What is Hope?

 Hope . . .

What does it mean?

How do you hold onto it when it seems to be taken away regularly?

Is there a place we can actually place our hope that won't fail or disappoint us?

These are questions I asked in a post a few weeks ago.

I didn't have answers then, but they were questions that were pulling me to dig into Scripture to look for answers. I've spent the last few weeks looking at all the places in Scripture I could find the word hope - looking for answers to my questions.

I actually started with looking up the dictionary definition of hope.

The definition, according to Merriam-Webster dictionary, was actually much broader than I expected. I realized that when we use it in our everyday lives, the problem doesn't come from the way we define it; it comes from somewhere deeper.

I've tried to figure out to summarize the definition I found and I couldn't. So I am going to share the definition here. (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hope)

intransitive verb

1 :to cherish a desire with anticipation :to want something to happen or be true

transitive verb

1 :to desire with expectation of obtainment or fulfillment

2 :to expect with confidence

noun

1 :desire accompanied by expectation of or belief in fulfillment

     also :expectation of fulfillment or success

2 :someone or something on which hopes are centered

3 :something desired or hoped for

All of that seemed like what I hear and what I've talked and thought about when it comes to hope. So, there has to be something about it that we're still missing.

Why does the Bible talk about hope as being something we can be sure of?

If there's one thing we've learned as a whole in the last couple years, it's how quickly hope for something can disappear and we're left disappointed - trying to pick up the pieces again. Yes, as I read what the Bible has to say about hope, it seemed to point to something more stable, more sure.

As I was studying this, I found a definition of hope in my Bible dictionary that I found helpful. It says:

"Hope is a characteristic of genuine faith in God. Such hope is different from the hope people in general might speak of. It is not a mere wish for something, but a strong confidence that is placed in God." (Bridgeway Bible Dictionary, page 180)

That makes sense with my thoughts about it comes down to where we place our hope. 

The things that have disappointed and been suddenly yanked away in the last couple years are the things of this earth.

But God hasn't changed.

His Word hasn't changed.

His promises haven't changed.

So, a hope placed in God can't be taken away by something that happens in this world.

This is what gave the early Christians the boldness and the confidence to stand in the face of the opposition they faced. The book of Acts and Paul's letters are full of these declarations.

Near the end of his life and ministry, Paul says there words:

"And now it is because of my hope in what God has promised our ancestors that I am on trial today." (Acts 6:26)

We only have to skim a few of Paul's letters to the early church to know the price that he paid while holding onto this hope. There was something compelling about hope in what God has promised that kept Paul going, even in the face of difficult circumstances on earth.

So, I guess it all comes back to where we're placing our hope.

If it's in the things of this world, then we're going to find our hope easily shattered.

But, if it's in the things of God, then I can hold onto it no matter what this world brings our way.

It doesn't somehow make everything easy to place our hope in God and His promises. Life is still hard. But, it makes it possible not to lose all hope.

Lessons in Looking Back

 I posted the following as my Facebook status last week:

"Sometimes just knowing there's a name for what you're living with is a relief... even if it changes nothing, yet (before you ask, it's nothing serious going on, don't worry)"

While I'm not going to share in this space what exactly this is (at least not yet), there have been things related to it that I've been thinking about in the days since. And I wonder if some of those things are lessons that all of us could learn from.

When we have the perspective of looking back, as I have in this case, it can be easy to see some things as obvious that were missed at the time. We have a choice then, about how we respond. 

We can choose to get mad or frustrated or upset by the realization.

Or, we can acknowledge that our perspective is different now and we're seeing differently because we're not in the middle of it anymore.

Some of my favourite books on my shelf right now are the mismatched set of commentaries, my Grandma gave me when she could no longer read herself. I had no idea the treasure trove of lessons from my Grandma I was receiving alongside them. They just sat on my bookshelf for a while. Until the day I decided to pick one of them up. When I opened it, I discovered it was full of my Grandma's underlines of things that spoke to her and pieces of paper with her responses to what she read there.

One of the things I noticed over and over in what I read both in the commentary and in her notes, was her realization and desire not to live stuck in the past. To her it was very clear in Scripture that Jesus had come and died on a cross and rose again to free us from our past, so we can begin to live the lives God intends for us. 

She would regularly remind me of this in our conversations on the golf course. Every time I would start talking about something in the past, she would ask me the same things:

Are there people in this situation you need to make things right with? Don't wait to do that.

Are there things you need to confess and repent of? Don't wait to do that.

Are there lessons you can learn from this? What are they?

Once you've done these things, does it do you any good to keep living in regret or anger over what has happened? 

Then she would remind me that it was time let it go. That it was time to leave it with God and walk forward into what was coming next.

She would share about how she didn't always do this well. She wasn't telling me to do this because she thought it was easy. She knew it was challenging, but she also knew it was worth it.

I've been thinking a lot about this lesson since I shared the words I did on Facebook last week. In my case, this is something where I could look back and live in regret or anger, but it really does no good at this point. That just keeps me stuck in the past and not getting on with living the life God has for me now.

I think is something that applies to so much of our lives. And I'm grateful for the regular reminders from my Grandma while I was growing up.

