I’m not always hopeful. Sometimes I’m downright discouraged and angry, wanting once again to just peace out and leave the crazies behind. Sometimes the idea of starting a commune somewhere sounds pretty good. (We could make our own soap!) But I can’t quite walk away, I can’t bring myself to abandon hope.
Hope is subversive.
Hope isn’t withdrawal or blind ignorance, it’s not burying our head in the sand and singing about Gospel ships coming to take us away nor is it pretending that it’s fine, we’re fine, everything’s fine.
Many things in our world are not fine. Hope dares to admit that.
Walter Brueggeman wrote so beautifully in the Prophetic Imagination that real hope only comes after despair. Only if we have tasted despair, only if we have known the deep sadness of unfulfilled dreams and promises, only if we can dare to look reality in the face and name it for what it is, can we dare to begin to imagine a better way.
Hope is subversive precisely because it dares to admit that all is not as it should be.