Day 27: Thrill

It occurs that me that one of the reasons I don’t like hope is that it feels dangerous to me, and I don’t court danger.  At least not on purpose.  Life gives you enough risk and danger without going around taunting it, thank you very much. 

Seeing “courage” as a synonym for hope gave me pause yesterday.  Courage is kind of the opposite of danger.  Or maybe it’s that courage is called into being by danger.  You can’t have courage without something to be scared of.

And also, when I think of hope at Advent, I think of the line from O Holy Night:  a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.  I am not a thrill seeker by any stretch, and the idea that a weary world would have the energy to rejoice seems like a great miracle.  That weary rejoicing might also be simply some freaking relief that we can see the first thin glimpses of a new and glorious morn breaking over yonder.  But that’s not hope if you already see it, is it?

I also think of O Little Town of Bethlehem where the hopes and fears of all the years are met in one little human on one little night.  Also, that carol has one of my favorite verses ever:  “How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given.  So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of God’s heaven.”  I feel like that silent gift that gets given over and over and over is kind of what makes the great world spin.  I digress.

A thrill of hope.  Is that the courage that you feel swell in your heart when you know that task at hand is daunting, but you feel ready for it?  Or coming down the chute at a marathon’s finish, when you know for sure you’re going to make it? 

A thrill of hope does not sound inviting to me, but sign me up for a weary world rejoicing.  In fact, make it a double.