How do we summon hope?

What is hope? What are we doing when we hope? What is its origin and the source of its vitality?  

I think it is hard to have hope. The fire seems to burn so strongly when there is no wind of opposition; but then the slightest breeze of contest can nearly extinguish the flame.  

Like many, I’m a great admirer of Samwise Gamgee, the loyal friend of Frodo in Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings novels. Sam was pragmatic, humble, and loyal. What touches me especially is that Sam had a poet’s capacity for apprehending the light of the sun when all around was dark. He believed the “old stories” and sensed that things that were too good to be true were yet true.  

When Frodo was caught in the grip of despair and overwhelmed by his enemy, he said, “I can't recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water, nor the touch of grass. I'm naked in the dark.” There, with him, Sam summoned faith that “even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.”

Our text this Sunday is taken from Isaiah 55. There, the prophet Isaiah, like Sam, calls out to Israel in her malaise to “recall the taste of food.” Through him, God says to Israel, “…eat what is good and delight yourselves in rich food.” 

Eventually, we have to assimilate the poetry and stand before the winds of opposition with a flame that burns. In real life. Against real obstacles.  

How do we summon hope like Sam’s when we feel like Frodo? How do we enjoy the fullness of rich food when our stomachs churn with fear?  

These are questions I’m asking as I work through the substantial metaphors of Isaiah 55 and I look forward to being with you on Sunday to “listen diligently” to God (Isaiah 55:2). Bring hungry hearts!