My apartment window faces a huge mountain filled with trees, which show their beauty every season of the year. However, I observe a definite unique kind of beauty in these woods during the winter months. The deciduous trees are bare—their beautiful leaves have fallen and have become part of the earth. Getting a closer look, I can see each branch replete with tiny buds resting until they are called forth to blossom in the spring. There is hope not only in the trees but also in the rocks that protect them. Yes, the trees and rocks protect each other, so that new life can be born in the spring: they are pregnant with hope. What an encouraging omen for us in this winter of Advent!
Isaiah is a prophet of hope and of strength. Like seeing the tiny buds of life at the edges of the supposedly barren winter trees, he reminds us that God gives strength to the faint of heart and renews our spiritual energy. Hope is not a feeling—it is the belief, the trust that our God loves each of us unconditionally. Hope undergirds us when we feel lethargic and despairing at the continual destruction of human lives and our natural environment.
Yes, we will have difficulties in our daily lives. We can become so discouraged with family disputes, economic problems, and continual news of people hurting. Yet, Jesus offers us support and assistance in coping with our problems. In today’s gospel, Jesus invites us to sit with him, go within our hearts to plumb the depths of the peace and hope already given to us. Let’s pull out these virtues. Reflect on what they mean to us. Then, with our God, pursue those opportunities where we can be a source of both peace and hope to all we meet within a day.
When learned hopelessness hurts, moving away from it
doesn’t have to be complicated.
Choose one simple step you can take to step into the river of hope.
Practice that every day until it becomes second nature,
and then add another step.
Easier said than done, but ask God to help you
embrace the hope that he wants to give you.