Hope is Not a Plan

(I'm not generally a fan of the KJV translation, but these words from Isaiah 2 just don't sound quite right in any other version)

2 And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it.

3 And many people shall go and say, Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths: for out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.

4 And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.

5 O house of Jacob, come ye, and let us walk in the light of the Lord.

Isaiah 2:2-5

I’ll admit it: I watch too much TV.
But I choose my shows the same way I choose my books—I stick with the stories because I like the characters. The plot matters a little bit, but what keeps me coming back are the people in the stories.

And because I watch a lot of mysteries and police procedurals, I’ve learned one thing: about 75 to 80 percent of the time, the person who committed the crime is the very first person they talk to.
They’ll spend an hour running down rabbit trails, crossing continents, or interviewing everyone who ever stood within a mile of the crime scene… but eventually, it all circles back to that first interview.

I’m not watching for the plot.
I’m in it for the characters.

Years ago, I was watching one of these shows—doesn't matter which one—and a team was gearing up for a mission. The leader asked, “Are we ready?”
Someone said, “I hope so.”
And the leader shot back, “Hope is not a plan.”

And they were right. Hope is not a plan.

Which may make hope hard for those of us who really need to have a plan.

Hope isn’t something you can map out or schedule or project manage into being. Hope is the expectation of something better without fully knowing what that “better” will look like… or how we’ll get there. Hope always involves the not-yet.

Which is why hope is at the heart of Advent.

During Advent, we prepare to celebrate the birth of Christ, yes—but we’re also preparing for the world Christ ushers in. The world Isaiah points toward. The world where nations choose peace so wholeheartedly that swords become plowshares and spears become pruning hooks.

Let's just take a moment to imagine how radical that would be?
To transform weapons into farming tools means people are planning for a long peace—so long and so certain that war is no longer an assumption or even a possibility. Isaiah might as well have told them to turn their storm shelters into picnic tables. It sounded just as unlikely then as it does now.

And yet Isaiah tells the people:

Walk in the light of the Lord.

In other words: Walk in hope

Because to walk in hope is to walk with the expectation of something better—even when you can’t find a map. To walk in hope is to put your trust in the main character rather than panicking or (worse yet) nitpicking over the plot.

When we trust the character of God—the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer—we can keep walking even when the story of our own lives takes a twist we never wanted, never expected, or never would’ve chosen.

Hope is not a plan.
And thank God for that.
Because plans fall apart. Plans get interrupted. Plans change with every new piece of information.

Hope, on the other hand, isn't a plan at all.

Hope endures even when the plot falls apart and completely jumps the shark.

And that is what makes Advent worth showing up for.

I hope you will.