We are Walking in Hope

by Traci Hubbard                                         

Welcome to Advent, the season when we dare to hope, even when the world hasn’t yet given us a reason to. Advent is not a “Hallmark Christmas Movie” where everything is tidy, glowing, and smells suspiciously like cinnamon. Advent is the season that whispers, “Even in the dark, God is already on the move.” Advent is God’s invitation to walk in hope before we see the light. If you’ve been in a mall recently, you know Advent is in full swing because apparently nothing says “prepare the way of the Lord” like inflatable reindeer and a 12-foot snowman that looks like it’s judging your life choices. We laugh, but Advent does come with this sense that the world is bustling around us while our Creator quietly whispers, “Slow down. Something holy is coming.”

The first candle we light is hope which is not a vague optimism. It is not a fingers-crossed wishfulness. Hope in LOVE’s intentions towards us is real, grounded, stubborn hope. The kind that the Spirit of LOVE promises we can trust.

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.”

I love that word: unswervingly. Most of us swerve for everything—news alerts, weather changes, sales at Costco. One flashing sign and we take an exit. The writer of Hebrews says, “Don’t swerve. Hold on. Hope isn’t a feeling—it’s a grip.” Another translation of Hebrews 10:23 says, “Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.”

I appreciate the encouragement in that phrase “hold fast.” It sounds like something we would yell on a ship in a storm, “Hold fast! The waves are wild, but the anchor is good!” Advent hope is like that: it is not fragile. It is not hoping the weather cooperates for our Christmas plans. The Spirit is teaching that hope is confidence in LOVE’s faithfulness when life is messy, uncertain, or downright chaotic.

I once saw hope in action at an airport gate. A little boy, maybe five, was holding a paper sign that said in crayon, “Welcome home, Daddy!” He could barely keep still. Every time a group of deplaning passengers appeared, he sprinted forward—wrong family every time—and sprinted back. But he kept holding that crayon sign high.

Someone asked him, “How do you know he’s really coming?” He shrugged. “Because he said he would.” That’s Hebrews 10:23 in kid-language. Hope is believing the One who promised will actually show up.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified… for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

This verse is spoken to people about to enter the unknown. Advent always begins there—with the unknown. With the waiting. And the Holy’s response is not, “Cheer up!” or “Pretend it’s fine!” No, Eternal LOVE says, “Be courageous… because I’m going with you.” Courage is not the absence of fear, it is the presence of Mystery. This verse is the Divine taking us gently by the shoulders and saying, “You don’t walk this journey alone.” After all, Advent is a journey. It is not just waiting in a dark womb. Hope is traveling toward the promise that LOVE steps into our world as we hold up our crayon signs and refuses to leave us.

Sometimes courage isn’t loud. Sometimes it’s simply waking up and choosing to trust that God’s presence is more real than your fears.

And let’s be honest—every one of us has had moments where “Be courageous” felt like too big an ask. Like when your GPS says, “You have arrived,” and you clearly have not arrived because you’re staring at a field, a suspicious-looking barn, and a cow named Delilah. That is not courage—that is survival. In our disorientation, the Divine says, “I am with you.” Hope does not mean we know or understand the map, what’s going to happen next. Hope is knowing the Guide.

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me… to proclaim good news to the poor… bind up the broken-hearted… release for the captives…” Isaiah reminds us that hope is not passive waiting. Hope moves. Hope acts. Hope goes walking toward those who need it most. When Jesus read this passage in Luke 4, he basically said, “Isaiah’s hope? That’s happening in Me right now.” Which means we walk in hope by walking with Jesus toward the hurting. Hope is not optimism. Optimism is “Things will get better.” Hope is, “Even if they don’t, God is with us. Emmanuel is always coming with us through every single moment.” Friends, this kind of hope is not a soft, abstract hope. This is kind of hope is an active, incarnate movement. The hope of Jesus does not float above real life. It walks straight into wounds, prisons, loneliness, and despair. Jesus brings a hope that rolls up its sleeves, turns over tables, and surrenders to death on a cross because he trusted the hope set before him after his death. This kind of hope is not loud, not preachy, but deeply present. The kind Jesus carried in his life. The kind we are called to carry.

After a service where I was doing pulpit supply, a woman asked me for a moment and shared a story from the hardest year of her life. Her husband had passed away suddenly. She said she felt like she was walking through fog so thick she couldn’t see tomorrow. One night there was a knock at the door. It was her neighbor Jim, a quiet man not known for emotional speeches. He simply handed her a pot of soup and said, “I didn’t know what to do, so I made this.” Then he left. She told me, “That soup didn’t solve anything, but it kept me going another day. I knew I wasn’t alone.” This is the prophetic wisdom from the third Isaiah in chapter 61 in everyday life. Hope doesn’t always arrive with trumpets. Sometimes it shows up as soup—still warm, quietly delivered, reminding someone they are not forgotten.

Advent hope is not wishful thinking. It is not naïve. It is not fragile. Advent hope holds on because the One who promised is faithful. (Hebrews 10:23) Advent hope Walks courageously, not because life is easy but because the Spirit walks with us. (Deuteronomy 31:6) And Advent hope Moves outward carrying good news to the weary and broken. (Isaiah 61:1)

Today, we lit the Hope Candle, remembering that hope holds fast because the Holy is faithful. Hope walks courageously because the Spirit of LOVE journeys with us. And hope becomes embodied because Jesus brings good news to real people in real places. Advent is our chance to practice walking in hope, not sprinting, not rushing, not pretending everything is fine, but moving forward, step by step, trusting the One who holds our lives.

Folks, as we begin our second year together on this First Sunday of Advent, our invitation is simple, “Come…come and walk in hope. Hold your crayon signs. Take the next step. And bring the soup. Hope is not a light at the end of the tunnel. Hope is the ONE who walks through the tunnel with us. May we step into this season holding onto the LOVE who never lets go of us. Together, we are walking in hope. O Come, O Come Emmanuel. May it be so, amen.