How Important Is Hope?

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by Larry Short

World Vision friends and colleagues Brian Sytsma (left) and Rob Moll. Rob was killed last month in a climbing accident on Mt. Rainier. Photo courtesy Brian's Facebook page.
Two World Vision colleagues and friends hiking: Brian Sytsma (left) and Rob Moll (right). Rob was killed in a hiking accident on Mt. Rainier last month. Photo courtesy Brian’s Facebook page.

Last week I learned that someone I loved and respected at World Vision, looked up to as a mentor and considered a friend who had been very kind to me, died very suddenly and unexpectedly on Mt. Rainier.

Rob Moll was an editor at Christianity Today for many years, before coming to World Vision and taking a job (as writer for the president) that I had applied for. I was vaguely annoyed, of course, even though I recognized he was far more qualified than I was — an amazing writer and editor who had published several brilliant books.

But my annoyance faded quickly as I got to know Rob. He was a riveting presenter at chapels, and his intense curiosity, scientific interest, and passionate love for Jesus made it hard to stay annoyed. The last time we met was an informal lunch at World Vision’s U.S. headquarters, where I sought and received from him some good advice on how to get my novel professionally reviewed.

Rob left World Vision shortly thereafter for a job in Boston, but retained some good friends here, and came back here last month to climb Mt. Rainier with one of them, a colleague and friend named Brian. They were climbing an escarpment when Rob lost his footing and fell 100 feet. Brian descended quickly to find him unresponsive, and by the time the helicopter arrived, he had passed into the presence of Jesus.

One of Rob’s books is titled: The Art of Dying: Living Fully Into the Life to Come.

Rob was only 41. He had a wife and four children. His funeral is Friday afternoon. (Please let me know if anyone would like to go with me.)

Rob’s passing was the second brush with grief I’d had in the past few months. I struggled when I learned earlier this year that Pastor Martin and Kim were moving on. Martin is a good friend and mentor and one of the key reasons Darlene and I fell in love with this church and have enjoyed being a part of this body for the past 20 years or so.

And of course I’ve also lost my mom and dad, both sets of grandparents, other aunts and uncles, and many other friends, many of them here at Elim. I don’t think it’s possible to experience living until you are in your 60s without the shared experience of loss and grief.

What buoys us up in the midst of such loss? What sustains us and helps us to keep going? It’s hope.

Hope tells me that Rob and I will have lunch once again. It tells me that I will be joyfully reunited with my parents and other lost loved ones, and that we will together explore the hills of heaven and enjoy a deeper and more personal knowledge of our Savior when we do.

Hope also reassures me that God knows what he is doing in a church which experiences the loss of a pastor and friend like Martin!

Hope is not wistful or wishful thinking, like our culture sometimes thinks it is: “Wow, I really hope that happens ….” No, it’s something completely different. Hebrews 11:1 assures us: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” So hope is all tied up in this package with faith and conviction. It’s something you believe, because the God who is faithful and who keeps His promises says that it is so.

And it has occurred to me more than once, and more vividly recently, that if we can trust God to reunite us with our loved ones, if we can trust Him when He promises life eternal, we can also trust Him when He plainly tells us other things. In one sense, smaller things … things like: “Do not fear” (which he repeats over and over again in Scripture), or promises of His presence with us now, or of His imminent return, or promises that if we ask for the good gift of the Holy Spirit, He will grant that Gift.

While the pain of loss and grief diminishes over time, I don’t think it ever disappears completely in this life. But the promise of hope tells us there is a life coming when Christ will “wipe every tear from our eyes” (Rev. 7:17 and 21:4). Loss will then be a distant and powerless memory, when we are confronted with the reality of the coming Kingdom, eternal life, and the King in all His glory!

I’ve been thinking about and working on the challenge Pastor Steve shared Sunday: What letter might Christ write to us, just as He wrote to the seven churches in Asia Minor through John? Part of that assignment is, what might Christ commend in our church? For me, I think the answer is that Elim is a place that has, for me, nourished hope. We are excitedly and expectantly, together, looking forward to that day when He will wipe away our tears!