"It's a Lot of Rain in One Place"

 "It's a lot of rain in one place"

Those are the words of a character on a show I was watching. They were using them to describe their situation. In that episode, there had been a series of losses to death of people in this character's world in pretty rapid succession. They were wrestling with the weight of it all.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

I had almost turned off that episode a few times, as it was hitting on my own grief over the many of losses to death - of family members and people at work - that 2021 had brought. I wasn't sure I could handle watching a show about that. But, for whatever reason, I kept watching. When I got to the end, I was glad I had.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

Those words resonated. They gave me way to describe what a series of losses of any kind coming one after another felt like. It put words, in a simple way, to the journey I've been walking. And then gave some insight into what it takes to get through these times.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

The impact of each loss is like a rainstorm over you - a downpour. It soaks you and it soaks the ground. Nothing about it is pleasant, but it passes eventually and things dry out again.

But sometimes another downpour comes before things have dried out from the last one. The already soaked ground becomes saturated - muddy and sticky. Your already wet clothing soaks up more water and starts becoming cold and heavy.

As the rainstorms keep coming, everything gets more soaked. The ground is a muddy, sticky mess that sucks you in. Instead of keeping you warm and dry, your soaked clothes stick tightly to you, feeling cold, heavy, and restrictive.

Eventually, you realize your stuck. The ground too muddy and sticky for you to get your feet to move by yourself. Any attempt to do so just sucks you deeper in. Clothes stuck to you with water - feeling heavy and restrictive.

You only have one choice at this point. You have to ask for help. You need some people who aren't stuck in the mud to help pull you out. People standing on solid ground who you grab hold of and who grab hold of you to pull you out.

But that's not the only help you need. Once you're unstuck from the mud, those soaked clothes need to be removed and replaced with dry ones. But when they're clinging to you so tightly, restricting your movement, you can't do it yourself. You have to allow others to help you do this.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

Asking for help isn't something we're taught to be good at in our society. Being able to do it all by yourself is praised and held up as the goal we should be working towards.

I think there are different types of help we need to ask for and some are easier to ask for than others.

Asking for help to get your feet unstuck? Not easy, but probably something we'll eventually be will to do when we really need help.

But, how many times do we ask for help beyond that? Not very often. 

Once we're unstuck, we go back to trying to do it all on our own again. We've determined we're going to figure out how to remove those soaked clothes ourselves. And sometimes we might succeed, but we're exhausted and defeated by the time we do. Often, we find out we're unable to do it ourselves.

Why do we do this? Why do we fight the help we know deep inside we need?

It's because once we're unstuck, we don't want to let anyone see what comes next. To admit we still need help means letting a least one person into places we usually hide from others. It gets close. It gets personal. It's vulnerable. It's scary.

But, it's necessary. It's how we get those soaked clothes removed and dry ones in place, without exhausting and defeating ourselves in the process. It's how we learn to live with the losses we've experienced.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

I don't know what your "a lot of rain in one place" has been. But, my guess is that after the last few years in our world, you have that place. That place where you feel stuck in the mud and took heavy and restricted by the weight of your soaked clothes to move. The intensity will be different for all of us. And the help we need to ask for will be different for all of us.

But, if there's something I've learned in the last few months: asking for help is the best thing we can do. It's not a weakness. It's not a sign something is wrong with us. It's the absolute best thing we can. Even if we do it shaking and terrified, it's the way forward in our "a lot of rain in one place."

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

But we don't have to figure it all out alone. We can ask for help.

"It's a lot of rain in one place"

What is your "a lot of rain in one place"?

Who can you ask for the help you need? Family? Friends? Church? A counsellor?

Hope?

 18 posts in 12 months.

2021 was a pretty quiet year on here.

It wasn't intentional. I started the year with plans for more, but then the events that would make up the year began to unfold and I didn't know what to write. I typically write about what I'm learning or studying here, but, for me, 2021 was really just about surviving more than anything else. Much of the time when I sat down to write, I had nothing to say.

Now, we're four days into the new year and I'm looking ahead to what 2022 might bring. I'm hopeful and I'm hesitant at the same time.

Hopeful about what could come and what God could do.

Hesitant because, after almost two years of disappointment and cancelled things, I'm finding it hard to fully engage in too much planning and looking ahead.

I'm wrestling with hope.

What does it mean?

How do you hold onto it when it seems to be taken away regularly?

Is there a place I can actually put my hope that will never disappoint me or fail me?

Romans 15:13 is a verse one of my friends prays regularly over others in conversation, that talks about hope. She did exactly that on Sunday after church in our conversation. 

It says:

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."

The God of hope.

This is the God we serve. A God of hope.

When I read this verse this morning and really took some time to think about it, it became clear that hope is possible because we serve a God of hope.

Not only do we serve a God of hope, we can be overflowing with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit in us. It doesn't seem that this is something that is dependent on circumstances. So, hope is possible regardless of what's going on in our lives. It is possible because we have the Holy Spirit.

Hope is something I know Scripture talks about a lot. And I think we need to look at what all of Scripture says to really understand it. That's something I'm going to be doing for the next while as we begin 2022. As I learn more about it, I'll share it here.

For now, I'm holding onto those words Paul wrote in Romans 15:13:

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."