Isaiah 2:1–5
This is what Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem:
In the last days
the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established as the highest of the mountains;it will be exalted above the hills, and all nations will stream to it.
Many peoples will come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the temple of the God of Jacob.He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.”The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples.They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.
Come, descendants of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord.
Matthew 24:36–44
“But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left.
“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.”
By Mercedes Thomas
I know I personally can be a bit of a pessimist, so the very idea of hope often feels contrary to my own nature. But I’m sure I’m not the only one who struggles with hope.
To hope, as Merriam-Webster defines it, is “to cherish a desire with anticipation; to want something to happen or be true.”2
At times, I think it’s actually easier for me to hope for the future the Lord has for me after death, than it is to have hope in my current life and circumstances. In fact, holding onto hope in my day-to-day life can often feel scary, dangerous, and even painful.
When I was a little girl, I dreamed of a future where I was happily in love and married. I wondered what my future husband would be like. I played house with my stuffed animals and read great love stories about princes and princesses, and I wondered when my love story would begin. However, as the years have passed and singleness has remained my story, I have struggled to find how to still hold hope—while also trying to protect my heart from dangerous fantasizing or fixation.
Whether it’s a desire for marriage, a longing for a child amidst infertility, the provision of a new job, the desperate yearning for healing, a relationship with a loved one to be restored—and the list could certainly go on—we all know the struggle of hoping for something we do not have. And I wonder how many others have, like me, considered giving up hope, because having no hope seems less painful than longing for something that is never received.
This week’s readings for Advent look forward to the Day of the Lord, when Jesus will return, punish sin and wickedness, and restore the earth back to complete wholeness (shalom)—its proper order.3 Isaiah 2:1–5 illustrates the new kingdom the Lord will establish, while Matthew 24:36–44 cautions believers to be ready, as no one knows when this day will come.
There’s a lot to feel hopeful about in Isaiah’s vision. Imagine a world where all peoples and nations will come together and learn the Lord’s ways and walk in his path. Where God will settle all arguments or disagreements and there will be no war. And where people will turn their efforts towards growing and cultivating, rather than destroying and killing. It seems like a fantasy too good to be true, but God will do it. This is our future we hold close in anticipation.
However, the reality of this already-but-not-yet-ness of the kingdom means we sit between the beginning of this fulfillment—and the culmination of it. We long for something we know we will have, but have not yet received.
How do we hold onto hope for this future? And how can we hold both hope and reality in our earthly desires?
I think the passage in Matthew can offer us some insight. In verses 42–44, Jesus uses the metaphor of a homeowner keeping watch overnight to prevent a thief from breaking in. He notes that, if the homeowner knew the time the thief would come, he would be ready to prevent the break-in. Like the homeowner, we are to keep watch and anticipate the coming of the Lord. However, unlike the homeowner, we do not know the time the Lord will return, so we must keep watch and be ready for whenever that time comes.
Like the homeowner, we anticipate this future reality of the Lord’s return (and hopefully it’s a “cherished desire” rather than a dreaded one, like our home being broken into). We are at the ready and watchful of it, knowing it will come to pass.
But what if the homeowner didn’t know for certain that his home would be broken into? What if instead there was a 50 percent chance of a break-in? Should he still be prepared for and be ready to respond in case of a break-in? I think so; today, people have any number of door locks, security systems, guard dogs, etc. to anticipate a possible break-in. But we shouldn’t let ourselves be fixated on it, sitting awake and losing sleep every night because there’s a possibility a thief may come. And so, too, for the earthly things we hope for that are not promised. Whatever that desire (marriage, children, healing, etc.), we anticipate the possibility of it being fulfilled—but we don’t let ourselves become so caught up in the “maybe” that we stop living in our present reality.
I recognize this is easier said than done. As a single person who desires marriage, I know the ache of hoping for something that may never be fulfilled.
Romans 5:3–5 says, “ … we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”
I take comfort in these verses. It may sound silly to equate singleness with suffering, but for many of those who live it, they can agree it is a fitting descriptor. Over the years, the pain I have felt from my singleness has changed. Where it used to leave me depressed and empty, now it makes me curious. Why is this pain resurfacing? What may have caused these emotions to occur? What do I currently feel is lacking? Oftentimes, this ache becomes more noticeable when I’ve stopped focusing time on my relationship with God or others. What I feel I am lacking is intimate connection. In this way, I’ve seen my suffering begin to produce character—a character of self-reflection and intentionality. And as this character has grown, I have found that finding hope in my singleness has become easier as well.
The Christmas season reminds us to have hope. Hope in our Savior who became human and lived among us. Who understands our desires and temptations because he experienced them all himself, yet lived a perfect life without sin. Who went to the cross willingly, knowing the torture and suffering he was going to face, all because of his love for us.
We, as his followers, have hope for the future he has promised us, that is already and not yet. And we hold loosely the desires we have for this temporary life, taking them to the Lord with hope. May he give us the grace and joy to receive his answer, even when that answer is “no” or “not yet.”