Hope

We hope for a lot of things. "I hope you have a good day." "I hope she calls me for a second date." "I hope the teacher doesn't call on me to answer this question." "I hope that pregnancy test is positive." We use it for describing everything from a desire for a particular weather pattern to the slogan for an historic presidential campaign. Hope can mean anything from chance to concern to yearning to optimism to expectation. It attaches to flippant remarks as easily as to our deepest desires. We even hope against hope.

For most of my life, I've understood hope as a wish, something that comes up every birthday around candle-blowing time, but is never quite real. Hope, to me, was a passive aggressive roommate, all smiles and buddy buddy to your face, but left the "Dishes are like boyfriends; your roommate shouldn't be doing yours ;)" note on the pile by the sink. Especially these past few years, specific hope for a child has been an ever elusive, carrot at the end of the stick. To quote Tim Gaines and Shawna Songer Gaines' interpretation of an unspoken plea of a nameless woman in 2 Kings from their recent book, Kings & Presidents (2015), "'Please don't dangle hope in front of me. I can't deal with taking hold of hope, only to have it crushed. So please don't ask me to hope for something that can never be" (p. 67). If hope is a wisp of a cloud or bitter herb or can be applied to a burger just as easily as a child, thanks but no thanks. I'll choose not hope.

I have been learning, however, that as Christians, we have a different modus operandi when it comes to hope. The lens through which we view hope is built on a foundation much different than my genie in a bottle. Paul, in his letter to the Romans, gets at Christian hope in this way:


"22 For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. 23 And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body. 24 For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it." (Romans 8:22-25, New American Standard Bible)

Our hope, then, is more than an unfulfilled wish or side comment at a baseball game. It is the expectation of the coming of the Redeemer who makes all things new. The One who restores all creation to a right relationship and people to son and daughter-ship of the king. The One who brings new life into a barren land or womb. Christian hope is the painful and messy yearning for a different way and a trust that it comes through Jesus. A new way that drives us to walks of solidarity with and open arms to not just our neighbors in Orlando, but in Venezuela and Syria too. An invitation to the promotion of non-violence and conscientious objection in the battle of gun control and right to bear arms. A calling to adopt children and open our homes to fostering alongside child sponsorship. It's scary exposing ourselves to this kind of hope. But, "hope in the kingdom of God alters reality. For Christians, hope is leaning into the promises of God. Leaning indicates both motion and dependence...if you dare to put your hope in God, rather than in the world of kings, you will not despair" (Gaines & Gaines, 2015, p. 76).

This new way isn't fully here yet, so we have hope and we hope. We've seen glimpses in Jesus and how he interacted with creation, who he befriended, how he treated those with different opinions. We, alongside creation, are eager for the day our hope will no longer be needed. For now, "the whole of creation is in labour, longing for God's new world to be born. [And] the church is called to share that pain and that hope. The church is not to be apart from the pain of the world; it is to be in prayer at precisely the place where the world is in pain" (Wright, 2004, p. 153).

Does this new view of hope mean I get what I've been yearning for? No. And yes. My desires more align with the One who creates new life, so my hope is redirected from the world of kings where bearing a child is wish or life accomplishment to the kingdom of God where bearing a child is just one of many reflections of a new heaven and a new earth. Is it any less painful? No, but this new hope widens my imagination for how family is created in the the kingdom of God. Am I just giving up hope of a biological child to lessen my pain of disappointment? No; the potential for disappointment is greater when my hope is in the powers of the kingdom of God because I am relinquishing my definition of hope for a new one. But, at the same time, it is an eager anticipation for a new way. A new hope that I have the privilege and charge to bear witness to now explained, ironically, through the metaphor of childbirth.

"Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow" (Chisholm, 1923)! Especially if it does not involve a genie or boyfriend-resembling dishes.

Sources:

Chisholm, T. (1923). Great is thy faithfulness. Kansas: Hope Publishing Company.
Gaines, T. R., & Gaines, S. S. (2015). Kings & presidents: Politics and the kingdom of God. Kansas City, MO: Beacon Hill Press.
Wright, N. T. (2004). Paul for everyone: Romans, Part 1. London: SPCK.

Comments

  1. hey kelcey, thanks for bringing us into your journey. glad i could catch up with you through your blog

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