These Three Remain.. Hope

I have to start this by saying I don’t always feel particularly hopeful as I look around and hear all that is happening. There are a lot of reasons to be discouraged, even depressed. Upheaval, suffering, injustice, disasters, anger, death, and evil surround us at nearly every turn. I can say that my Faith sustains me, and it does, but I still feel beaten down and exhausted by all the chaos and hurt and anger and misunderstanding.

Faith sustains us in times of trouble, but our hearts can still feel heavy. Faith tells us that God is in control, but we can feel powerless in the midst of suffering. What keeps us motivated to look for the best on even the worst of days? What allows us to have joy even as we grieve and strain and suffer? Faith is our anchor, but what renews our strength, and keeps us looking beyond the storm?

In 1 Corinthians 13, the Apostle Paul talks about things that are temporary– possessions, knowledge, gifts, prophecies– and three things that remain: Faith, Hope, and Love. Last time, I wrote about Faith. But Hope is a more difficult and more nebulous concept. The writer of Hebrews defines Faith for us– “the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). But there is no substance or evidence for Hope. Hope is not a physical anchor; it is not a realization. Neither is it a mere wish, or dream; at best, it is an expectation. Yet Paul says it “remains,” even when other things pass away.

How is this possible– that a Christian should Hope after all else has been lost, abandoned, or destroyed? Isn’t Faith more solid, more important, than Hope? Aren’t knowledge, obedience, and perseverance more important and more tangible? Isn’t hope wispy, fleeting, and conditional? Lately, it sure seems so. I say that I hope we all get through these tough times; that we will come through all this stronger, wiser, more compassionate, more just, more prepared, etc., but what am I really hanging on to? Where is my Hope?

My Hope DOES have substance and a sure foundation–in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and in the sure promises of my Heavenly Father! I may have wispy dreams and half-formed wishes of what I would like to see in my life or in the world around me tomorrow, or next year. I may have dreams and visions of what Peace and Justice and Health look like– and I may never see them materialize in my lifetime. I may have to adjust my vision within the temporary world of possessions, and gifts, prophecies and human systems of government and society. But I can remember the life of Christ; in spite of His circumstances, He remained true to His purpose. In His death, He remained compassionate, humble, and loving toward those who hated Him. In His resurrection, He brought eternal Hope to all who choose to trust Him. I can Hope because He fulfilled God’s promises. He WAS Hope. He gave Hope, and He demonstrated Hope. And He pointed to the Hope of His return and our eternal destiny!


I can be inspired by the dreams and hopes of other Christians throughout the years, even if their dreams have not been realized. I can be inspired by the prophecies of others, even if they don’t match my visions. And I CAN see beyond the darkness of the moment (or the year) to see that people (even I) can change; situations can change; circumstances can change; rhetoric and tone can change for the better. Painful valleys and unexpected upheaval may not be what I would want, but sometimes, it serves to clear out the “sinking sand” where dream houses would otherwise be built.

And Hope is necessary to Prayer– Faith tells us that God hears, even when we can’t see Him or hear His answer. Hope tells us that God cares. He is not aloof in hearing our prayers. He doesn’t answer us out of some worn sense of duty or obligation. He doesn’t just give us His law or even His forgiveness– He gives us restoration and Hope and abundant life! Hope for change in our own lives; hope for progress and healing in our world; hope for victory over sin and evil. Most of all, hope for eternity. God is just and merciful, but He is also gracious and loving beyond all measure. I can cry out when all other hope is gone– His Hope Remains! His Hope is a Solid Rock. His Hope comes with an eternal guarantee.

Come To Bethlehem

“O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,
O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem!”

“Come to Bethlehem and see
Him whose birth the angels sing;
come, adore on bended knee
Christ the Lord, the new-born King.”

“O little town of Bethlehem,
how still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
the silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
the everlasting light;
the hopes and fears of all the years
are met in thee tonight.”

“Come!” It echoes in our Christmas Carols; it echoes throughout Jesus’ ministry. It thrums and courses through the prophets and into the Revelations, “Amen, Come Lord Jesus!”(Revelation 22:20)

Christmas is all about coming– the coming of the Christ Child; the coming of the angels to shepherds; the coming of the shepherds to see the newborn King; the coming of the Wise Men. And we are bidden to “come” to Bethlehem and share in the joy and wonder of God coming to be our Emmanuel– God With Us.

But the journey to Bethlehem is not as easy or a joyful as one might imagine. Bethlehem is crowded. It is dark and dreary. It is not “silent” as the hymns make out. It is noisy, dirty, and filled with people who “aren’t from around here.” There is no room here. There is no joyous welcome. There is not enough to eat, what with all the out-of-town travelers; shelves are bare, while garbage is piling up in the streets. Tempers are high, and patience is low.

“Come to Bethlehem.” At this moment, Bethlehem is caught in the chaos and struggle of war. Hospitals are in danger. People live in fear and violence. There is no peace and quiet– no silent streets or glorious angels in the sky– only the light and noise of rockets. We may not be able to physically travel to Bethlehem at the moment, but we can focus our prayers on the Middle East– to the hurting people in Israel and in Gaza– to earnestly pray for truth and peace there. We may not be able to travel back in time to Bethlehem, but we can travel across town to help our neighbors who need encouragement; we can step out of our safe and comfortable lives to share light in the dark regions of today’s world. And we can “Come” to prayer– to lift up those who are hurting, to ask for strength and courage to help, to own our own limitations and emptiness.

“Come to Bethlehem.” At this season, we are tempted to stay where it is cozy and familiar; or to travel somewhere warm and welcoming. We want the joy and peace of the Christmas Season to come to us! But we are bidden to come to Bethlehem, with its crowded streets and suspicious strangers; its unfamiliar alleys and rude Roman officials. We are bidden to come and share this message of peace where there IS no peace. We are asked to come where there is need and darkness and fear– to spread the Good News, not to sit on it.

“Come to Bethlehem.” Are we avoiding our own “Bethlehem?” Are there places we could visit to spread light; places we’re being called to, or places where we should go to “be counted,” but we refuse to come? Are there people we can encourage? Ways we can share hope and help– if we are willing to come away from our own comfort and (manufactured) joy?

Perhaps we long to hear the angels shouting “Glory to God in the Highest!” (Luke 2:14) But if we won’t “come” to Bethlehem, we may miss their song. We may miss seeing the message of Christmas if we insist that it comes to our pleasant palace, instead of seeking the Babe in the Manger of the Little Town of Bethlehem.

“Come to Bethlehem and See.” “Come, Let us Adore Him!” “Come!”

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