Alexander Pope’s epigram, “Hope springs eternal in the human breast,” may be one of the best known and often repeated quotes about hope in the English language, but its truth is questionable. Human beings need hope; however, sometimes it totally deserts us.
When we face the last days of the final illness and the doctors and family give up hope, does hope still spring up in our breast? I am not sure it does. There must be a time when we have nothing to look forward to but the end. Or is there still hope that the end will be swift or painless or delayed a day or two?
The French word for hope is espoir, and the word for the opposite is desespoir, the word which became despair some years after the Norman Conquest brought French to England in 1066 A.D. When all hope is gone, are we left with despair?
Defined in modern times as a belief in a positive outcome to circumstances or an expectation of a positive outcome, hope once meant to have confidence or trust in something or someone. Even today a political party might refer to a promising new candidate as their best hope. I think of hope as an optimistic view that the future will be better, that better times are ahead.
Pope was right in thinking the human soul yearns for something better in the future. As a child I hoped for a certain doll for Christmas when I was ten. The precursor to Barbie was what we called a high heeled doll, and I wanted one with all my heart. My father, however, who had been stationed in South Korea for a year, bought baby dolls for us from the post exchange and gave me one for Christmas. My hopes were dashed and for a day or so I felt despair.
Later I hoped to make good grades or hoped to go to the college I wanted. Some hopes were met, others not. While in college I hoped for a career in writing and hoped to find the right man to marry. Hopes deferred were still hopes. I just projected them to some distant future. After all, when you are twenty-one, you have all the time in the world stretched ahead.
Later my hoped centered on my children, on financial goals, or on a new house. Even in down times, I remained hopeful that tomorrow would be better. When I received a diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, I had hope it would not be as bad as the worst cases. I had hope that diet, vitamins would mitigate the disease. I had hope I could avoid a wheelchair.
When I started writing, I had hope for finding a publisher and hope my work would find acceptance among readers.
Something happened recently that gave me pause for thought. The husband of a woman who had died after several years with Alzheimer’s disease, asked me to publish her books through my small independent publishing company. She had published her first book, a short novel for teens, in 1988 through an independent press run by a University of Alabama professor.
This lady struggled to find a publisher, finally found a small press, did her own marketing, and no doubt felt great disappointment of her hopes for a wide circulation of her books. And then, a few years later, she slipped into dementia and finally death.
Working with her manuscript put my own hopes in perspective. How important was her hope to become a published writer when she discovered that she was losing her memory? Did she ever find herself looking at nothing but despair?
Perhaps she did. I will have to ask her husband how she handled those dark days before the illness took all worry away; however, I do know one thing about this woman. She was a Christian, a former missionary to Navajo children. Her hope was not in this world.
Like this woman, I also see the future as darker for me than the present. Sometimes I flirt with depression as my vision of the rest of my life seems bleak. About the time that my mind goes this direction I am reminded of one wonderful thing.
My hope is not in this world. My future does not end at my death.
Hebrews 11:1 Says faith is the evidence of things hoped for. Wow! What a deep paradox! The evidence of my hope for success as a writer would be a best-selling book, not believing with all my heart that I would have one someday. I could believe all I wanted, but that did not make it true.
“Evidence”? How can faith be evidence? Evidence is something you can see or touch.
The writer of Hebrews was not talking about that kind of faith. He meant faith that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and that He died on a cross to pay the penalty of my sin. I believe that totally. Why do I believe? I believe because I know—I just know. I have been changed by that faith. I feel it. It is part of me. It has upheld me at every crossroad in my life.
Paul the apostle explained this paradox in Romans 8:24 (New International Version). “For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have?”
So now, when the gloom of despair appears on my horizon, I remember to visualize what I really have to look forward to. A glorious reunion. A forever joy. A place where I will be whole through eternity.
Pope’s couplet continues with a second line: “Hope springs eternal in the human breast/ man never is but always to be blest.” He thought we never truly felt as if our lives were good, but always hoped the future would be better. On earth, things erode and fall apart, and decay. Hope on earth will inevitably lead to disappointment.
For those with faith in Christ, the time will come when there is no need for hope.
