
Life brings its share of losses—some expected, others blindsiding. But when hope fades, everything else can unravel. Without hope, even the strongest faith can feel as stagnant as swamp water.
During difficult seasons, hope is the energy source that fuels perseverance and ignites determination. Theologian Emil Brunner captured this truth well: “What oxygen is to the lungs, such is hope to the meaning of life.” Without it, we suffocate in despair.
Micah, a prophet called to speak during one of Israel’s darkest times, refused to let despair take hold. Surrounded by corruption, injustice, and looming disaster, Micah declared:
“But as for me, I watch in hope for the LORD, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me.” (Micah 7:7)
More than 2,500 years later, our hope in Christ remains our most reliable source for spiritual strength and courage. No matter how uncertain the circumstances, we work for positive change, we advocate for the underserved and underprivileged, and we lean into the promise that “with God all things are possible.” (Matthew 19:26)
Hope Is Not Naive
We live in an era saturated with gloom and pessimism. Division and discontent dominate the national conversation. And perhaps most troubling, this sense of despair has seeped into the church—a place meant to be a beacon of hope.
If the church, called to be the light of the world and the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13), surrenders to hopelessness, we risk rushing toward an apocalyptic future of our own making.
But real hope—the kind we see in Micah—is neither blind nor naive. It does not ignore reality. Instead, true hope compels us to rise above despair, face challenges with faith, and respond with wisdom and action.
The Arrogance of Despair
Years ago, pastor John Claypool had a sobering conversation with an elderly rabbi, a friend and fellow advocate in the civil rights movement. After a particularly frustrating meeting, Claypool sighed, “I think it’s hopeless. The problem is too deep, too complex. There’s simply no way out.”
The rabbi paused and then said something profound:
“Humanly speaking, despair is presumptuous. It assumes we know the future, but we don’t. Think of the times you thought something was hopeless, only to be surprised when unseen forces shifted everything. If God can create something out of nothing, if He can bring life from death, who are we to place limits on what He can do?”
That wisdom still speaks today. We do not have the luxury of declaring a situation hopeless because we are not the authors of the story.
The Rekindling of Hope
In the movie Hope Floats, the main character, Birdee Pruitt, describes hope this way:
“Beginnings are scary. Endings are usually sad. But it’s the middle that counts the most. Just give hope a chance to float up.”
Even when you think you’ve lost it, hope can emerge after a season of dormancy. Like stirring warm embers to rekindle a fire, real hope can be revived. It is nurtured when we commit to “act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God” (Micah 6:8)—even when the path is difficult, even when we can’t yet see the way forward.
Hope is not an emotion. It’s a decision. And when we choose hope, we align ourselves with the God who makes the impossible possible.
(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who currently serves as a leadership coach and consultant with the Center for Healthy Churches.)






