a third act kind of hope
on story arcs in the advent of life
a karen kind of hope
I know how to hope because I know how to wait.
But listen, that doesn’t mean I’m good at it.
On the contrary. I have been decent at waiting in the past, but I often need a distraction. My phone, a book, a TV featuring game shows with slow sub-titles. My four year old has proven to be a worthy distraction. Just today we talked about all of the snacks in the check out line that are dye free (spoiler alert: just nuts and popcorn). But the relief that washes over me when I get to put my groceries on the conveyor belt, or the doctor finally walks in, or my number is called, well, it’s a sweet release.
And then I’m left hoping again.
Hoping for a fast checker, good news from the doctor, a quick turn around for whatever reason I am holding a number (God save us all at the DMV). And I’m not sure that what I’m feeling there is actually hope. I think it’s finally getting my way or receiving the services I am owed. If I don’t like how things went, I can speak to the manager, write a scathing Google review, tell all my friends not to go there and do that because it was just awful from start to finish. Because I didn’t get what I wanted after waiting. And now I need to go buy myself a fun little treat to make up for the fact that I did a “hard” thing and was given proverbial sour grapes. My teeth were set on edge and that wasn’t what I was hoping for.
I want my money back. Or I want a little treat. Because I hoped and I was let down.
mary did you hope?
I doubt that Mary had many highfalutin expectations on what carrying the son of God would bring her. Honestly she doesn’t strike me as the type who thought much about herself at all, but I wonder if there wasn’t a slight edge of disappointment when she gave birth to Christ in a barn and had to lay him in hay and a feeding trough. And poor Joseph, foster father of God incarnate. Can we just have a quick moment of silence for the level of unknown this man walked through? And then his wife, giving birth to God, in a dirty and lowly place. I’m sure it was a humbling moment.
Still, there’s not a lot in the Bible to show that Mary and Joseph were concerned with the tertiary surroundings of the virgin birth. It was miraculous, mysterious, and in many ways, downright dangerous. Birthing him in stable was likely par for the course. And as I have said before, I’m pretty sure Mary had a decent idea as to what was to come. Not the whole story, but parts.
But I wonder what she hoped for. She wasn’t perfect but she raised a perfect child. What sort of hopes do you have for your child when they are God incarnate? And when she watched as his body was nailed to a cross, what did she hope for then? Did she lose her faith even for a moment? Did her knees buckle and her heart drop when she held his lifeless body in her arms?
How do you keep hoping when your hope has been killed?
backwards thinking
Recently I heard Tim Mackie of the Bible Project say that we have hope for what’s ahead by looking at what is behind us. It’s so hard to have hope when you’re in desolation. In my experience, the picture of hope only makes sense in retrospect.
Throughout scripture, God tells his people that He is their God and they are His people. He is not cryptic. You are mine and I am yours. Period. But then disaster strikes and God’s chosen people run for the hills and cling to idols and allow themselves to believe that God abandoned them. But He was there. It was just that the story wasn’t over. It wasn’t even in Act two.
I can’t make sense of tragedy in the world, let alone my own life. My luminous, God-fearing, joy-filled mother is killed at 58 by an aggressive cancer that should have been curable, had she not been chemo resistant. My elderly neighbors live in squalor due to their lack of family support. My son is only mine because a broken system riddled with ethical loopholes and abuse said he is. None of it makes sense. It’s a mystery that I want solved, not one I have to live in.
But the story isn’t over and it’s pretty obvious that this much is true. Life began in a garden and God promised it would end in one too. Last summer I pulled more weeds in my tiny front yard than I had flowers. This is not the garden I hoped for, so the story isn’t over yet. It can’t be.
dénouement
David and I are connoisseurs of a good story and when we go to movies, we love debriefing with one another afterward about how the plot and characters were developed and if the story arc was compelling.
Perhaps you remember when “Avengers: Infinity War” came to theatres in 2018. As Thanos snaps his fingers and half the population disintegrates into dust, the theatre David and I sat in erupted into horrified shouts. Grown adults were crying (sobbing, really) as they watched some of their favorite superheroes turn into ash. Meanwhile, Thanos sits back on another planet and closes his eyes, soaking in the quiet of a now much less populated universe.
The credits rolled and I had to do everything in me to not burst into laughter. The reactions of the people around me were hilarious. Men and women in their 30’s were in tears, holding one another, because Spiderman, Groot, and Black Panther had just vanished. Ok, fine, call me unfeeling, but I couldn’t help but look at David and say, “Do they not know how a story arc works?” The third movie had already been announced and while I had no doubt that some characters would certainly be killed off, this was too much of a cliffhanger to be true. It wasn’t the end of the story, it was the third act.
This was just a Marvel movie—not the story of the universe. I don’t know why pain and suffering exist, but I know that I’ll understand it eventually. I have no idea what act we’re in. I am not sure I want to know. But I have seen what God has done for centuries and He does not get tired.
So for now, I’ll wait.
Always,
Emily
P.S. While we’re in a season of waiting, I encourage everyone to watch mine and David’s favorite Advent movie, Arrival. If you say it’s not an Advent movie, I would argue you to look closer.
Thank you for sharing these timely words, and your heart. Keep writing! You are a blessing.
What a writer!!