A Way Called Hope

Painted storefronts proclaim joy, peace, and goodwill. Christmas cards from family and friends wish us blessings, prosperity, and good cheer. Glittering fireplace mantels seek to inspire a festive atmosphere with softly lit lettering spelling, “holy night,” “Hallelujah,” and “hope.” When these words and expressions are made seasonal it is all too easy to gloss over the enormity behind the letters. Even Christians who give these words full attention eleven months of the year find their flavor diluted in the commercialism and the busyness of the Christmas season.

And of course in the face of that commercialism and busyness, we mamas ironically find ourselves taking great pains to slow down for the sake of our sanity and our littles. One of the many things I counterintuitively add to my calendar in December in order to slow down is the women’s ministry Christmas dessert at The Bridge. At this event last week, I was particularly struck afresh by the word, “hope,” displayed in sparkling red letters with an enormous wreath standing in for the “o.”

Why hope? And how? My mind first wanders to our weary hearts already bracing for the next devastation: Refugees fleeing unspeakable atrocities only to find resentment and closed doors. The legacy of slavery and institutionalized racism wreaking havoc on yet another generation. Another mass shooting. We certainly can’t hold fast to hope by trusting in our fellow man to hold love over self-interest.

What about the daily of the Christmas season? Do you find yourself as I do, hoping for good attitudes and clothes kept clean for pictures? Hoping that I won’t cave too often in the face of too many delectable confections? Hoping that the Amazon shipments will come in time for Christmas morning and the kids won’t notice how few things are under the tree?Hoping that somehow ends will meet? Hoping that we will fit in more than the 8 Advent devotionals we managed last year? Hoping for the energy to spend and treasure time with the people we love dearly, but who often leave us drained?

This hoping in circumstances that so often go awry can’t possibly be the hope that we are summoned to celebrate at Christmas, can it?

A good family picture is often a fluke rather than a result of our good planning (or attempts at controlling). A winter snowstorm or inventory management issue could delay shipments well beyond Christmas morning. Ends don’t meet because we hope they will when we are spending money. Hoping the kids will stick around for the entire devotional is a surefire way to leave at least a few people in tears (Mama included!).

One of the readings from the women’s desert last week included this tidbit that forced my reflection on the depth and breadth of the hope we do have: “Christmas is evidence that God keeps His promises.” In the midst of our brokenness and pain, God has a plan for redemption that is moving in and around us. And that is where Christmas call us to celebrate hope.

At Christmas, we celebrate God’s extravagant, humble, and much foretold collision with the fullness of humanity through the birth of His son, Jesus Christ. Fully God and fully human. Emmanuel. God with us. Born fully man, Jesus experienced creation as we do. In the face of the very temptations we face in life (Matt 4; Luke 4), His holiness – His fully God-ness qualified His life as payment for the sins of the world over. “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Jesus our Lord.” And so, for all who fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23), our human hopelessness is met with the only hope that we can hold fast to. The only hope not dependent on our never-quite-right circumstances. The fragile baby in the feeding trough who would make a way for us to be reconciled forever with our God. A way in a manger. A way called hope.

Heather Fenton is a Christ-follower, devoted wife, and mama to four littles who give her plenty to write about, but little time to sit down and write.