Hope

 

Hope is in every little thing, as far as I can see.  Hope is optimism with a broken heart.  Nick Cave

 

Yesterday, we lit the candle of Hope that is the spark that stirs our souls to go once again to Bethlehem.  We go to witness/behold and to be held by the mystery and marvel of God’s grand entrance in a dusty/drafty barn.  Hope found in the most unlikely place and space.  The absurdity and audacity of hope in the bleak midwinter ~ even in Florida where the sun shines bright and the temperature is more moderate ~ because our souls can feel frozen, frail, and fragile regardless of the weather outside our window.  Hope is not dogged stick-with-it-ness or grit or griding it out in the face of too many obstacles.  Hope, which is to say God’s presence, is woven into every little thing, as Cave says above.  Hope is there and in you because all that is and will be is crafted/created/loved into being by God.  Hope is the spider who spins the web that the wind will whip through and wipe away.  Hope is the flower pushing through the dirt when there is still snow on the ground.  Hope is a single candle that starts a journey to the most unlikely place for God to show up.  Hope enlarges and engages our sacred imaginations to be detectives of the divine because God does not conform or contort to our “gospels” of fame and fortune and definitions of success.  Hope, as Cave says, is optimism (or possibility or God’s presence) with a broken heart.  Hope holds the “both/and” reality of life.  Yes, things are not great or grand as we might want them to be.  This is true when Jesus was born to two lower socio-economic working-class parents who felt the boot of the Roman Empire on their necks.  True today when we struggle to find ways to be human with each other, rather than hurt and hate one another.  Hope says God’s good news shows us another way, that most of the time will not win the popular vote but has the promise to turn our heart ~ home ~ world upside down/right side up. 

 

Cave knows such positive psychology may sound good on paper but is so difficult to embrace and embody.  He says there is, a sort of cynicism and distrust of our very selves … a rejection of the innate wonder of our presence.  There’s an attempt to find meaning in places where it is ultimately unsustainable – in politics, identity, and so on …[religion] deals with the necessity of forgiveness and mercy, whereas I don’t think secularism has found the language to address these matters.

 

Hope is wonder as we wander.

Hope is openness to be surprised by the sacred.

Hope is shared through care.

Hope is bravely, brashly, boldly living as if today is not the end of the story.

Hope is a comma in a world of periods.

Hope is a direction to point our soul and toes toward justice.

Hope is a fuel that feeds our life and spills out of the buckets we carry.

Hope is a choice, deliberate decisions that aren’t Pollyanna but know the brokenness and bruises of the world. 

Hope carries the woundedness and seeks to offer healing.

Hope hears, leans in, listens and decides to love.

Hope is God with us, in us, moving through us.

Hope is what sets us on the way to discovering the One who has eternity dancing in his eyes.

Hope is an invitation.

Hope is…

 

Fill in that blank above with YOUR life this week.  Amen.