Robert Kolb (PhD, University of Wisconsin) is mission professor of systematic theology emeritus at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis. He is the author or coauthor of numerous books and articles.
“Hope” is not always a very hope-filled word.
“I hope” has come to express anticipation of no more than a less than likely outcome for our dreams and plans. “I hope” often attempts to accomplish no more than hanging onto a little bit of fading light in the black hole of a future filled with darkness. “I hope” is what we say when we cannot say “I am confident,” “I am sure.” That is quite the opposite of the words “I hope” when said by biblical writers and those who echo them into our own day. Biblical hope fills the black hole of the future with the person of Jesus Christ. Christ glows in the dark. As the evangelist John wrote of Jesus, “the true light that enlightens every person was coming into the world …to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave the power to become children of God …” (John 1:9-13).
Living in a sin-broken world, we struggle to find paths through the deserts of darkness and silence that beset us. The trek through life often traverses long stretches of bitterly cold winter, where daylight is scarce and dark comes early and often. “What I Found” is a pilgrim’s song, sung in reflection on what was found in the past and what is to be found in the future. What we find, we confess, is the person of our God. In fact, the Good Shepherd finds us.
“What I Found” is a pilgrim’s song, sung in reflection on what was found in the past and what is to be found in the future. What we find, we confess, is the person of our God. In fact, the Good Shepherd finds us.”
God is faithful. Paul reminded Timothy that those who die with God will live with him; those who endure with him will reign with him. Then he goes on to assert that our denying him provokes him to deny us. But immediately Paul lays down God’s description of himself at his core. “If we are faithless, he remains faithful.” How can that be? “because he cannot deny himself” (2 Tim. 2:11-13). He is who he is, the voice from the burning bush claimed (Exod. 3:14), and Paul fills in the “is”: faithful. Our Creator sticks with us even when we wander. The anxious heavenly Father who scans the horizon for those prodigal children of his (Luke 15:11-32) sent his eldest, only-begotten Son out as a shepherd to seek and rescue those children of his, who wander or run away from his household (John 10:11,14, Luke 19:10).
We often experience times when God not only seems not to be present in our lives; he seems to be disinterested. In times past, many had experienced the anger of parents and depicted their Creator as an angry judge. Today, many have experienced the neglect and indifference of parents and simply wonder where God is when we need him. Life is not only dark; there is no sound of interest or sympathy from him or from any other direction that takes our challenges seriously. We neither see nor hear a sign that Jesus is “Immanuel,” God with us. In anger, in despair and doubt, in bewildered questioning we shout to God. We whine, grumble, moan, and wonder if God will ever be back from his vacation. Deserts, heart aches, long nights and lost dreams create a void out of what seems to be the nothingness of our own future, our own worth, our own meaning for life.
Sometimes our confidence in this person who made us—who died and rose to remake us, as people of his family—thinks it knows the answers to the problems that face us. Then in the night we are not so sure and grope for something solid in the mystery of the way he operates. We ask and do not hear an answer, but because we are engaging the person of our Lord, we are confident that there is one, that he is answering us. He does not seem to be speaking, but his lovingkindness radiates into our lives. We know that he does not slumber or sleep and that he is staying the lonely night watch with us, sometimes day after day.
Some days we recognize that, as Erin Bode sings, “we are running out of time.” Some days we feel the walls closing in on us as ever less space for plans and dreams is available. We may be resting in the assurance that he will show up but still must cry out, “when, Lord?” Waiting for healing—of physical ailments, mental confusion, poverty of spirit—makes us seek and try ways to defend ourselves, and defensiveness expresses itself often in anger. But Jesus is patience in the flesh—and blood—and he is also peace personified. Even when it seems as if he shows up too late, we find that he has come at the right time. As we face storms from the outside and anger wells up within us, Jesus appears out of nowhere. He leads us through the waves and wind to the safety of his boat. He calms the fears that gave birth to our defensive anger. He leads us to confidence in his protection and his care.
Jesus comes to us as a promise. Promises offer no proof. They offer a person. We can master a proof and reckon through a mathematical formula. The promise masters us. It takes command of the heart of our thinking, our trust. Therefore, in the midst of deserts and heartaches, long nights and lost dreams, we do not lose true hope, for the object of our hope is the Lord who comes from cross and empty tomb. He comes to share our temptations to give up hope. He remains faithful even when our faithfulness wavers and fails. What I have found is that he has found me and will hang onto me forever.
Eastern European friends once asked me to lead a study of “hope” because under the Soviet system they had been encouraged to hope for the coming workers' paradise, and paradise became ever more distant as the years of occupation wore on. We found that the word “hope” in some translations appeared as “trust” in other translations. Hoping for future presence and blessing arises from and expresses the trust we have in God, who has been faithful to us through long nights and in the midst of lost dreams. He remains faithful to us because, as Paul says, he cannot deny himself. He cannot deny who he is. He is faithfulness embodied, personified. He is Jahweh, that is, who he is.