“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain.” (CSB – Read the chapter)

We tried to plant some plants this fall. They died. We tried to keep them alive. We never mean to kill the plants we put in the ground or in pots. We planted these, though, right in the middle of an exceedingly dry spell, and we were so busy that we forgot to water them. Without water, plants don’t tend to make it. Kind of like a plant needs water to make it, our souls need hope. Without hope, we gradually wither up and die. The Advent season is a reminder that hope is available to us. Let’s talk about it as we continue our journey today.

Hope is powerful stuff. Hope can keep a person going long after most others have given up and gone home. It is what keeps us striving for some goal even against all odds. Hope is the secret to much of the success we experience as a people. It is what keeps the global population growing. It drives healthy and successful economies. Without hope, very little happens that is of any kind of enduring worth.

If we are going to say all of that, though, I suppose we should define hope. Google simply defines it as “a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.” That’s not necessarily wrong, but it’s also not very correct either. That kind of hope is generic at best and doesn’t result in the kinds of things I just wrote about in the previous paragraph.

If we really want to understand why hope is so important and powerful, we have to have a better definition. Let’s try this on for size. Hope is an enacted belief in a future state that will be better than our present one. Read that one more time just to let it sink in: Hope is an enacted belief in a future state that will be better than our present one.

Let’s break that down. Hope is necessarily future-oriented. You don’t hope for something in the past because it’s already happened. Neither is hope concerned with the present. When we have hope in something, that thing, whatever it is, hasn’t happened yet. Hope is not simply future-oriented, though, it is focused on a future that will be better in some way than the present. This is important, and it is what distinguishes hope from dread. If you are confident in a future event or outcome that is going to be worse than the present, you don’t have hope in that. You dread it. You fear it. You are anxious about it.

So then, hope is oriented toward a future state that is better than the present, but that’s not the whole of it. Hope necessarily affects the decisions we make now. Because we believe in this future state that will be better than our present in some way, we make decisions that intentionally lead us in the direction of this better future state. Indeed, without the evidence of our enacting our belief in this better future state, there’s no reason for anyone to think we actually have hope for it. There’s not really any evidence that we actually believe in it in the first place.

This is all what makes hope – real hope, not the hope-lite version Google defines when you run a search for the word – such a powerful thing. When we become possessed by this kind of a belief in a better future that is so compelling that we are willing to do things differently now in order to move ourselves and the people around us in its direction, we become capable of all kinds of things. We become willing to make incredible sacrifices. We become able to sustain enormous levels of tension and stress and even pain. We can persevere through all sorts of trials and challenges. Apparent setbacks don’t overly bother us.

People with hope are substantively different from people without. It’s the difference between watching a really close sporting event that your team ultimately wins the day after it’s happened, and you already know the outcome. When you are a real fan, you still watch then with just as much interest. You are still amazed at the incredible plays. You still get upset at the ridiculous calls. You still cheer every score. But you do all of that with a sense of peace, not anxiety, because you already know the outcome. However bad things may look at a particular moment in the game, the end is better.

Okay, but why is Advent a time for hope? After all, Advent is concerned with looking back, isn’t it? We’re celebrating the birth of Jesus which happened over 2,000 years ago. Yes and no. Advent is about preparing for the arrival of Jesus. Part of it is focused on celebrating His first arrival, but the real substance of the season of Advent is to put us in a place where we are preparing for His still future arrival. He came once, but He’s coming back. And when He does, He’s going to make all things new.

Sure, but where’s the hope in that? We have hope in it – that is, we believe strongly enough in this future state that will be better than the present that we make adjustments to our lifestyle now in light of it – because of our confidence that when He returns, we’ll be on the winning side. We will be a part of God’s kingdom, living in a right relationship with Him.

We have this confidence, because of what the baby whose birth we celebrate eventually did. The author of Hebrews talks about that here. Jesus spiritually went before God, behind the curtain, and stationed Himself there as one who can give us access through Him to God. We can be right with God in Him. When we are right with God in Christ, we are members of His kingdom. When the time for His kingdom to finally and fully come to this world on the return of Christ, we’ll be part of the fun. Thus we have hope.

If you are in a place this season in which hope is a fleeting thing, refamiliarize yourself with the stories of Jesus, and the hope that He brings us. We may be halfway through the season, but now is always a good time to start that effort. You’ll always be glad that you did.