Audacious Hope
Hope may be the biggest form of rebellion we will ever be a part of.
Yesterday, our choir gathered at a fellow member’s house to sing a few verses of familiar hymns (from more than 6 feet apart with masks!). This member had received a double dose of hard news this past week and it was just a small way to share that we cared.
As we sang the lines to “It Is Well with My Soul,” it struck me how audacious it is to sing those lyrics when your soul is grieving. And yet, audacious hope in dire circumstances is the heart of the song. If you’re not familiar, this hymn was written by Horatio Spafford after he experienced financial ruin and the loss of his five children in two tragic events. (You can read the story and find lyrics here.)
In a sense, singing it is well with my soul is a form of protest and rebellion. Similarly the classic lyrics of “What a Wonderful World” were a juxtaposition to what was really happening in the world when it was written in 1967. The picture of Louis Armstrong singing about blue skies and human compassion as the nation was confronted with the Cold War, the aftermath of the Kennedy assassination, a fight for Civil Rights, and the Vietnam War is truly jarring. The lyrics courageously cling to goodness and peace in the face of immense anguish and uncertainty. AND they boast expectant hope that our world, our circumstances, and our pain will not always be this way.
The true rebellion comes when we realize that although we feel stuck within the conditions we find ourselves, our purpose and mission and work does not stop.
One of the most famous and powerful examples of this that I can think of is when Rev. Dr Martian Luther King Jr was in jail. Although there were both literal and societal bars surrounding him, he had a deep sense of urgency with his message and knew they could not imprison his voice. Thus we have one of his most powerful works, the Letter from the Birmingham Jail. A work still applicable to overlooking the racial suppression in our country. Which, in itself even speaks to the need for rebellion in the face of injustice.
As King writes:
I submit that an individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust, and who willingly accepts the penalty of imprisonment in order to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the highest respect for law. Of course, there is nothing new about this kind of civil disobedience. It was evidenced sublimely in the refusal of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego to obey the laws of Nebuchadnezzar, on the ground that a higher moral law was at stake. It was practiced superbly by the early Christians, who were willing to face hungry lions and the excruciating pain of chopping blocks rather than submit to certain unjust laws of the Roman Empire. To a degree, academic freedom is a reality today because Socrates practiced civil disobedience. In our own nation, the Boston Tea Party represented a massive act of civil disobedience.
(Of course, Dr. King is speaking here of our conscious leading us to break unjust laws to push for societal change and equal rights. I do not want to diminish his words or the importance of just laws that afford human rights to all, we simply don’t have time to go there today.)
Yet, learning from this example, King shows us, regardless of circumstance, our work does not stop because our conscious does not stop. Our purpose does not stop. When the world is in fact not wonderful, the efforts we make towards a better world do not stop. In fact, I would argue when something isn’t well with our soul—that’s when the real work begins.
We are seeing this with our nation now. In the simplest ways like wanting to be near to those who are suffering by singing on their lawn, to dropping off pizza to health care workers, to raising funds beyond the government’s stipend for those without work, food, childcare, insurance—the list goes on.
It doesn’t negate that suffering also comes with pointing fingers and heightened emotions and misuse of resources and abuses of power—that list goes on, too.
And yet, that’s what makes hope so audacious in the first place. It courageously pushes past all that shit and clings expectantly to peace, abundance, goodness, and love. To green trees and white clouds and people who are willing to smile in spite of it all.
So what does any of this have to do with you? Us? Life coaching?
To put it simply: we don’t know in which direction to look for hope if we don’t know who we are, what we are for, and what our purpose is.
So we have to ask ourselves those questions and find our compass.
We need to come to terms with the things that entangle us—outside and in.
And get clear on the things that do not set right with us, that stir up our conscious.
Then, understand that how we spend our days and the daily decisions we make can have a purpose.
Furthermore, our good efforts are not as powerful if we don’t come face to face with our privilege (be it race, education, wealth, citizenship, etc), and own our role in the suffering of others.
All of that takes intentionality and self assessment.
It means asking the hard questions and sitting with our answers.
It most likely means truly listening to the stories of those who are suffering.
And shutting up so their voices can be heard over the din of the world.
From there, it’s not naivety drawing us towards a false understanding of hope, it is courage and strength and intention.
