Advent 2020: Hope

The theme of the first week of Advent is hope. So from the get go, not only are we invited to wait, but this waiting is characterized by a particular attitude.

Waiting may seem passive, but when we consider an attitude of hope, we see some of that intentionality that we wrote about in the previous post. In a way, we all wait, like it or not. But doing so full of hope requires a decision on our part. One that takes a risk. And if there’s something most of us do, it's avoiding risks.

 

As kids, we do not always understand the risks. That is why it is necessary that the adults in our lives teach us not to approach the edge, to avoid talking to strangers, and to refrain from going into the pool immediately after eating ( I'd rather stay hungry).

As we reach adulthood, we have been trained to avoid risks to preserve ourselves. However, while avoiding some risks may be beneficial, that’s not always the case.

 

I may not be the risk-taker extraordinaire here, but 22 years ago I asked Charlotte if she wanted to be my girlfriend (I was terrified), 10 years ago we ventured to live in New York while we were studying (cold weather, anyone?), and 4 years ago we moved with our 2 daughters to live in Uruguay (5,000 miles south of NY, in case you were wondering). I could mention more examples, but I think my point is established. And I can't imagine my life without taking those risks. 

 

They say that ignorance is daring, but as my wife says, hope is even more daring.

 

Hope dares to face the reality of a world full of illusions and disappointment (we are not ignoring it), but it does not stop there, but rather invites us to see beyond. To go beyond. 

The hope we talk about in Advent is about seeing reality as it is, but that includes what God has already done, and what He has promised to do. In that sense, hope is closely related to belief.

 

Hope in Advent approaches the darkness head-on, but rests on the fact that, as Wendell Berry said: "It gets darker, darker, and darker, and then Jesus is born."

 

Again, as children it was easier to believe. But some of us we have learned that part of growing up is to stop believing (whether in fairy godmothers, Santa Claus, or even in God). We choose cynicism and sarcasm as weapons to defend ourselves, to guard our hearts, so that we are no longer disappointed or hurt.

Yet when we do that, we also guard ourselves from experiencing being fully loved. 

 

But it doesn’t have to be this way. In Advent we are invited to dare to wait full of hope. Paul makes a prayer, in Ephesians 1: 18-19, for the eyes of our hearts to be enlightened so that we know what hope God has called us to. Hope that is based on the incomparable power of God that acts in favor of those who ……wait for it… BELIEVE.

 

It seems to me that this is what Jesus meant when he talked about being like children. That we take risks, that we may dare to believe. The kingdom of God is for those who dare to hope, who dare to believe.

 

Let us examine our hearts. Let us invite God to examine it with us. Do we need you to shed some light in there? Let us consider that we have been called to a hope, not as one who leaps into darkness, but as one who leaps from darkness into light.

 

Sarah Bessey expresses a similar longing in her book Out of Sorts, saying, "I hope we are all more inclined to listen, to pray, to wait."

 

Listen. Pray. Wait.

 

Paul, now in Romans 5: 5, reminds us that this hope (different from what the world can offer) does not disappoint us because God has poured out his love in our hearts.

So hope is also about love.

 

If there’s one thing we remember in Advent, it is that we hope in a God who loves, who loves us, who loves you.

Dare to believe, to wait full of hope. Hope in a God who loves you, who keeps his promises, whose power works for you, and who invites you to trust that his light shines in the dark, and the darkness cannot stop it.

 

"My soul finds rest in God alone, my hope comes from him" Psalm 62: 5