When I think about the word “hope,” I think about how
casually it is used. We hope for this
and we hope for that. We hope for many things.
Hope is not a rational topic. It is not about facts. It is about feeling.
Hope is probably best an attitude that we have or do not
have.
I suppose that with some semantic finagling it could be “operationalized”
in a quantitative variable for a psychological or sociological study, but it is
not a tangible or measurable concept in and of itself. It does not seem to support logical
positivism where truth is only everything that is quantifiable or measurable.
Hope tends to arise out of a need. We either are hopeful or
hopeless when we have a need. The need
can be small or the need can make us feel distraught.
Hope implies that we are powerless. In our powerlessness we
are dependent on someone or something else to meet the need. If we are not dependent on someone or
something, then we are waiting to see how events shake out.
We are typically in some form of suspense when we have hope.
We are caught between what we need and waiting to see what is going to happen.
The emotional backlash of such a need can be so overwhelming
and consuming that having hope is unlikely to be initial response to the need. Hope
may not be even the second or third thought in such occasions. The initial emotional responses in cases of
hope are probably more likely to be numbness, despair, or desperation.
I remember when my wife was having surgery to remove a brain
tumor deep in the brain nine years ago.
I was numb and in suspense for several days between the time that the
neurosurgeon said that the tumor needed to be removed and when I saw him after
the surgery to get his report that the surgery was successful. I was numb and focused on making the most of
each day because the worst could happen.
After the fact it was very meaningful that a Jewish man named Kal told
me that he was praying for me because he saw my plight—he did not want me to be
a widower with two young children. I was
not exactly thinking about hope in the weight that December 2005 day, but
looking back I think I had it.
We all have multiple hopes dashed. We have family members
who have disappointed us. We have people who have abused us. Many of us have
had addicted family members who have stolen from us and crossed our boundaries.
Many of us have had parents abandon us for any number of reasons. We have
friends who have not followed through on their promises. We have been victims
of office politics. The list could go on, but I am inclined to believe that
many people who have had multiple hopes dashed become either agnostic or atheistic
because they have to come up with some answer to resolve why all the bad stuff
has happened and I don’t blame them.
As we reflect on ourselves, we may focus on our inadequacies
and failures. We may dwell on how others do things better. . We may review our regrets and replay how we
would have done something differently.
Many of us wish we would have said I love you to someone who died. When
we get into pity parties we can feel despair in short bursts.
In many ways, this is what the message of hope is
addressing. Despite how bad things are
outside of us and inside of us, hope came down at Christmas. Despite how bad we feel about ourselves,
there is grace, the unmerited favor that God offers that started out as a baby
in a manger.
Many may struggle with God in light of all the pain experienced.
Christmas does not always have to be about Decking the Halls and Jingle
Bells. It is a good time to think deep thoughts and evaluate whether we have
hope.
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