Approaching Christmas with Hope - Day 5Scot Bower - 3 Dec 2010
I had hoped
Shoulders hunched against the early morning cold I left the city gate and shuffled unspeaking along the road to Emmaus. The sun would soon rise and the heat I knew would soon warm my body. Yet there was no heat that could warm my heart.
Despite the stories, despite the obvious hateful events of the last week, I had hoped.
It was easy to hope when he was around. You just had to look into his eyes and you’d feel that it was all possible. Truth, that’s what you saw in his eyes. And his voice, did it really calm the storm? Even now I’m beginning to doubt my mind, but yes, his words comforted and encouraged even on the coldest of nights. But now? I had hoped and now it was all gone, the man I trusted, loved and believed, gone.
And now? The long walk home. Watching the events of the last year play behind my unfocussed eyes, imagining again his voice speaking my name and reminding me how the world should be. Truth coming again. But no. I shake my head to rid myself of the vision. He is gone. Humiliated. Hung on a cross. The air crushed from his lungs and with that last breath did he really speak forgiveness? And now dead what power could there have been in those wasted words?
The sun has cracked on the horizon and the brightness forces my eyes down towards the ground, the red dust occupies my view as I trudge on, towards that dawn light.
Now who is this who sits beside the road? Who scratches a picture in the dust at his feet? His smile of welcome offends my self-pity. Doesn’t he know? Surely the news has made it this far? Fools like me are leaving the city and heading home, fleeing ridicule and worse.
Yet there’s something in the way his stick draws across the sand that captivates me and when he asks to join me for as far as I will travel I reply with a curt nod and he falls in step effortlessly beside. There’s something in his eyes, the way he carries himself, without the weight I feel today, something about his tone that has me pouring out my pain. “I had hoped.” I mutter, then with more force I raise my voice “Do you know what it’s like to have hope? Do you? Let me tell you what hope is: Hope is standing in the darkest hours, facing the horizon and expecting the sun to rise. Without hope? When that hope is ripped from you, you stand in the night and know in the depths of your soul the sun will never again shine, it will always be cold, always dark. That’s what I mean when I say ‘I had hoped’”. “Ah” the man who drew in the dust said. With a deep knowing breath that was more than I sigh, a knowing, caring ‘ah’ “Have you heard…” and together we walked the long road to Eramaus. And he brought me hope.
Lord Jesus, thank you for meeting me on my road to Eramaus. Those times when I lost hope and didn’t think I would ever see the light or feel the warmth of dawn again. Thank you for walking with me. Thank you that even when my faithless prayer is little more than a plea for you to be with me in my hopelessness and pain you remain my hope.
As we wait for Christmas, the celebration, the feast and the wonder of an incarnate God 24-7 Prayer will be posting a series of reflections to help us to wait well. We have asked friends from across the movement and around the world to creatively express themselves and focus us on the coming of Christ. This first week of advent uncovers Hope, and urges us to have hope, share hope and be hopeful as we approach Christmas together. Follow along with the 24-7 Prayer 'Approaching Advent' Calendar.