Chaplain's Corner

David Augsburger wrote, “The loss of hope is the loss of options.” When hope is lost the future is seen as absolutely undesirable. Despair creeps into the soul and is often described as darkness and gloom, as if there is nothing one can do to change things; as if the “die is cast” and one is on an inevitable and irreversible slide downward.

When the doctor meets with a patient and has that hard conversation, “I’m sorry; your cancer is well advanced. There is no treatment that I can recommend that will change the fact that this cancer will bring your life to an end. There is nothing that I can offer but help managing the symptoms you experience as this cancer progresses.” This kind of message can suck the hope out of a room.

I remember a conversation I had with a husband and wife sometime ago. They had finally reached retirement age, the paperwork was done, the first pension checks had begun to come in and boy did they have plans:  travel, volunteering, more time with the family – it was going to be great. Shortly after retirement, one of them experienced a sharp decline in health, within a few months one was alone and all those plans went up in smoke. In the early days after the diagnosis, hope was hard to find. All they could see was loss; they saw no options, only dead ends. My heart was moved by their loss of hope.

Often in my work, I encounter the loss of hope. I witness a range of responses. On one side I bear witness to hopelessness. Sometimes this hopelessness resolves into renewed hope, a deep appreciation for life and a decision to live every moment until there are no more moments to live; other times after the immediate shock a battle ensues, a battle either to find hope or a battle to keep the hopelessness from casting a black shadow over everything. Sometimes the battle is won – other times – it is lost.

Yesterday I spoke with a 90 year old gentleman who told me his story of hopelessness resolved. He grew up in the church, when he was 18 he was baptized and became a member of the church. But regular attendance and adherence to his religious tradition he lived with a sense of utter despair, a sense of hopelessness. Most of the time he was able pushed this hopelessness under with all the busyness of marriage, family and work.

But in his 30’s he faced a crisis. He tells of three days of darkness, despair, utter hopelessness then he describes a life changing epiphany. At the end of the three days he prayed, he told God that he had nothing to offer, that he was empty, broken, hopeless and he asked Jesus to save him. He described the experience like this:  “All the darkness became light, the burden was lifted and I was free.”

I have also left the bedside of individuals who could not find hope, whose outlook was so grim, so devoid of any sense that anyone cared, that their only wish was to cease to exist. These encounters are hard and I leave with heaviness in my heart for the one who has lost all hope. Having experiences a period in my life when that was my disposition, my prayer is that God will bring hope into this darkness.

When all hope for this life is gone and there are no options but death, one of the things I long for is that each of us is that we will find more than a religious tradition to fall back on. It is my longing that we will have a relational certainty and confidence that God has forgiven us and granted us eternal life. A life that is so gloriously perfect that not even a fleeting memory of the sufferings of this life will be remembered.