When I was in elementary school, I loved recess. No matter how dreadful the weather was outside, I looked forward to playing with my friends. We climbed the monkey bars, chased each other, jumped hopscotch, and shot basketballs. But what I really looked forward to was playing tetherball. I raced outside to be the first to the metal tetherball pole, about eight feet high fixed into the concrete with a rope attached to the top and a medium-sized ball tied to the other end of the rope. The game consisted of hitting the ball past your opponent and wrapping the rope around the pole.
The rules were agreed at the start of the game. Normally, players can only hit the ball with their hands. If negotiated, players could catch, bobble, or hold the ball. Taller players had a natural strategic advantage. The player who won continued to compete with other opponents until beaten. I played hard in the Texas heat.
When I was in the sixth grade, I asked my parents for a tetherball set as a Christmas gift. I really wanted to play the game at home and invite my friends over. It was a reasonable request, and I was confident that my hopes would be realized. Christmas morning came and I rushed downstairs to look for a large box that contained my tetherball. My heart sank when I received other nice gifts, but no tetherball. To make matters worse, I expressed my disappointment to my parents. Looking back later as a parent, my words must have stung as we lived in relative abundance and they gave selflessly.
After Christmas, I found an old automobile tire and somehow carted it home. I told my parents that a tetherball set could be grounded by pouring concrete into the tire. My birthday was in January, and I pleaded again for a tetherball set. This time, my hopes were fulfilled. Within a few days, the concrete hardened inside the tire and was ready for tetherball. Many joyful hours were spent hitting that tetherball, both alone and with friends.
It is now the season of Advent, and the first candle of hope has been lit. Christianity is a religion of hope founded upon a baby born into a Roman world filled with violence, injustice, and suffering. The military strength of the Romans enslaved their weaker neighbors. Life was easily erased in so many tortuous and cruel ways. Most inhabitants existed in a near starvation state surrounded by death and disease. It was easy to collapse into depression and hopelessness. Yet, out of darkness came the light of hope. The Apostle Paul wrote on hope in his letters. I am especially attracted to his letter to the Romans on the hope of fulfillment:
“I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8:18–25)
In my youth, I hoped for a tetherball. It was important to me at the time but looking back, it seemed so irrelevant and selfish considering the grander view of life; the Vietnam War was raging, and the Soviet Union was crushing satellite countries who sought democracy. My childhood mind could not grasp the bigger picture at that time. Yet, my hopes were fulfilled after Christmas.
As a Christian, I am a hope-filled person. When I get frustrated with governments, cultures, and social media posts, I pause to survey generational time, far greater than my short lifespan. I see God’s sovereignty overruling human folly. I glimpse the weak triumphing over the strong. I ponder the humble voices heard over boastful shouts. This gives me hope when the skies darken.
When asked about my reaction to the Israeli – Palestinian crisis, I say that I don’t have a solution. I quickly follow-up with stating that I am still hopeful and pray for peace. When questioned about a solution for the Ukraine – Russia war, I quietly state that it looks bleak. I then pray and hope for a just peace settlement. My micro viewpoint, like during my youth, is enlarged by my mature faith in the fulfillment of Scripture. The first candle of Advent reminds Christians that our hope is not founded on sinful human behaviors but ushered in by the child who brought the good news of God’s Kingdom. Hope is the foundational start of the Advent season. Those that light this first Advent candle find hope in something far greater than themselves.
