On hope, glasses and root balls
Last week, as some of you will know, I was reading Rob Hutton’s hilarious little book Romps, Tots and Boffins. In it, he takes the reader through much of the use and abuse of language which typifies the press. When it comes to a definition of hope, he has this to offer:
“Hopeful (noun):One who is about to be disappointed, as in: leadership hopeful, Oscar hopeful or Wimbledon hopeful”
In pursuit of something a little more substantial I turned to the little book of Habbakuk, penned some 700 years before the birth of Christ by an author about whom we know nothing. The book’s Hebrew title is ‘the burden of Habakkuk, and at times it seems as if the prophet himself will be crushed by the burden he bears. He asks tough questions, get equally tough answers, but finishes up with the clearest definition or defiant hope to be found anywhere in the Bible:
Though the fig tree should not blossom
And there be no fruit on the vines,
Though the yield of the olive should fail
And the fields produce no food,
Though the flock should be cut off from the fold
And there be no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will exult in the Lord,
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
The Lord God is my strength,
And He has made my feet like hinds’ feet,
And makes me walk on my high places
What we see here is a kind of hope which is definitely not to be confused with optimism. Habakkuk observes with brutal honesty that things are bad : there is neither luxury food nor staple diet to be had. Nor is it an early statement of the ‘power of positive thinking’ – at no point does he suggest that in fact the fig will bud and the vine will flourish if he just wills it to be so. Instead this is a hope born of his individual and inherited experience of God. The same God who made his heart quiver with fear also fires the defiant hope which allows him to transcend his circumstances.
In reality, this is the only kind of hope which is worth the candle. A hope which is a kind of posterized “keep calm and carry on” will grow old and shabby very quickly. A hope which is an act of self-delusion insistent on things being marvelous when in fact they are awful is no more than meths for an alcoholic soul. True, enduring hope is like the ball of roots which holds up a tree. Every time a Christian exerts the influence of hope in adversity it adds another little capillary to the system of arteries, veins and other tiny vessels which make up the root ball. When the blows and the tree creaks, the whole is held up by the collected experience of God’s faithfulness shared by the many. In short, we stand together.
Just before preaching the sermon I wrote to a friend of mine whose faith is being tested to the very limits by adversity right now. He knew Habakkuk’s little message, and confessed that it was part of the roots of his family’s tree.
Image: xochi.info
