“What would you have liked to hear from your graduation speech?”
I could hear my brother opening a new mental tab as he prepared for my answer to his question: organizing his “graduation speech” thoughts in his head. Or maybe, he really was taking notes. I couldn’t tell over the phone.
“Having hope for the future,” I told him. When my brother agreed to speak at his upcoming high school graduation, he asked if he could bounce some ideas off of me, since I am already on the other side of that inspiring day. I asked him the most important thing he wanted to get across, and he answered, “God’s sovereignty.” I pointed out the overlap of our answers: that there was hope for the future in trusting God’s sovereignty.
After our conversation ended, my own mental discourse refused to shut up.
Why is “hope” so important to communicate? Why is hope for the future the thing I most want to hear about—in high school, and even now? I still find myself scared of the future, even though God has provided and opened doors to opportunities I didn’t even know existed. So, why is the default fear?
A chat with a friend and fellow Covenant student over breakfast wove through topics of ambition, interest, and academia before touching on this topic of uncertainty. We both shared our fear of having little idea what to expect from the future and not knowing where our identities and strengths would fall into place.
Why does the future feel uncertain? I guess it always has been. No one can predict the future: that’s kind of the point. But in this particular time, I find myself looking around at the suffering I see both close and far away. I see how other people’s futures are being ripped apart. I grieve for the loss and sin that rises up every day. I wonder how I can be so concerned for my own future, and if it’s even fair to wish for security.
These thoughts are not from God. Yet uncertainty still feels real, and in searching for a weapon to combat it, I found hope. Now, I always heard that hope was a light thing, a warm thing. A trust-fall into God’s sovereignty. And this is beautiful; I long for that and believe that it is impossible to push through without fully relying on God. But right now, hope feels like setting an alarm. Like asking God for reminders every morning. Like hunting down fearful thoughts and pinning them with the gospel. Like weed whacking thickets of ungratefulness.
Several times a day, I have to catch myself in a “fear default” and ask God to teach me hope.
So, what does everyday hope look like? What’s the one thing that should be said in that graduation speech? I think a place to start would be actively combating a fear default and relenting to God’s sovereignty. Instead of messages of hope and encouragement, one thing I heard a lot in high school was, “just wait until you get to college, it won’t be so easy.” Now, I hear “just wait until you get out into the real world, it gets worse.”
This is one tiny example of a “fear default” outlook on the future. Hearing this outlook just makes me want to flee into the forest and live out the rest of my years as a happy hermit in solitude. The Bible teaches that as we grow older, our sanctification process continues, we gain wisdom, and we know Jesus more and more. Trials are promised, but so are blessings. And the hope that we move forward with is a solid force, a weapon, and a reminder.