Hope

According to Merriam-Webster, the essential meaning of hope is “to want something to happen or be true and think that it could happen or be true” (italics mine). That definition is weak, though, in describing why hope is one of my treasured words.* It places hope only a step above wish, which is to want something that you don’t think could happen right now. (That definition might take the fun out of your birthday wishes.)

However, I’ve been listening to myself lately and realize I often use the word in a manner in which it hovers just above the “wish” level, like “I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow.” When it comes to weather, my desires are more like wishes. So my casual use of the word has no close relationship to the hope that infuses me with a grand sense of well-being.

I identified three general characteristics as a starting point for why this word is special to me:

Hope is a path to pleasant and longed-for outcomes. We don’t hope to lose but to experience victory. We never hope we will be in a wreck but that we will reach our destination safely. We don’t hope for sickness or injury but for good health. The object of hope is always something most desirable.

Hope lifts our spirits. Our present circumstances may be uncomfortable, even painful. At times, they may seem dark and unending. But hope assures us they won’t remain this way forever. With hope, we know better days are ahead.

Hope is bursting with positive expectation. I picture a young child with nose pressed to the front window, intently watching every car that comes down the street. Finally, that one special car turns into the driveway and a man steps out. The boy flies out of the house and jumps into his daddy’s arms. Such anticipation is barely containable.

Living in the Cincinnati area, I had a close-up view of Bengals fever this year as the team won their way through the playoffs to reach the Super Bowl. The victory fury crossed all political, social, and religious lines. Even if, like me, you weren’t a football fan, these were our local boys and we were behind them all the way.

I caught a bit of a post-game discussion on the news while I was waiting for the station to get back to Olympic coverage of figure skating. The newscasters were lamenting the Bengals’ loss while also praising the team for an excellent season. Then one of them commented that what the team had done this year had given much-needed hope to the people of Cincinnati. That may not be exactly what she said, and I couldn’t find a replay of it to verify the wording, but that’s the idea I was left with. And I wondered what hope she was talking about.

The city was certainly united in a joyous common desire. It had been building up like a lottery jackpot. The past 30 years had yielded predominantly losing (or tied) seasons. And in the seven winning seasons, they didn’t get past the wild card playoffs. So it was understandable that the city’s spirits were lifted. It probably went even beyond excitement for their team and helped to lift them out of pandemic life and maybe, too, the dreariness of gray winter months. And then there was the exhilarating expectation by the people of the city that the Bengals could actually win the Super Bowl.

The situation fit Merriam-Webster’s essential meaning of hope. I’m not faulting the newscaster for her use of the word because, as I said earlier, I often use it quite casually. But when I heard her statement, my heart actually sank. I think it was because of her choice of the word needed. The hope that makes my heart soar is so much bigger than a football game. It isn’t just one of a string of hopes that pull me through life. It is one long hope that goes the distance.

My treasured word is the “good hope” that “our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father” gives us (2 Thessalonians 2:16). In Greek, the word is elpis. It means “expectation of what is sure (certain)” (HELPS Word-studies) and, more specifically, “in the Christian sense, joyful and confident expectation of eternal salvation” (Thayer’s Greek Lexicon).

This hope isn’t looking toward something that could happen, looks like it might happen, or even has a 99% chance of happening. This hope trusts 100% in gaining the objects of its desire, the eternal salvation Jesus secured for us through his resurrection and the inheritance awaiting us. “³Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, ⁴and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you” (1 Peter 1:3-4). As followers of Christ, we have a hope that is alive in us, sustaining us through every possible situation because we know there is always something better ahead.

God wants to give each of us this hope. The Lord declares that he has “plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11). The Hebrew word for hope is tiqvah. It is used for “expectation . . . thing that I long for” and literally means “a cord (as an attachment).” It comes from the word qavah meaning “to wait for” but has a primitive root meaning “to bind together (perhaps by twisting)” (Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance).

The hope God gives us is like a strong cord of twisted strands that binds us to that which we long for, spending eternity with God. As we wait for the fulfillment of our desired expectations, we can be sure hope will keep us connected. “There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off” (Proverbs 23:18).

Hope is

• the cord that binds me to every desirable outcome of victory, safety, and wholeness in God
• the buoyancy of spirit that comes from knowing I will spend every moment of eternity with Jesus, the one who loves me best
• anticipation of the day when I will run out the door of this present life and into the arms of my heavenly Father

This is why hope is a word in my treasure chest.

*Treasured Words are words that have special value to me. Hearing them causes brilliant light and comforting warmth to radiate from a place deep inside me and fill my soul with a sense of well-being.

Scripture quotations are from NIV.

Hebrew and Greek definitions are from Bible Hub. See Resources.

Feature photo by Marc-Olivier Jodoin on Unsplash