Hope is Hazardous but Worth the Risk

You are overflowing with hope about some amazing thing that’s about to happen. You pick up the phone to call one of your people. You can hardly wait for them to answer. And then, when they’ve scarcely said hello, you blurt out, “Guess what?!” and tell them what you are over-the-moon excited about.

Then they say that thing no one ever wants to hear.

“Just don’t get your hopes up.”

Umm, what?

We’ve all heard it, thought it, or maybe even said it ourselves. But why are we compelled to diminish hope in those we love?

The caution is understandable. We don’t want anyone to jump feet first into the cloud of a dream world only to come crashing down when reality hits. But maybe we’ve got it all wrong. Maybe hope is not a tightrope after all, but rather the thing that provides stability in our lives. Perhaps real living happens when we encourage ourselves and others to hope and dream.

As much as I don’t want to be disappointed about anything, you know what I want less? For any of us to live without hope.

In the movie The Shawshank Redemption, Red, who is serving a life sentence in prison, says this about hope: “Let me tell you something my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane.”

His friend and fellow prisoner Andy replies, “Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”

Hope is a good thing, yet it can feel unsafe. We’re never more vulnerable than when we let ourselves hope for the things we want most. It may be one of the greatest acts of faith to live with our hopes held high. But it is our calling. As believers we are called to a life of love, and what does love do? Love hopes. Always. (See 1 Corinthians 13:17) And we can do so in confidence–not in naïve oblivion that everything will come up roses, but with the assurance that hope is the very thing that anchors us and without it we are unmoored.

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain” (Heb. 6:19 NIV).

An anchor is designed to hold a ship in a particular place when it’s properly attached and tossed into the water. What goes to the very depths? Hope does. Only when it’s tossed into the inky blackness is hope able to tether us to reminders of God’s goodness. He loves us. He will never leave us. He works everything together for our good. When tied to these truths, we cannot be moved. We are free to get excited and dream about what could be, assured that no matter the outcome, God is for us.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Rom. 15:13 NIV)

[Tweet “When our hope is in the Lord, we are not endangered; we are renewed.”]

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” (Isa. 40:31 NIV)

You know how anticipating the fun a vacation is half of the fun of actually going? Or how waiting in line for a concert is exciting because you are anticipating how great it will be? When waiting is hope-filled, it’s pleasurable. And the waiting is almost always longer than the event. If we leave hope at the curb and spend the entire waiting time telling ourselves our expectations won’t be met, we won’t be disappointed but we’ll likely be pretty miserable. Without hope, we choose defeat before we get where we’re going. Let yourself enjoy possibility. Dream. Hope.

I’ve done it both ways: lived with my hopes up and kept them at bay, and here’s what I’ve learned: high hopes are better. When I chose not to believe and things didn’t work out in my favor, the disappointment was not softened because I never hoped for the best. I also missed out on the enjoyment of time spent dreaming.

When I’ve carried hopes high, I celebrated all the more because I was anticipating the goodness all along. I’ve had hopes dashed after believing for the best, and it hurt. Sometimes it hurt terribly, but over time I came to understand that I was told no so that I could later receive a bigger yes. Other times, I wasn’t privy to the reason things didn’t work out, but I don’t regret the time spent hoping. My life was enriched through the hopeful waiting, and I will hope again in confidence that ours is a God of hope.

Melinda Mattson will follow any sign that leads to the promise of vintage décor and repurposed treasures. As a wife and mom to two dear daughters, her home is filled with equal measures of sugar and spice. She loves kindness and Jesus and is glad they’re meant to come as a package deal. She aims to embrace both with equal fervor. Melinda blogs at www.melindamattson.com.