Ever since naming my character “Hope” in the
novel my cousin and I co-authored years ago, the word has had a special place
in my heart. At the time, there was no particular significance to my choosing
that name other than simply liking it. In any case, ever since, I have been
gifted numerous items with “Hope” painted, printed, or otherwise displayed on
them, with the result that my thoughts are frequently turned to the word and
all that it signifies.
Perhaps it’s just me, but when I think about
hope, I usually think of something uplifting --something light and airy, like a
balloon rising from the earth or a bird soaring heavenward. Definitions of the
term include words like “anticipation,” “expectation,” and “confidence,” and
lend themselves to those kinds of cheerful images.[i]
But lately, I’ve been rethinking my
understanding of hope. Is it really a giddy, excited, buoyant trait? While it
is certainly uplifting, is it really as simple as that? Somehow, I don’t think
so.
The phrase that I keep coming back to is this,
taken from Scripture in Hebrews 6:19 (NIV):
We have this hope as an
anchor for the soul, firm and secure.
Did you catch that? Hope is described not as a
lifeboat but as an anchor. A hard, pointed, sharp, heavy anchor. Wow.
Interestingly the word “hope” is not in the original Greek in this verse, but
the concept definitely is, being explicitly mentioned in the verse prior.[ii] Here’s the immediate
context:
Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose
very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath. God
did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God
to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope set before us may be greatly
encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It
enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has
entered on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of
Melchizedek. (Hebrews 6:17-20, NIV).
"Hope” here is used as a noun and could be
read “the confidence” set before us, or “the expectation” set before us.[iii] And yet this expectation
is likened to something that sinks deeply instead of something that rises up.
A similarly weighty description of hope can be
found in Psalm 62:5-7 (ESV):
For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence,
for
my hope is from him.
He
only is my rock and my salvation,
my
fortress; I shall not be shaken.
On
God rests my salvation and my glory;
my
mighty rock, my refuge is God.
The imagery here from the words “rock,”
“fortress,” and “refuge” is one of groundedness and security. What we don’t see
in this passage is “He lifts me up” language. Rather, we get the picture of
hunkering down in a shelter of immense strength, an action that implies a
pressing need for such protection.
The Hebrew word translated “hope” here literally
means “a cord” or figuratively “expectancy.”[iv] So again, we have the
idea of being tied to something. Like an anchor is tied to a ship and keeps it
from drifting, so our hope is the cord that ties us to our Rock--God Himself.
This intense view of hope is so encouraging precisely
because of the times in which we need hope the most. It’s in times of drought
and darkness, in times of silence and seeking, in times of quaking and
questioning that our souls are in greatest need of help and hope.
And what is available to us then is not an
impotent pep talk or a cheery pick-me-up; it’s a cord, an anchor, holding us
fast to the truth of the promises of God--that He loves us (1 Jn. 4:10, 19), He
died for us (Rom. 5:8), He is with us (Matt. 28:20). He saved us from the
penalty of sin (Rom. 6:23), is saving us from the power of sin (1 Cor. 10:13;
Jn. 16:13), and will save us from the presence of sin (Rev. 22:1-5). We are not
alone. We are not forsaken. We have an infinite well of Strength at our
disposal.
The knowledge of those truths is encouraging
yes, but it’s deeply encouraging. It’s uplifting, yes, but in a grounded sort
of way. It burrows deep into our soul, and while we might feel blown by the
wind and waves, it ensures that we are not swept away by them. While we are
exhausted from the never-ending battle of spiritual warfare, it ties us to our
Protector and Defender. As the author of Hebrews says, it’s “firm and secure.”
It’s a gift, but it’s a weighty one. It’s expectant, but it’s absolutely
sure.
It’s strong.
It's heavy.
It’s hope.
To read the Arabic translation of this post, click here.
.لقراءة الترجمة العربية لهذا المنشور إضغط هنا
[i] Merriam-Webster Dictionary, “Hope.” See https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hope
[ii] Strong, James, The New Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1995), 649.
[iii] Strong, Greek 1680--elpis. For online version see: http://biblehub.com/greek/1680.htm
[iv] Strong, Hebrew 8615--tiqvah. For online version see: http://biblehub.com/hebrew/8615.htm
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