It’s our first Advent with a little one and as such it’s meant that our Advent rhythms have had to be a little more flexible, but we have still been striving to embrace the quiet moments as they come, lighting mental candles as our arms busy themselves with snuggling this little one close. I’ve been meditating on hope, peace, joy and love this season…though not always on their “designated weeks”. They’ve each been pillars that I have needed in large doses this year.
Today offered me the gift of some quiet moments, as Graham quite enjoys napping on me. While sometimes I wish I could place him in the crib and busy myself with tasks around the house, I’m deeply grateful that his rest renders me immobile at times, that it forces me to slow and to breathe in quiet moments. He’s teaching me so much already, even without words.
As I rest beneath him, I contemplate this week of hope. I contemplate what it means in my own life and what it means in the world. A few verses of the old hymn come flooding to mind:
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name
On Christ the solid Rock I stand
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand
When darkness hides His lovely face
I rest on His unchanging grace
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil
On Christ the solid Rock I stand
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand
(My Hope Is Built On Nothing Less by Edward Mote, 1834)
Though not a Christmas hymn, I find it to speak so truly to the hope we have in Christ. These words stir my soul to contemplate all the “other grounds” I have allowed to become my foundation: accomplishments, material things, the approval and admiration of others, the illusion of control, self-importance, etc. But true and unshakable hope is built upon no such things. These world promoted values are crumbly material to build a life upon. And eventually, they all buckle beneath us. But Christ is our lasting hope. And when I allow Christ to be my hope and my foundation, all the other aspects of my life become more sound and stable.
If I were being honest, I would admit that often times, my heart has hoped more for the comfortability of the world than the will of God. For much of my life, I’ve hoped for that charming little house, those two cute kids, that kind adoring husband; the two car and admirable jobs sort of life to unfold. But our life hasn’t exactly taken such a shape. There’s been a lot more struggle for finding our way than I had anticipated. And while I do intentionally practice gratitude for the life I have and I recognize that the circumstances others face are far more difficult, everyone has their own quiet struggles to overcome and sometimes this life has felt really hard. It’s stirred a lot of insecurity up to the surface and a lot of second guessing myself and what I have to offer.
And yet, this life has encouraged far more growth than anything I would have picked out for myself. If it were up to me, I would select all the nice good bits and leave out any of the hard bits. This life with its struggles has deepened the roots of my faith. This life that is unfolding has proven more lifegiving for myself and for others. I’m reminded that it’s rare for others to feel particularly inspired by someone’s perfectly put together life. It’s often the way they cope in hardship, the way they make the most of things, the way their hearts seem perpetually content, the way they have worked to find their way. Though sometimes not particularly enjoyable in the thick of it, when we look back and see God’s presence and artistry weaving our life together, we can rest assured that God will continue to work things together for a greater good than we could imagine.
The hope that God promises has never been a guarantee of affluence and comfortability. God’s hope is an invitation to participate in His work in the world, to share in His creative imagination for what the world could be, to usher in the kingdom. And as we partner with God, it often follows that our very lives happen to bless us as well.
It is in giving that we receive. It is in giving our lives away that we find them. It is when we lift our gaze off of ourselves and upon Christ that we become our best selves, more holy and more accurate reflections of our Creator. We recognize that our hope is not a particular circumstance, but how we use our circumstance to give life and love.
The brokenness of the world is evident. We find it easily on a large scale and just as easily in our own lives and relationships. Death comes when it seems it shouldn’t. People we love say words that sting. There is bitterness and division and misunderstanding and hurt. But the hope we are given in Christ’s coming to redeem the world is solid. All those years ago, God chose to be one with us and today we recognize the ache within for all to be set right.
