Scripture:
The Lord proclaims: When Babylon’s seventy years are up, I will come and fulfill my gracious promise to bring you back to this place. I know the plans I have in mind for you, declares the Lord; they are plans for peace, not disaster, to give you a future filled with hope. When you call me and come and pray to me, I will listen to you.When you search for me, yes, search for me with all your heart, you will find me.I will be present for you, declares the Lord, and I will end your captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have scattered you, and I will bring you home after your long exile, declares the Lord.
Consider:
In my Bible, this chapter of Jeremiah is entitled “disturbing hope”. Disturbing hope feels contradictory. Isn’t hope supposed to make you feel better? Doesn’t hope bring with it joy and possibility?
This idea of hope as a net positive runs up against the reality of those times where hope feels cruel instead of kind. We often mistake hope for optimism—a sunny disposition that things will naturally improve. But optimism is based on circumstances, whereas hope is based on a Promise. In the Book of Jeremiah, hope is “disturbing” because it usually arrives only after the false comforts we’ve built for ourselves have been torn down.
Hope is disturbing because it demands the death of our current “maps.” We want a hope that guarantees we won’t get hurt or lost. But biblical hope often looks you in the eye while you are standing in the middle of a disaster and says, “This is not the end, but it will be different than you planned.” It is cruel to our ego because it forces us to admit we aren’t in control. It disturbs our peace because it calls us out of the house without backup snacks or a clear destination.
If we are clinging to a hope that is merely “wishing for the best,” you are essentially huddling together for warmth while the house is on fire. Disturbing hope is the voice tells you to run into the night because there is a better inheritance waiting, to move away from the destructive fire and towards the relative safety of the outside. It is “disturbing” because it requires movement.
True hope is an active, gritty thing. It’s the “courageous act” because it often requires us to wait in the “uncertainty of the destination” while God works on our character. It doesn’t make us “feel better” by removing the storm; it makes us better by giving us the strength to walk through it.
When we stop trying to “pre-plan” our way out of suffering, hope stops being a burden and starts being a bridge. We are set free to act boldly not because the path is easy, but because the One who called us is faithful. Hope reminds us while we might lose something precious in the motion, but we will never lose the One who is leading the way.
Respond:
Does the idea of this kind of “disturbing hope” feel more like a weight or a relief to you right now?
If hope feels like a burden, sit for a moment in that tension and try to identify the root reason underneath that feeling of burden or despair.
If hope feels like relief, how can you embrace the uncertainty of the outcome which may come with this sense of freedom and release?
Pray:
Ancient God, help us to be bold when there is a path currently in front of us that looks appealing but feels "uncertain" or "unmapped". Show us the very first step we can take down that path this week, even if we don't know where it ends. Amen.
These posts will always be free, however, if you find them meaningful and would like to consider supporting our online outreach, you can donate using this link.
