Across the Fence of Hope

We are well into the first week of Advent, the Christian season that precedes Christmas, that anticipates the celebration of the birth of a Savior, the incarnation of God and Man who brings hope and love into a broken world. The theme of the first week of Advent is hope, a quality that is in short supply in these pandemic years of fear, anxiety and loss. And yet, for those of us who won’t give up, won’t give in, won’t back away - there is hope. Always hope.

Advent is also a time of waiting: children wait for presents under the tree; adults wait to gather with family scattered and far; the elderly wait to hear from those they love, old memories of sweeter times paper-thin like their skin and bones. The liturgical churches are filled with waiting: for the Christ Child, for the Second Coming, for the King of kings, Feast of feasts. There are pageants and plays; concerts and caroling; parties and parades - all rituals that help us mark out the time of waiting until Christmas Eve and Christmas Day arrive.

Hope and waiting; waiting in hope? But what does that even mean? Hope is difficult to define. We use the word a lot (especially church folks), thinking we know what it means, until someone asks us to define it. Certainly, for churches worldwide, hope is a much bandied-about word, but I don’t think it is well understood. A Google search will bring up a tidal wave of definitions, root words, archaic translations - all sort of the same, but not the same. In my search, I came across one particular definition that is quite compelling - and it comes from the Merriam-Webster dictionary of all places: “to cherish a desire with anticipation". None of the definitions that arose from Biblical sources even came close to this heart-song of hope. And I can’t stop rolling it around in my heart, in my mind: to cherish a desire with anticipation- what a beautiful description of hope.

Our world today doesn’t hold much hope in its hands. We are too busy: too busy planning and buying and working and playing; too busy with FaceBook and Instagram and TikTok and movies and games. We don’t hold hope in our hands because there’s no room left there for hope. Hope has been replaced with anger and despair and exhaustion. And with no hope, there is no place to look to, no place to go. We are like refugees at the fence, wanting to have what’s on the other side, but somehow - feeling it is completely out of our reach. The cherished desires of our heart are no longer anticipated. And we find ourselves languishing without hope.

There’s much to be said for a hope that enters into the very core of our hearts; a cherished desire. And a desire that is anticipated and cherished is a desire that is tended and cared for with love. I think that if we think of hope in this way - as a cherished desire, then our hope will no longer be futile. I think if we have a cherished desire to see beyond the mess and chaos of our lives, that hope will lift our eyes up and out of the quagmire of life to what lies beyond.

I want to bring back hope. I want people to have hope again; the hope of things longed for, of cherished desires anticipated. Hope should spring forth from our lips, and guide us through the day. Hope should be calling our names, even in the midst of a chaotic day, in the swirl of what life brings. It is not my Polly-Anna streak speaking here, but my very down-to-earth and rock-hard knowledge that it’s hope that keeps us grounded in the very messiness of life, allowing us to lift our heads at the same time - above the mud and muck - and whisper thanks - for life, for love, for all the good things we have. As the psalmist says: “As for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more”. Ps. 71:14. It is in the praising and thanking that hope flares up hot and bright.

So in these weeks leading up to Christmas, take a few minutes to praise, to pray, to give thanks. Take a few moments to let go of the messiness in your hands, and grab onto hope - that hope of cherished desires that you anticipate with longing, with focus— and may that hope fill your heart with joy and laughter. After all - this hope? It is your cherished desires coming into their own.