I’ve paused to reflect a lot recently on hope. Hope gets a bit of a bad press, quite unfairly. It’s often held to be the last preserve of the irrational, the despairing and the naïve.

“I hope I one day I look as beautiful as this woman to the right!”
“I’ll get there, hope against hope…”
“I hope I’ll get that job, I really do.”

I’ve probably been guilty of indulging all these forms of “hope” in the past few months. But the Christian hope to which we are called is vastly different. This, for three reasons:

- first, the hope isn’t a conditional future. It’s not contingent on us doing, being, thinking, acting a certain way. It’s rooted in the here-and-now (or, in a phrase I recently read, “God’s today”);
- second, it’s rooted in God Himself. A covenant God. The Hebrew Bible uses two great words to describe the nature of our covenant God: hesed and emeth. Hesed is God’s steadfast love; God is abounding in love and kindness to His people. Emeth is God’s faithfulness; He will never abandon those He calls to Him;
- third, the hope is in God’s promise. When He says He’ll do something, He does it. Whether this is a “generalised promise” – “For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jer 29v11) – or a specific one He’s given to us personally, He will come good.

The coming together of these principles means that God’s “big picture” is not what we see in front of us. It’s the sum of the parts, seen and unseen, that is our hope. More than that, our hope is not in the coming true of a specific promise, but in the giver of hope – God Himself. And “Hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us" (Romans 5:5).

So hope is not a future wish. It’s the presence of the Holy Spirit in us, guiding us on life’s journey, through the hills and valleys, the highs and the lows. It is life in its fullness, here and now.

God’s faithfulness and kindness through the journey is our assurance that our hope will not disappoint. Quite the opposite, in fact. It will surprise, it will amaze, it will fill us with awe. Just when we begin to lose hope, the various strands and interplays that we have never seen coming together in the tapestry, suddenly do. Hope is fulfilled in our very grasp.

By the way, I’ve had a couple of comments that this blog is too serious. OK, here goes. The other day I was climbing into my car, and a bloke says “can you give me a lift?” So I say, “sure! You look great, the world’s your oyster. Go for it!”