Never
take your word of truth from my mouth, for I have put my hope in
your laws.
—Psalm
119:43
My friend’s mom once told me the
story of waiting for her son to return home from the Gulf War. He had enlisted
in the army during a time of peace in our nation, and he was a good-hearted guy
who had no thought of being involved in actual battle. He simply had dreams of
developing some discipline and funding his college education.
Then Desert Storm happened, and
suddenly he was being shipped to the Middle East, weapon in hand. After being
stationed overseas for several months, he was told he’d be able to go home. His
mother was beside herself with relief and joy. He’d be home for Christmas! But
the week before Christmas, she got a call. His return date had been
postponed—he wouldn’t be home in time after all. “No problem,” she told him
bravely. “We’ll just wait to celebrate until you get home.”
But around New Year’s, another
call came. There had been another delay. He and his unit were needed in Kuwait
for several more weeks. Back home, the radio stations stopped playing Christmas
songs, and the neighbors took down the lights. But still his mother waited,
holding on to the hope that her son would come home to Christmas, even if it
was delayed.
After more weeks of waiting, her
husband told her gently, “Honey, the needles are all falling off the tree. I
think it’s time to take it down.” But she was insistent. Her boy would come
home to Christmas. In some way that tree had become a symbol of the hope she
clung to that her son would return to her—safe and whole and soon.
January turned to February, and
still their son was some seven thousand miles away. With each passing day, more
needles fell off the tree and the brittle branches became even more of a fire
hazard. One evening as she was heading up to bed, the mom glanced at the tree
in the shadows. Now that the tree had lost so many of its needles, she was able
to see the outline of the branches underneath. Her hand flew to her mouth when
she realized its shape: it looked just like a cross.
Underneath all the brittle hopes
that fell lifeless to the ground stood something solid and secure. There was a
deeper hope she could cling to that couldn’t be shaken by any military delays,
human plans, or even enemy attacks. Her hope was ultimately in a faithful God.
She could say with the psalmist, “My
soul faints with longing for your salvation,
but I have put my hope in
your word” (Psalm 119:81).
It’s a good thing to have hope in
this life—in fact, it’s part of the way God has wired us. He encourages us to
wait and hope and pray for good gifts from him—for a broken relationship to be
mended, for a son or daughter to come home, for a long-desired baby, for true
love, for healing. But after waiting for that thing for so long, our hope can
become brittle and frail, like two-month-old pine needles. They fall to the
ground, and we wonder if there’s any point to hoping anymore.
But underneath these hopes is the
cross. Regardless of whether our hopes for this life come to pass or not,
underneath it all is the security of the salvation Christ offers. That doesn’t
mean we stop hoping and waiting and praying for those other things that weigh
on our hearts, but we have the assurance that the source of our hope is
unshakable. As Psalm 25:5 says, “You
are the God who saves me. All day long I put my hope in you.”
When our hopes seem to be falling
down all around us, may we see the cross underneath and remember that God and
his Word are our only hope.
What are you hoping for right now? Take a moment to bring that hope
before God, and then thank him for being your ultimate hope, whether or not
those smaller hopes ever come to pass.
—Stephanie Rische
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