A Vision of Hope

by

For many years the coming of spring would get me to thinking about getting away for some hiking in the White Mountains. It still does and, whether or not I do get back, years of hiking have furnished me with a treasure trove of experiences. Many years ago in early spring, near the summit of Mount Osceola, on a dark side of the mountain, I encountered snow and ice. That's to be expected in May but one sight did startle me: in a crevice I saw moss in ice. Warm days of melting and cold nights of freezing had left a pocket where it appeared that the moss was growing out of the ice - a bright, lush green in the midst of harsh grey-white.

Moss is an elementary plant and grows in the poorest of soils. Ice at that time of the year is the product of snow melt water and freezing cold. Together they represent an unkind environment for life. But, given warmth, the ice will melt; and, given time, the moss will become host to other growing things that will sweeten the soil. When that happens, new forms of life will appear.

Any community needs warmth to survive. The bite of harsh words, the chill of unforgiving spirits, even thoughtless apathy can freeze the most vital fellowship. Combine that with an inhospitable environment and only the very basic forms of life will survive. And yet, and yet, like moss in ice, there is reason to be hopeful. Natalie Sleeth puts it perfectly: “In the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be, unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.”

Last year I had the privilege of attending a District Workshop with the Rev. Rebekah Simon-Peter, a consultant who specializes in helping church leaders and congregations create a culture of renewal. Over the course of the workshop she challenged us to enhance our people skills to create happier relationships; to heighten our ability to work together for the common good; to restore our faith in people while learning to defuse tension and misunderstanding; to draw out the best contribution from each person; and to learn how to bring out the best in the people who frustrate us the most. It occurs to me that a culture of renewal always has a vision of hope.

A vision of hope is rooted in the capacity to see the extraordinary in the ordinary, in the determination to look beyond our fears and away from the fear mongers, to imagine the timeless quality of the present moment. If it is true that, “where there is no vision the people perish,” then it is equally true that where there is no hope the people wither. If I learned anything at the workshop, it is that the seeds of renewal are all around us and need only warmth and tending to bring a harvest.

In a community of faith it is the simple commitment by the people to live a life of faith that provides a source of hope. Like moss in ice, the church survives by getting back to its roots and living in the warmth of God's Spirit. But more than that the church survives when it engages the world with a vision of hope. That’s what the early church saw in the Risen Lord; that’s what the ancient church saw as they wrestled with what they believed; that’s what every church in every generation sees as they/we seek to discover how we live in and for the culture in which we find ourselves.

If Easter means anything, it is a celebration of life. It means the life and wisdom of Jesus as a model for life and living; it means caring for the least and the lost, the marginalized and the rejected, those who are different, all of God’s children; it means investing ourselves and our resources in building the world up, not hurting and destroying. It means not only seeing a vision of hope, but becoming, in Christ, a vision of hope for each person we encounter.