. So it robs both us and others of hope. Then there's a certain mindset we might get. This is how things are, and it will never change. Don't think that. Our worst times do go away, and sometimes they turn out to be the prelude to our best times. Consult not your fears but your hopes and your dreams. Think not about your frustrations, but about your unfulfilled potential. Concern yourself not with what you tried and failed in, but with what it is still possible for you to do.
—Pope John XXIII
Hope is by nature audacious. Bold. Daring. Risk-taking. How big is our hope?
In his description of the end times, the Lord tells of world-shattering events—enough to scare anybody.
But we are not to be scared: indeed, he says, "When these things start to happen, stands tall, lift up your head. Everything you've hoped for is getting very close."
So it's counterintuitive. The wise investor knows—when there's a market crash, it's time to buy. The Lord told Jeremiah—when the place was under siege by the Babylonian army: go purchase some land, and hold on, because this area is coming back—eventually. Jeremiah couldn't believe it—Lord, uh, this city is under attack—it's going to be reduced to a smoldering ruin. You sure I'm supposed to invest in land? Here?
And the Lord said, "Is anything too difficult for me? Just you wait, Jeremiah. This place is a desolation now—no animals, no people, nothing—but I will restore it." It will again be a land of plenty. Jeremiah acted on this word, this hope, even though everything was against it.
We don't know when or how the scenes in the gospel will happen. But in a larger sense they have happened and are happening in people's lives all the time. The other night after the storm I had to drive to Chicago's Midway airport. Conditions were a bit harrowing. We counted 16 cars in the ditch, and a semi. We hope nobody was seriously hurt. But suddenly plans are changed, and some might have faced life-threatening situations. When sudden change occurs, we feel all the emotions—fear, despair, anger sometimes. But there's the power of hope because of God: stand tall. Don't cower in the corner. Terry Fox.
But also, be bearers of hope. There are people who are investing in hope. Chandra Plong is 25 years old. Before she was born, her family fled the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia, and she came into this world in a refugee camp in Thailand. Two decades later, she made her way back to Cambodia, and started to reconnect with those of her family who had survived the reign of terror there. She called it an out of body experience, because she was so shocked at the living conditions—no running water, no sanitation, no medical care, little food. She wondered what she could do to bring something to people in such conditions. When the tsunami hit, she signed on with the U.S. Navy's hospital ship, the Mercy. Her desire to bring care to the desperate has resulted in a deep sense of purpose in her life and a strong connection to the team and to the patients. A boy was found unconscious in a rice field outside of Banda Aceh with a debilitating brain infection which has developed in many of the tsunami victims. Chandra was placed in charge of his care—and she worked patiently with him every day to overcome his paralysis. He smiled every time she entered his room. Eventually he walked off the ship under his own power—and he knew the English word for pears, because Chandra brought him pears from the ship's mess hall, and he loved them. Chandra, a child of the refugee camps, has grown up to bring hope to others. Because of her, for one child, at least, hope has a face.
Jesus tells us "When these things take place, stand up and lift your heads, because your redemption is near." This meal is a sign, given by Christ, that we have the promise in hand. It's not quite here yet in all its fullness, but we have enough to know it will be here soon. This meal transforms all our discouragements into hope, for it brings new life out of Christ's sacrificial death. In his name, we invite all who trust in Jesus, all who hope in Christ, to receive. |
