One of my family’s claims to fame is that my sister, Sally, once appeared on “Jeopardy.” As evidence, Levalor blinds hang in her dining room, a consolation prize for having come in second or third. Needless to say, her family videotaped the TV appearance, and for years my nieces and nephew took delight in playing the video and offering the correct answers — which they knew by heart from having watched it endless times — each time my sister didn’t ring in soon enough or answered incorrectly.
One night a few months ago, I watched a re-run of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire.” I won a million dollars eating pizza in my recliner that night, since by pure luck I happened to know the answers posed to a particular contestant. No telling what mistakes I would have made under pressure, but it was fun thinking that I “would have won” a million bucks by answering a few questions from Regis.
Several times a year, we all receive a mailing from Publishers’ Clearing House, announcing that we may have won a fortune. Although the promotional material clearly says “may have won,” and we know that means “probably didn’t win,” we’re intrigued by the possibilities. Many thousands of people fill out the forms, scratch out the winning number, or move the winning sticker from one place to another – all in the name of something that “may” happen.
“I hope I win,” we might say, whether it’s “Jeopardy,” “Who Wants to be a Millionaire,” or Publishers’ Clearing House. It’s interesting that we use the word “hope” to mean “beat the odds,” fully aware that the odds are against that for which we are hoping. “What if I win?” we say to ourselves, imagining the possibilities.
Ironically, that same imagination can also worry about a host of bad things that could happen. “What if this happens, what if that happens,” we worry, conjuring up all kinds of disasters and roadblocks to our plans and dreams. “I sure hope that doesn’t happen,” we fret, as our worst fears take hold of us.
Faith offers a much different understanding of “hope.”
The early Christian community at Rome had much to worry about. It was an unpopular, even dangerous, proposition to join the new religion. Sts. Peter and Paul knew first-hand the risks involved, and the members of their community were beginning to understand that they faced similar risks. Some began to worry.
What if we are publicly accused of being Christian? What if the authorities haul us before court and accuse us of all manner of violations of the law? What if they convict us of some trumped-up charge? What if they put us in jail or to death?
I have a feeling such questions had been posed to Paul at the time he was writing his letter to the Romans. He responded with a word of hope:
“What then shall we say to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but handed him over for us all, how will he not also give us everything else along with him? Who will bring a charge against God’s chosen ones? It is God who acquits us. Who will condemn? It is Christ (Jesus) who died, rather, was raised, who also is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us.
“What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? … No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:31-39)
Perhaps people had been asking Paul, “What if this happens, what if that happens?” He responded to them, in so many words, “I cannot tell you ’what if’! I don’t deal in flights of fancy, imaginings or the anxiety of endless dire possibilities. I cannot tell you ’what if,’ but I can tell you ’what is’: God our Father and creator of the world sent his Son to us, and the Son is our Savior and intercessor. On the cross he conquered the power of evil once for all and shares that victory with us. Nothing – nothing – can separate us from God’s love.”
Whether we dream about winning the lottery or worry about losing everything, Christian hope takes us to another plane, literally beyond imagining. Hope is based not on anyone’s imagination but on the truth, the truth about what God has done for us and still does for us. Ultimately, hope springs from the fact that God is faithful and worthy of trust — a much more solid foundation on which to stand than anything our minds could come up with on our own.
The author of Hebrews writes, “Let us hold unwaveringly to our confession that gives us hope, for he who made the promise is trustworthy.” (Hebrews 10:23) So there it is — we hope not in possibilities but in God. He calms our fears and fills our lives with trust in a future with him always at our side. Better yet, he tells us and shows us repeatedly that he himself is our future, our eternal hope.
Do you have an intention for Bishop Sartain’s prayer? If so, send it to him at Bishop Sartain’s Prayer List, Diocese of Little Rock, 2500 North Tyler St., P.O. Box 7239, Little Rock, AR 72217.
One of my family’s claims to fame is that my sister, Sally, once appeared on “Jeopardy.” As evidence, Levalor blinds hang in her dining room, a consolation prize for having come in second or third. Needless to say, her family videotaped the TV appearance, and for years my nieces and nephew took delight in playing the video and offering the correct answers — which they knew by heart from having watched it endless times — each time my sister didn’t ring in soon enough or answered incorrectly.
One night a few months ago, I watched a re-run of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire.” I won a million dollars eating pizza in my recliner that night, since by pure luck I happened to know the answers posed to a particular contestant. No telling what mistakes I would have made under pressure, but it was fun thinking that I “would have won” a million bucks by answering a few questions from Regis.
Several times a year, we all receive a mailing from Publishers’ Clearing House, announcing that we may have won a fortune. Although the promotional material clearly says “may have won,” and we know that means “probably didn’t win,” we’re intrigued by the possibilities. Many thousands of people fill out the forms, scratch out the winning number, or move the winning sticker from one place to another – all in the name of something that “may” happen.
“I hope I win,” we might say, whether it’s “Jeopardy,” “Who Wants to be a Millionaire,” or Publishers’ Clearing House. It’s interesting that we use the word “hope” to mean “beat the odds,” fully aware that the odds are against that for which we are hoping. “What if I win?” we say to ourselves, imagining the possibilities.
Ironically, that same imagination can also worry about a host of bad things that could happen. “What if this happens, what if that happens,” we worry, conjuring up all kinds of disasters and roadblocks to our plans and dreams. “I sure hope that doesn’t happen,” we fret, as our worst fears take hold of us.
Faith offers a much different understanding of “hope.”
The early Christian community at Rome had much to worry about. It was an unpopular, even dangerous, proposition to join the new religion. Sts. Peter and Paul knew first-hand the risks involved, and the members of their community were beginning to understand that they faced similar risks. Some began to worry.
What if we are publicly accused of being Christian? What if the authorities haul us before court and accuse us of all manner of violations of the law? What if they convict us of some trumped-up charge? What if they put us in jail or to death?
I have a feeling such questions had been posed to Paul at the time he was writing his letter to the Romans. He responded with a word of hope:
“What then shall we say to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but handed him over for us all, how will he not also give us everything else along with him? Who will bring a charge against God’s chosen ones? It is God who acquits us. Who will condemn? It is Christ (Jesus) who died, rather, was raised, who also is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us.
“What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? … No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:31-39)
Perhaps people had been asking Paul, “What if this happens, what if that happens?” He responded to them, in so many words, “I cannot tell you ’what if’! I don’t deal in flights of fancy, imaginings or the anxiety of endless dire possibilities. I cannot tell you ’what if,’ but I can tell you ’what is’: God our Father and creator of the world sent his Son to us, and the Son is our Savior and intercessor. On the cross he conquered the power of evil once for all and shares that victory with us. Nothing – nothing – can separate us from God’s love.”
Whether we dream about winning the lottery or worry about losing everything, Christian hope takes us to another plane, literally beyond imagining. Hope is based not on anyone’s imagination but on the truth, the truth about what God has done for us and still does for us. Ultimately, hope springs from the fact that God is faithful and worthy of trust — a much more solid foundation on which to stand than anything our minds could come up with on our own.
The author of Hebrews writes, “Let us hold unwaveringly to our confession that gives us hope, for he who made the promise is trustworthy.” (Hebrews 10:23) So there it is — we hope not in possibilities but in God. He calms our fears and fills our lives with trust in a future with him always at our side. Better yet, he tells us and shows us repeatedly that he himself is our future, our eternal hope.
Do you have an intention for Bishop Sartain’s prayer? If so, send it to him at Bishop Sartain’s Prayer List, Diocese of Little Rock, 2500 North Tyler St., P.O. Box 7239, Little Rock, AR 72217.