Burden of Hope

“We’re called to bear the burden of hope through the wreckage of a broken world.” 

 ~ Aedan Peterson

I'd Really Hoped

Have you heard the turn of phrase, “I’d really hoped that…”? This week was the first time I ever thought about it, because I found myself thinking it in a way that was much more intentional, serious, and literal than it usually flows off my tongue.

Usually, it means we’re disappointed, mildly. This week, it meant that I have hoped - really, emotionally, actively, persistently hoped. I have prayed, and desired, and doubted, and reinforced my hope by praying again. I have had so much real hope that it could happen that I have checked just about anywhere I could think to check, for news that it had occurred.

And so this week, when I think to myself that “I’d really hoped,” it is because I am so disappointed that it takes my breath away thinking about continuing to hope for these things. I am so disappointed that I almost wish I hadn’t hoped. Can you hope too obsessively?

Hope to Receive

One of my good friends tries not to set unreasonable expectations for how an event will go. She’s been burned in the past, and struggled to have a good attitude. We’ve all been there. I mean, even when playing Settlers of Catan and just setting up for the first couple of turns, so often I find that I had expected things to go differently, and now what am I going to do?

Recently, my friend was talking about her plans for the summer, and she hopes that it will accomplish this and that for her family. Internally, I scoffed. It sounded like one of those expectations that is very likely to be unmet. But then I caught myself. Love hopes for good. And these things are deep, significant goods that these people I love do need. And so, it is not bad to hope for them.

But is there a difference, I wondered, between expectations and hope? One of my thoughts was that hope holds hands open. When we hope, we are waiting for a gift, and we recognize that, in many cases, we may not receive it. And when we don’t, we don’t have anything to complain about. Whereas expectations imply a little more about rights, and a little more about control. And again, if we do receive the thing, with hope, it isn’t something where we sniff and say, “about time!” No, we get a chance to rejoice, to feel loved by the Giver and Doer of good things.

So we’re hoping, this summer, and daring even to build plans in alliance with our hopes.

Look Up from the Fray

The battle had raged all night long, a small people under siege, their women and children hidden away under caves behind the fortification, their enemies vicious and overwhelming. The outer dike was breached early. The wall fell well into the night. Only the caves and the fortress tower remained defended. And Aragorn stood above the final gates, looking out over his swarming, untired enemies - and the dawn.

How many times that long night had he wondered where help was? How many times had he and others exchanged reassurances: It isn’t over yet; don’t judge whether the promise failed until we see how this ends. How many times did he lean on his sword and look up at the sky, wondering about Gandalf and eagles and horsemen and other wonders undreamt of that could come to their desperate aid?

There was more to do. Orcs still crawled up the walls and men still threw down their ladders and grappling hooks. A sortie was assembling inside. But hope spends some of its time looking for rescue. Fulfillment may come, and one can’t help looking up from the fray to check if it has arrived.

Perpetual Praise

"I can hope because He has proven 

that He is worthy of 

receiving my hopes 

as a form of perpetual praise."

~ Taylor Dawn Rosequist