Where does hope come from?
Where do you get more hope if you don't have any, or if you don't have enough?
How do you maintain hope in the midst of so much,,, mess?
I find myself wondering these questions as we stare down the barrel of a presidential election season that I do not think will be pleasant -- it has not been pleasant so far, it has not been pleasant in years past, and frankly I think they are getting worse. I find myself wondering about hope because I don't think I know a single person that isn't experiencing some amount of political or economic or social angst: be it frustration, disappointment, anxiety, fear, or resignation. Things really nasty and I'm not sure that we see a clear way out of it; things have been nasty and I think some of us might feel resigned to the fact that it will be like this for a good while longer.
And yet I find myself wondering about Hope because Hope is what keeps the world spinning. I find myself wondering about Hope because Christians would or could or ought to be the ones leading the way to Hope in a culture that is so desperate for it. It has been tough work lately but as Christians, Hope is our job.
And if Hope is our job, then I would posit to you that everybody in this room has a story to tell of Hope. I really believe that, everybody here has a story to tell of Hope.
So I'm curious what story you have to tell of Hope. Maybe you have endured a frustration, a grief, a trauma, a rock bottom, and survived. Maybe there was a time where it felt like the walls were closing in on you and when all was said and done, you were not crushed by them. Maybe there was a time when you thought that there was not possibly a way forward for you, and yet here you sit today. Sometimes hope feels like: Look at all that I have survived, maybe I can make it through the next thing too.
I wonder-- in terms of hope-- if you have ever found yourself surprised by and grateful for the good things in your life. I think all the time about this line that people say: You have not yet met all the people in your life that will love you. Or, like, there are friends you have not yet made because you have not yet met them, they're on their way. Historically, this has been true for all of us, it was sure true before you met your spouse or your partner, it was true before you met your best friend, it was certainly true before you joined the Tuesday book group or before you signed up to help with the Wednesday dinner, or before you agreed to serve on church council. Sometimes hope feels like believing that there is love and care and friendship just around the corner for you that you cannot see but that is coming.
And sometimes, hope is a choice we make. Maybe we hope because we have to for the sake of those around us or those in our care. Maybe we hope because optimism feels better than pessimism or because acts of service feel better than nihilism. Sometimes we hope just because we want to, or because we were asked to, or because it's the only way to live.
All of these kinds of hope are echoed in scripture. Imagine how it felt for the people of God in the book of Exodus to find themselves wedged between the Egyptian army and the sea, to think this was the end for them, and to have survived it. Imagine how it felt for Ezekiel to have seen dried bones rise. Imagine how it felt to be a villager of Capernaum or Galilee one day a man comes preaching through town that, not the rich, but you are deserving of good things, of healing, of food, or care. Imagine how it felt to be one of the apostles minding their own business on a fishing boat and suddenly you are swept away into this grand mission of mercy, or how it felt to be an apostle promising Jesus that there was not enough food to feed all of these people and it turned out there was, or imagine how it felt to be one of the apostles huddled in the upper room after the crucifixion and he appears to you and you realize that the worst thing we can do to God is not enough to do him in.
The stories we tell from scripture are full of hope, but we also have stories to tell ourselves of hope, of resilience, of unexpected grace, and between the stories of scripture and stories from our own lives, hope can be pulled taut. So I guess what I'm saying is that if Hope feels thin these days, you can borrow it from the Gospel (or 1 John!) but you can also borrow it from one another. It's as easy as saying "hey where do you find hope these days" and then in follow up "oh thats so fun, will you take me with you" "can I come too". If it feels too vulnerable to do-- just sign up to be a quilter, go to the Tuesday book club, sign up to help with the dinners we host with Micah, ask pastor Lou to help him with youth group, I promise if you get past the initial awkwardness of being new, I think you will surprise yourself with how possible the future feels.
I don't know what's going to happen over the next three months and frankly I'm not entirely sure that I want to know!!! But I do know that no matter what happens, when we wake up on November 6th, our work will be the same: to figure out how to believe in a future where everybody gets to be okay, and then start living like it was already coming true.
Amen.
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