We must accept finite disappointment, but we must never lose infinite hope.
-- The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

There’s a lot of talk these days about hope; it’s the new buzz word for some. Of course most of us have been hoping all of our lives – hoping the to make ends meet, or better yet, get rich; hoping we’d be and stay well; hoping to meet the man or woman of our dreams; hoping our children will have more to their names than we do. If you think about it, we live our lives on hope, getting up each morning on the optimism of hope.

But is there a time when hope dies, when it’s no longer alive? Is there a time when we’ve given in and given up on hope, no longer holding out hope that things will change or a better day will come? Are there days when we’ve only regarded hope as a four-letter word and one in which we’d be foolish to bank? Has there been a time for you when hope was defeated and unrecoverable?

If there was that time you let go of hope and you believed nothing about its possibilities, certainly you felt hollow, raw, and done. Certainly the world around you lost its color, faded to grey, and what was once bright became like a 1950’s black and white Polaroid. When you lost hope, simply set it down to flicker out for the obvious, the easy, and the right now, you felt your narrow box become just that – a box, nothing more, nothing less, just a nondescript cell of dullness, mediocrity, and predictability. Hope was gone, and all you had was where you were.

It’s not easy to give up hope. There’s something that runs through our blood that keeps hope from fading. Perhaps God placed it there and it was triggered and motivated by our foreparents who unconsciously rouse us to keep its embers burning.

What if your grandmother had given up hope, if she’d stopped praying and persevering for things to change, to be different and better even in the face of the impractical? Would her life, your parents life and your life have moved forward? Her hope was not limited by moments and periods of struggle and uncertainty; her hope was not in vain; and her hope had the punch of a world champion boxer. It must have because you’re here.

To give up hoping is to stop breathing. To no longer wish for or believe in possibilities and opportunities is like water hitting the dam wall. It stops and goes backwards, mixing with other water and becoming backwash. Without hope, there’s no movement, no newness or air or life. All you have is stagnation surrounded by dust and whatever else is left when dreams and desire fade away.

Thank God hope is alive, and even though recent politics has made it a household word, or at least a word you can say outside the home and not be looked upon as a fantasist, we know. We know hope’s been around, gone, and come back several times. We know how to hope and dream and believe. We know how to hope even when the outcome seems unrealistic. For hope is what we do, hope is who we are, and hope will keep us moving toward what is good and right. Hope is what keeps us alive and living.

Sadiqqa © 2008