For in hope we were saved.
Now hope that sees for itself is not hope.
For who hopes for what one sees?
But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance.
Hope addresses the future. Love lives in the present moment and faith concerns the past. A healthy human being practices all three.
We do not forget our past, neither my own personal experience nor our history as a family, religion, or nation. Knowing where we have come from and the courage that has brought us to this point, we keep faith with that trajectory. When we gather -- whoever "we" might be -- we remember our past as we invoke that spirit. Traditional songs, gestures, foods, and other customs remind us of who we are and where we have been. We tell stories, we laugh at old jokes, we might recall the hardships. "Spirit" gives us the willingness to practice that faith. That spirit may be the spirit of a church, a people, or a nation.
Love celebrates and cherishes our bonds, strengthening them with new sacrifices, healing them where apologies are required or misunderstandings have damaged our relationships. Love recognizes and honors the moment, with its pleasures, privileges and privations. Love says, "Here I am," and "Here we are." It receives the presence of others in the present moment.
Hope addresses the future even as it recalls ancient promises. Without hope there is little incentive to gather in the present moment. Without hope, the past with its memory of sacrifices and challenges overcome is futile. It came to nothing. Hope remembers the promises that inspired our courage and anticipates more heroic sacrifices.
Saint Paul, writing his letter to the Romans, reminded them that "that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us." He spoke of a Spirit which not only gave him courage but animated all creation. He saw living creatures of every kind waiting "with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God." He knew that "creation itself (will) be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God."
He was sure of this future because he felt it within himself and within his Christian companions. "as we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies."
Saint Paul had experienced much that would discourage an uninspired person, and he didn't mind reminding his readers about that when the occasion called for it. He gives a detailed list of his travails in 2 Corinthians: 11. But the point was not "Look how I have suffered!" It was look how my Spirit and your Spirit has never been discouraged by these daunting challenges.
Despite it all he had such joy in the present and such confidence for the future.
His vision for the future is none too clear. No one can say exactly what will happen. No prophet can read the future as if it had passed. But he was sure his joy was the joy of the Resurrected Christ; and you will know it, as will all creation. Because we cannot see it clearly we wait with endurance.
Those who had seen the Risen Lord spoke not so much of his appearances as of his disappearances. He came to them but he went away again. They could not hold or cling to him. Ever obedient, he could not stay. That would not be for their benefit. Only with his intensely felt absence could they know the presence of the Spirit within them.
The apparitions were promises of things to come, of their own resurrected bodies, of the "glorious freedom of the children of God."
Many centuries later, as each morning brings new unexpectedness, we wonder where this is all going. Is our only hope a return to past greatness, MAGA? It sounds desperate to many, and pointless to others. The past was never that great.
Our faith recalls the promises of God: "And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”
So long as our God is with us, so long as God's Spirit stirs us to sacrificial acts of generosity, we do not fear the future.
Those who had seen the Risen Lord spoke not so much of his appearances as of his disappearances. He came to them but he went away again. They could not hold or cling to him. Ever obedient, he could not stay. That would not be for their benefit. Only with his intensely felt absence could they know the presence of the Spirit within them.
The apparitions were promises of things to come, of their own resurrected bodies, of the "glorious freedom of the children of God."
Many centuries later, as each morning brings new unexpectedness, we wonder where this is all going. Is our only hope a return to past greatness, MAGA? It sounds desperate to many, and pointless to others. The past was never that great.
Our faith recalls the promises of God: "And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”
So long as our God is with us, so long as God's Spirit stirs us to sacrificial acts of generosity, we do not fear the future.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.