Our political systems cause more anxiety than security. Violence seems normal as it’s a minute by minute part of the news cycle.  The economy feels fragile and families work multiple jobs just to survive.  The weather is increasingly unpredictable. Wars and rumors of war are constant just as they always have been.  Now as then, the world is still too chaotic to explain hope.

For most of my life, faith and hope were words I heard other people use, but they weren’t real for me. As a child, I suppose I had what some would call a child’s faith, the kind that comes from not yet knowing yet how chaotic the world can be. That innocent faith didn’t last long. When I was seven, my mother remarried an alcoholic, and overnight my world became unpredictable. Trusting anyone felt unreasonable, and hope wasn’t even an option. After all, hope requires some evidence that looking forward won’t reveal a worse nightmare.

I’ll call him Forrest.  He was a good guy, neither reckless, nor cruel,  nor nor an atheist.  He believed in God.  But he wasn’t patient enough to think things through.  He wanted results sooner than wisdom usually requires, and without the obedience that faith demands.  It never entered his mind that he was impatient.  He believed he was hopeful.  He also believed that acting on hope was what you were supposed to do, right?.