Holding Onto Hope

A Word for the Year

Back in January, I decided my word for the year would be “hope.” 2019 was a challenging year personally—mostly internally as I battled depression. As the year came to a close, I welcomed the fresh start that came with a new year and a new decade. And only a quarter of the way through 2020, I think many of us are ready for 2021.

This year has been nothing like we expected, but the idea of hope seems more relevant than ever. There’s loss and grief all around, and the world is longing for healing, restoration, encouragement, change. We’ve always needed those things, of course, but it seems like many of us actually recognize that need more than we used to. We used to think we were in control or we could figure life out. At least I thought that. But yet again, God is teaching me that I am not in control—and that’s a good thing. He’s teaching me that hope doesn’t depend on my ability to navigate my circumstances or on how well I can figure things out and solve problems.

Where Hope is Found

My hope is found in the life, death, resurrection, and reign of Jesus. 1 Corinthians 15:19-20 says, “If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied. But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.”

But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead. There’s our hope. In an article written in anticipation of Easter this year, Tish Harrison Warren put it this way:

But, in the end, what made Easter morning matter was never the packed sanctuaries, never the hymns or celebrations, rituals or rites. Just as the quietness of that first Easter did not determine if the stone rolled away or not, the locked doors of our local churches don’t determine it either.

The truest fact of the universe this Eastertide is not death tolls, emptied sanctuaries, or overcrowded hospitals. The truest fact of the universe is an empty tomb. The Resurrection is the only evidence that love triumphs over death, weakness prevails over strength, and beauty outlives ashes. If Jesus is risen in actual history, with all the palpability of flesh, fingers, bone, and blood, there is hope that our mourning will be comforted and that death will not have the final word.

Our hope is not an esoteric philosophy or shallow optimism. It’s not dependent on my abilities or if I can control my circumstances. It is the full assurance that God will do what he has promised. It’s the confident expectation that he is working, that he is bringing his kingdom on earth as it is in heaven, that he will redeem and restore all that’s been broken.

It’s a hope we can build our lives on.