P.S.: Go here if you’d like to contribute to a special memorial campaign for a project that was near and dear to Rob’s heart, life-saving clean water in Malawi. Or click for the Gofundme page set up to help Rob’s family.

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Walking Away Sad

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By Hannah Comerford

Through the white picture-frame windows, closed by curlicue latches, I can see a short iron gate, bushes and hedges in various shades of green, and a tree bare from winter and covered in ivy. Birds sing. I have tea at my desk. I’m sitting in the home of C. S. Lewis, my hero of both the faith and literature. This room once belonged to his stepson, Douglas Gresham, and now I’m living here for two weeks.

It’s all more than I could have hoped for.

But what if I could give it all up? What if I could turn back the time, drop out of the master’s program I’ve worked so hard to be a part of, give up every precious experience I’m gaining in this beautiful land? I would do this all and more for the one thing I’ve desired for years.

The rich young man in the Gospel of Matthew asked, “What must I do to obtain eternal life?” He left sorrowful because the price was too high.

My problem isn’t so much with price. Through deaths of loved ones, loss of health, and multiple moves, I am not as scared to give things up as I once was. Nor do I have a problem seeing what I can do for eternal life, for I know that, as a believer in Christ’s death and resurrection and payment for my sins, I already have eternal life.

No, my question is both more and less holy. On bad days, I see the children others have been given and ask, “What must I give to become a mother?”

If I give up my career as an editor, my journey toward a master’s degree, the health I’ve worked to maintain, would I then be able to earn this privilege? Perhaps I haven’t prayed hard enough or long enough. Maybe I just need to hurry up and learn the lesson God has for me so He can finally bless me.

My namesake prayed to the Lord and received a son, the prophet Samuel. Why did God answer her and not me? Was it because she bargained with God, promising to give up her child to be a servant in the temple if only the Lord would provide the infant? If I, too, bargain, will I obtain what I seek?

On these bad days, I walk away sad, for I cannot obtain the prize I so desperately want.

The rich young man and I have different questions, yet our problem is the same: we don’t recognize the true prize. It is not eternal life or motherhood or any other blessing—those are gifts given freely above and beyond our life with God.

The true prize was sitting in front of the rich young man. The answer lay in the heart behind Hannah’s prayer in the temple. And it’s free to me and to all believers in Christ.

The rich young man left sad because he failed to see that a relationship with Christ was worth more than all his possessions—and even more than eternal life. Hannah received her answer to prayer because her ultimate goal wasn’t just to be a mother; she wanted the opportunity to worship the Lord by giving Him an offering worth more than the mandatory sacrificial lambs. If she had valued her son more than the Lord, she would not have kept her promise. Instead, she took her blessing as an opportunity to praise the Lord through sacrifice and prayer.

When you’re in love with a person, you’re willing to give up your time, money, and plans in order to be with them. As a wife, you hold dear the engagement ring your husband gave you, but you would give it up if it could somehow save your beloved’s life. Your relationship with the person is worth far more than what they give you.

When we place our ultimate hope, love, and satisfaction in the Lord, we can recognize that anything more than a relationship with Him is like that engagement ring—added grace, blessings from the kind heart of a Father. We can enjoy these things because we know they are gifts from our Father, but we can also willingly lay them down, for they are not the source of our joy.

Perhaps, like I do, you long for a good thing that God hasn’t chosen to give you. Or perhaps God has blessed you with the desires of your heart—family, health, financial provision, etc. Maybe you’re worried that these desires, whether fulfilled or not, can become more desirable than Jesus, that you will become the rich young man. Take heart! As the young man left, Jesus said, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God. . . . With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

On the bad days when we long for things more than we long for Christ, and on the good days when we find our joy in our relationship with Christ first and in His blessings second, may our prayer continue to be that God would do the miraculous and make our hearts long after Him.

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