Recently, I attended a pastoral care conference at St. Mary’s Hospital. It was well worth my time as I spent the day learning about the very real potential and possibilities “hope” offers to us, especially when life is difficult, painful, or challenged. I heard some amazing stories of how life was challenged by disease, a complicated pregnancy, and the untimely death of newborns and how the very people who shared these stories, were able to navigate through those moments holding out hope. Yet, as I heard and maybe as you have experienced, hope does not always come when we most need it. It does not always come so easily for some as it might for others. Hope at times, seems like the last offering of comfort ever possible when someone is entrenched in the despair of the situation. But, as I have experienced, and what I heard again and again from people who have lived through these traumatic experiences, is that hope is a choice. It is not something that is out of reach, or something to be earned, or removed from the human will at all. To live with hope, is to make the choice, choosing to believe that life will improve whether the evidence proves it will or not.
Dr. Jerome Groopman wrote a book titled, The Anatomy of Hope: How People Prevail In The Face of Illness. A fascinating book, Groopman attempts to provide insight into the power, or perceived power, of making choices for oneself, even choosing to avoid medical treatment within the context of potential despair and grim medical consequences. Rather, he attempts to articulate what it means for people to celebrate the healing power of hope despite the overwhelming odds against them to do so. He says, “To hope under the most extreme circumstances is an act of defiance that permits a person to live his/her life on his/her terms.” An act of defiance! It’s been my experience that people feel powerless when their lives are traumatized medically or psychologically. People feel as if all strength within them escapes, they become overwhelmed unable to pan the lens back and see the wide angle of their circumstance. They feel disempowered to make constructive and motivational decisions because all they see is the problem, the issue, the event. While counseling people, I see this played out over and over again as if there is a paralyzing default that exists. Not everyone is like this. There are those who are reactionary and become pro-active, thinking through the situation for options and possibilities. Conversely, there are those for whom they live in the trauma; the blinders prevent them from seeing any way out of their emotional and spiritual despair. The default exists from person to person, circumstance to circumstance. And yet, what I find most disarming with each person is the ability to articulate hope, sometimes for them, sometimes with them.
But this articulated hope is not just any random bit and piece of pop-psychology. No, this hope is something else. This hope is grounded in the incarnated God, who is not removed from pain, or trauma. The walking God is grounded with us, feeling what we feel. His body shares the burdens of life together for each other’s sake of life, because as Christ taught each of us, each person’s life matters and matters to God. What this says about God, is that God is not beyond our reach, or seated somewhere else to watch us as a passive observer. Let’s not forget: God knows a thing or two about experiencing the trauma of losing His son. He knows what it feels like when life becomes darkened by the unexpected. He knows what life feels like when there is no other choice but to believe hope is possible out of death, out of disease, out of abuse, out of addiction, or out of shame. And as God, you cannot know these things unless you are with your people on the ground where life is lived out.
This is the hope that grounds me, and this is the hope that I hold out for people who feel life is hopeless, when life nosedives, when life is challenged by the unexpected. This is the incarnate hope which gives us life, when we feel as if we are left for dead. This incarnate hope of Jesus Christ, the walking God among us, is defiant in a world where the easy thing to do is just give up and be swallowed up by suffering. Yet Jesus comes alongside of us in whatever state of mind we are in, sits with us, listens to us, and reminds that life is full of hope when God is present. Hope is a choice to believe that the presence of God is an act of defiance to be present in the darkest of hells we visit. Hope is knowing that Jesus lives outside the tomb from where death is defeated, so that we too can be resurrected from our own tombs. Tombs do not define us. Outside our tombs, hope is where we live, full of choices and possibilities so that life is defined by what we make of it. It is worth it as it is beautiful. It is beautiful as it is a gift. May you choose to be defiant against the odds. Peace be with you.
Dr. Jerome Groopman wrote a book titled, The Anatomy of Hope: How People Prevail In The Face of Illness. A fascinating book, Groopman attempts to provide insight into the power, or perceived power, of making choices for oneself, even choosing to avoid medical treatment within the context of potential despair and grim medical consequences. Rather, he attempts to articulate what it means for people to celebrate the healing power of hope despite the overwhelming odds against them to do so. He says, “To hope under the most extreme circumstances is an act of defiance that permits a person to live his/her life on his/her terms.” An act of defiance! It’s been my experience that people feel powerless when their lives are traumatized medically or psychologically. People feel as if all strength within them escapes, they become overwhelmed unable to pan the lens back and see the wide angle of their circumstance. They feel disempowered to make constructive and motivational decisions because all they see is the problem, the issue, the event. While counseling people, I see this played out over and over again as if there is a paralyzing default that exists. Not everyone is like this. There are those who are reactionary and become pro-active, thinking through the situation for options and possibilities. Conversely, there are those for whom they live in the trauma; the blinders prevent them from seeing any way out of their emotional and spiritual despair. The default exists from person to person, circumstance to circumstance. And yet, what I find most disarming with each person is the ability to articulate hope, sometimes for them, sometimes with them.
But this articulated hope is not just any random bit and piece of pop-psychology. No, this hope is something else. This hope is grounded in the incarnated God, who is not removed from pain, or trauma. The walking God is grounded with us, feeling what we feel. His body shares the burdens of life together for each other’s sake of life, because as Christ taught each of us, each person’s life matters and matters to God. What this says about God, is that God is not beyond our reach, or seated somewhere else to watch us as a passive observer. Let’s not forget: God knows a thing or two about experiencing the trauma of losing His son. He knows what it feels like when life becomes darkened by the unexpected. He knows what life feels like when there is no other choice but to believe hope is possible out of death, out of disease, out of abuse, out of addiction, or out of shame. And as God, you cannot know these things unless you are with your people on the ground where life is lived out.
This is the hope that grounds me, and this is the hope that I hold out for people who feel life is hopeless, when life nosedives, when life is challenged by the unexpected. This is the incarnate hope which gives us life, when we feel as if we are left for dead. This incarnate hope of Jesus Christ, the walking God among us, is defiant in a world where the easy thing to do is just give up and be swallowed up by suffering. Yet Jesus comes alongside of us in whatever state of mind we are in, sits with us, listens to us, and reminds that life is full of hope when God is present. Hope is a choice to believe that the presence of God is an act of defiance to be present in the darkest of hells we visit. Hope is knowing that Jesus lives outside the tomb from where death is defeated, so that we too can be resurrected from our own tombs. Tombs do not define us. Outside our tombs, hope is where we live, full of choices and possibilities so that life is defined by what we make of it. It is worth it as it is beautiful. It is beautiful as it is a gift. May you choose to be defiant against the odds. Peace be with you.
