The Spirit Of Hope

OPENING STORY

On this Armed Forces Day weekend, I am reminded of one of the persistent dreams of my childhood. When I was a kid, there was nothing I hoped for more than to one day be a Soldier like my dad. In fact, both my parents had served, and some of my earliest memories were putting my dad’s Army-issued boots and parka on to go outside and tromp around in them. On camping trips we would use gear with that distinctive “Army smell”, and many weekends and patriotic holidays were spent with veterans groups honoring those who served. And when both my grandfathers died, they were buried with military honors. All this served to reinforce my desire to one day serve. As I grew older, the hope that I would get to serve my country one day was placed on the back burner as I went to college and started a family; but when one day in 2009, shortly after Samson was born, and Marcia and I were completely out of money and unsure what to do, I decided to to walk into a recruiters office and join up. This was the height of “the Surge” in Iraq and Afghanistan and while there was a wait list for Navy and Coast Guard Officers, the Army and Marines were taking just about anybody they could.

So, I went off to Basic Training at Fort Jackson, and after that headed to Officer Candidate School at Fort Benning. But one day, during a training exercise, where we were “reacting to contact” by jumping out of trucks and maneuvering on foot, I stepped in a puddle and broke both my knees. You heard me. I wasn’t jumping out of airplanes or practicing combatives or anything else manly or strenuous, I stepped in a puddle just right and broke my tibia. When the docs told me I would either need to go enlisted/needs of the Army (meaning I wouldn’t get to pick my own job) or get out, in either case giving up my commission, because it would take too long to heal; I decided to stay in and go enlisted.

Since I didn’t get to pick my job, the Army could have made me something adventurous and exotic like laundry specialist or water treatment specialist, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I still wanted to serve. And I had already spent many nights lying awake wondering if I would even get to with the extent of my injury. But through it all, I held on to the slim hope that I’d still get to serve my country in some way, and I ended up becoming a UAV operator. At the time I had no idea what a UAV or a drone even was, and had no idea that I would be at the forefront of aviation technology, or that the job would awaken an enduring love for aviation which I still hold today. I couldn’t have hoped for a better job, and I still thank God for the opportunity I was given.

WHAT WE HOPE FOR

If there are two things which are universal to the human condition, it’s that we all hold hope dear to our heart, and we all have to face disappointments and some time or another. Some of these can be truly devastating, and many of us carry the wounds of unfulfilled hopes. And yet, even being wounded, we find ourselves still hoping. Though many may not realize it, hope isn’t just a universal experience, it’s a universal need.

As Paul, in Rom. 8: 22-27 states,

“For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.”(1)

In this passage, Paul is clarifying something which is often misunderstood. He is both expanding the definition and the scope of what hope is. Despite what some might think, hope is not simply wishful thinking or putting our faith in an uncertain future. But that’s often how we use the word. We say things like, “I sure hope it rains tomorrow,” or “I hope the Cubbies win the World Series,” with the subtle resignation that the outcome of our “hope” is both uncertain and contingent on outcomes associated with impersonal chance. But this is not the type of hope Paul is talking about. Rather, he makes it clear that the hope of the believer, event the hope of creation, is the settled anticipation of things to come,(2) and the assurance that God is a keeper of promises.