Are We On the Inside or Outside of Hope?

Advent’s exiles rarely sit in chairs at churches, or enter meaningful conversations with people wearing “What Would Jesus Do” bracelets. Advent’s exiles gather in homes to watch football, laugh at themselves, make cookies for neighbors, often speak English and another language, watch political news because it’s personal. Mostly, Advent’s exiles work hard, put their noses to the grind to make ends meet, and find time for family.

Yesterday, someone asked me, “Why do you write? Will it really make any difference?”

I feel the thick pit in my stomach grow – it’s like a gut-punch I have to articulate, on paper (of course).

While I am perched at my favorite coffee and chocolate shop, in the middle of the gray Northwest winter, sipping black coffee, I ask myself, does it make any difference? I don’t want cream or sugar. Today, I choose to drink coffee, black. The cream and sugar are a betrayal of the bitterness and goodness of life, or maybe feel like another mask I must wear.

The question, “Will it really make any difference?” is probably annoying because I fight despair inside myself as I write about justice, faith, social issues, complex trauma, and sex trafficking. And, when I write about what’s under the surface, I am further exiled.

Whether the conversations are about race or complex trauma, it’s simply, “the impossible,” in most circles I participate. At Christmas time, people are “tired” and want to feel “hopeful”. I do, too. My family does, too. My clients want hope, too.

Various direct service providers offer me advice such as, “Don’t meet with X client – they could accuse you, maybe sue you, “or, “This client will not listen to anything” or, “Be careful, Danielle. Don’t get too hopeful from week to week.” Thinking back on most of these conversations, I don’t remember asking for these words of wisdom. The truth is, I listen to their messages –messages of burn out, compassion fatigue, long days, emotional rollercoaster rides, sprinkled with some truth.

And, there’s not just a sense of waiting for hope, many are waiting for someone to hold hope on their behalf. In my first conversation with a woman I dearly love 4 years ago, I railed at her, “It. Is. Hopeless. It. Is. You can’t tell me there is hope. You don’t understand.”

Sensations of barely hanging on are familiar to me, and my clients. Sometimes, I believe all of us are running on a treadmill. A treadmill of materialism, false belonging. We cannot control the speed of this treadmill – so we are frantic, thirsty, and tired.

Exiles are tired. Tired of being told to look for another place to work, worship, eat, live, stay.

This woman and friend responded to my despair, “Right now, you don’t need to hold hope, I’ll hold it for you, stick with you, and when you are ready, you can test hope.” I expected her to leave, just like every other person had who knew my suffering; however, she did not leave. She pointed consistently, tenderly to Jesus, much like John the Baptist.

John 1:6-8: “6 God sent a man, John the Baptist,[c] 7 to tell about the light so that everyone might believe because of his testimony. 8 John himself was not the light; he was simply a witness to tell about the light.” 

Advent’s exiles are witnesses. Advent’s exiles tell us about the light.

John 1:9-11: “9 The one who is the true light, who gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. 10 He came into the very world he created, but the world didn’t recognize him.11 He came to his own people, and even they rejected him. 

Advent’s exiles believe, trust and accept him, because he, too was an exile.

John 1:12-13: “12 But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God.13 They are reborn—not with a physical birth resulting from human passion or plan, but a birth that comes from God.”

Advent’s exiles are children of God.

John 1:14: “ 4 So the Word became human[d] and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. [e] And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son.

Advent’s exiles are witnesses to this glory – anticipating, groaning, weeping, and pursuing righteousness on behalf of those who have not yet seen the light.