The God of Hope
While campaigning for the presidency of the United States in 2008, Barack Obama offered a new vision for America: he promised that he would usher in a new era of hope and change. Donald Trump, not to be outdone, cast a newer version of hope and change when he vowed to “Make America Great Again.” Not to be outdone, Joe Biden won on his pledge to “Build Back Better.”
Our founders’ vision for a hopeful America was indeed a hopeful one, but it was different from what today’s politicians offer. It was rooted in something more concrete than just a fuzzy feeling that America could be a great country by simply branding and marketing “hope”—as if it were a new Coke product or something.
For one thing (and this is the most important thing), it was grounded in the assumption that God is real. It assumed that “nature’s God” was almighty and all-knowing. Like it or not, the language of the Declaration of Independence assigned value to every human being based on one single fact: “All men are created equal, and are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights…”
Did you get that? Created “equal and endowed by their Creator? When’s the last time you heard a politician make his entire appeal to the voters based on this? Have you ever heard one of them say, “I can’t do anything to make things better in America, but I know who can restore hope—God Almighty can?”
I have never once heard a politician say anything other than some version of, “Vote for me, and I will set you free!” But think about it, have you ever seen one of them deliver on their promise to restore hope in our hearts?
The short answer is, no! They have not. And since, in the entire history of mankind no man has ever been able to do this, why do we keep falling prey to their empty promises? Everything we are promised, from social justice to economic prosperity always fall short. And even if we make progress in one area, another area of human failure rears its ugly head. Someone always gets left out. Someone always winds up being hopeless.
We shouldn’t be too hard on them, however. Restoring hope is way above their pay grade. It’s way above mine and yours, too. I might help you find a job or a new house, or I might be able to give you a meal, but I am utterly incapable of meeting your greatest needs.
You may be wondering what in the world I’m talking about. After all, what is our greatest need?
If I understand the Bible correctly, my greatest need isn’t economic prosperity. I do enjoy living in the land of plenty. I truly do. I am fully aware of the fact that I have lived a long life of luxury. And I’m certainly not saying that we would be better off if we were to experience the same kind of economic catastrophe our grandparents did during the Great Depression.
But if my hope lies in that, in prosperity, what happens when the economy does collapse? How do I live when I am forced to stand in bread lines or compelled to get my next meal from a soup kitchen? Or, on another note, let’s say that my doctor calls me into his office and delivers the horrible news that I have a terminal illness and only have months to live? What then? Does bad news devour my hope?
The truth is that my greatest need doesn’t have anything to do with any of that. Neither health, nor prosperity, nor anything else on this planet will give me hope, because I wasn’t created to find joy by consuming the things of this world. My greatest need is that I have an appointment with the grave and that there is no way I can avoid it.
How can I get out of here alive? That’s what I want to know. If I can know that, I can live in the here and now with hope. I can even be joyful in the midst of extreme hardship.
So, we ask, “What’s the secret? How can I be filled with a hope—a confident expectation—that everything is going to be okay in spite of what is going on around me?”
David was a man acquainted with grief and sorrow—disappointment with the here and now. Still, he was not hopeless. In fact, his prayers usually centered on two things: The world is hostile and will disappoint us, and God is bigger than the world. For example, he began Psalm 33 by first extolling the majesty and power of God:
The Lord merely spoke,
and the heavens were created.
He breathed the word,
and all the stars were born.
Real hope—confident and expectant hope—can only flow out of our confidence that God is who he says he is. An eternal, infinite, all-powerful, sovereign God is the only one capable of managing our futures. A God like that is the only one we could trust to turn our pain and disappointment into a testimony that points to something and someone greater than ourselves or our circumstances. This kind of hope transcends circumstances, no matter how dire they may be.
This confidence in the sovereignty and love of God is why David was able to say later on in this psalm:
But the Lord watches over those who fear him,
those who rely on his unfailing love.
He rescues them from death
and keeps them alive in times of famine.
We put our hope in the Lord.
He is our help and our shield.
In him our hearts rejoice,
for we trust in his holy name.
Let your unfailing love surround us, Lord,
for our hope is in you alone.
It’s true that the world is in a dark place right now. The truth is that it’s always been dark, but it seems darker somehow at the present time. However, God did not call the church to wring its hands when the culture goes dark. Instead, it’s during the darkest days that we are called to speak His name the loudest. When all seems hopeless, we help others divert their gaze to the God above all gods—the one who spoke, and things began to exist out of nothing.
Somehow, we must convince the hopeless that this God is a god of mercy and grace, that His love for them is so profound that he bore the penalty for our sin. And finally, they must be convinced that since He did this for them, He will be faithful to His promise to restore hope to their broken hearts—real, confident, expectant hope—a hope that does not ever disappoint.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (Romans 15:13).
Gordon Dasher is a former elder at White’s Ferry Road Church and currently lives in Black Mountain, North Carolina. Gordon has recently completed collaborating with Phil Robertson on his next book, “Uncanceled.”
“Uncanceled” is a blueprint for standing up for the truth of Jesus Christ in a culture that has forgotten how to have respectful conversations. As Phil reminds us, when we embrace the truth that Jesus Christ already paid an enormous debt to cancel our sins, we find a path to redemption, a way to forgiveness, and a means for Godly connection. Look for “the release of Uncanceled” in early 2022.