Hope for the Hopeless
If you know the New Hope Free Methodist Church building, you know that there is a big mural on the outside wall. On that mural is a painting where you can observe a wolf next to a lamb. The inspiration comes from Isaiah 11:6.
“The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them.”
By all accounts, it shocks our senses to picture a predator and prey coexisting. And the beautiful part is that they are not gazing at each other, but at something that is more profound than their animal instinct for survival: A little child leading them. It’s a visual not completely captured in our mural, but the implication is there to visualize if you take the time to imagine.
This is the hope of Advent. For the people of Judah, Isaiah is offering a vision of a remnant of Israel, from the stump of Jesse, being reborn and offering hope of something better than was before. Imagine a people on the brink of annihilation. Imagine a people struggling against hopelessness. A future that isn’t bright. A future that doesn’t involve success for their kids or grandkids. In fact, the glory of the past is a distant memory. The only prospect is a vision, a word from Isaiah, that what appears to be the end will not actually be the end.
Would you hold on to just a word of hope? Imagine you have nothing else to hold on to? I think it’s hard in our culture to imagine because we have so many means by which to improve our lot in life. Rarely do we exhaust all of our options, including family and friends. But hopelessness does invade once in a while. For some of us, the prospects that bring hopelessness are not matters of life and death, but they hurt none-the-less. Growing old and losing our faculties, our responsibilities, and our sense of identity fits in here. Losing a spouse with no prospect for filling the lonely void fits in here. Long term mental illness. Violence and displacement of family members with no ability to intervene and help. Losing a job and not being able to jump into the next one.
Hopeless situations drag us down into despair. But God does not leave us without hope. God has a bigger plan. Through Isaiah, he was reminding the people of Israel that they were still his chosen instrument, despite their wayward and constant rebellion. In Chapter 11 he reminds them that they were going to experience pain, but would also be restored. And the one who will come will change the entire equation.
We receive the same kind of promise when we reflect on the season of Advent. The incarnation of Jesus (that is his birth as a real human being) ushered in the promise of Isaiah 11 and becomes the sign for us that all the hopeless realities we face today are not the end of the story. They are part of the story. We are allowed to lament them and cry out to God in our discomfort and pain. But, we are given the sign of Emmanuel to remind us that even in the midst of the pain we feel, we can take comfort that the story is not over.
The tension of Advent is the tension of living between the two comings of Christ. His first coming upended things and changed the world. But, sometimes we don’t feel it. Advent reminds us that we have hope. While we seek to live in and make this world a better place, lamenting the pain and brokenness and fighting hopelessness, we put our hope in a God who will restore all things as part of His faithfulness. We can take courage in his approach:
3b “He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears;
4 but with righteousness, he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth. He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth; with the breath of his lips, he will slay the wicked.
5 Righteousness will be his belt and faithfulness the sash around his waist.” (Is. 11:3b-5)
What has you feeling hopeless this holiday season? Take it to the Lord in prayer. Don’t be afraid to cry out in pain and anger. And when you have lived into your sense of struggle, come back to the wonder of a future where peace, justice, and righteousness will reign. We’re all waiting. It’s not always easy. But we do have hope because of that little child they called Emmanuel.