Some years ago, shortly after i’d left law practice to try my hand as a full time singer songwriter, i had a conversation with an old friend, a thoroughly suburban fellow who understood the business of music. He was very encouraging, spoke favorably of my meager musical and lyrical abilities, and gave me reason to believe that, from purely economic angles, i could ‘survive’ as a musician. (While mildly curious in things Christian, he was not a man of belief.) His one concern, a sizable one, was that my songs were not edgy or raw enough, and that the view of life described in my songs was hardly recognizable to 20th century listeners. His critique was along these lines: “even when your words are honest, your chords always go somewhere nice. You need to darken things up a bit so that they feel more like the real world.” My sense was that he believed my songs to be sentimental, a bit (or a lot) out of touch with reality, stupidly innocent, embarrassingly naive.
In short, they contained too much hope, to which i plead guilty.
Last week, in a reading from the Old Testament, i came across an interesting phrase that made me recall that years-ago conversation. In chapter 9 of Zechariah, the enslaved people of God, a ragtag populace of idolators and ingrates, are being told that their years of exile are over and t they are returning to Israel. God, speaking through the prophet, bids them do so with these words:
“Return to your fortress, you prisoners of hope.”
“Prisoners of hope,” He calls them.
Regret, illusion, greed, the past — those i might describe as prison. But hope?
And yet, as i look over the past year, i find myself to be an inmate myself, a prisoner of hope.
Because of Christmas.
One could argue that to believe in the Christmas story — that God loved this broken world and gave Himself to it, by pouring Himself into the thimble of a human body, in order to “bring the whole ruined world” back to paradise — is to be captive to a calm certainty that, even amidst the darkness all around us, goodness is at work and, cliche though it might sound, “everything is going to be OK.”
Christmas takes us prisoner, makes us inescapably people of faith, hope, love.
And knowing that to be true, the angel would tell us, then and now, “Behold, I bring you good tidings fo great joy.”
And on this December 25th, that’s where i find myself; gratefully enclosed in a hope that will release me only when i reach the reality — Christ and heaven — to which it looks.
Gary continues to live with and inspire us with his hope, even as he deals with growing weakness and fatigue. We’ve had the recent gift of good days with him that included short walks outside, visits with friends, foodfoodfood and freedom from discomfort for Gary. We laugh like never before, even if we are quiet tired at times. Our next doctor appointment is on January 5, 2012.
Merry Christmas. Your kindnesses continue to be daily reminders of Emmanuel, “God with us.” … Thank you. allen
Allen, Thank you so much for your updates. I really look forward to each one. Thankful that Gary has had some good days. Praying for all of you and know that we love each of you. May God continue to give you strength for each new day. Thank God for the hope that only He can give.
Love, Karen
MERRY CHRISTMAS and may God continue to grant you all comfort and courage in your journey together. Love & Prayers
Levi,
“Captive to a calm certainty that, even amidst the darkness all around us, goodness is at work . . . “ How differently we will meet each temporal challenge if only we can allow ourselves to surrender into the ranks of ‘captives’ you aptly describe.
In “Shawshank Redemption,” prisoner Red warns fellow prisoner Andy Dufresne against hope, cautioning that it can ‘drive you crazy.’ Yet Andy’s hope enables not only his eventual escape, but a series of life-giving actions even while he is imprisoned.
How like the call of Christ—except that, as the walk you and Gary share illustrates,—it matter enormously what the object of the hope is. The songs, older and newer, invite the hearer to consider what life might be like if there really could be a reason for the ‘hope that does not disappoint us.’ In the shared glimpses of this sometimes daunting part of the journey, we behold and ponder lives lived where that hope is not only possible, but a central truth. We are praying; we are grateful.
“And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long, steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave again, and arms are strong. Alleluia.” (Sine Nomine)
Praying, and watching, bound with hope,
pat
Praying in Indiana. And hoping in Jesus alone.
Checking in on Gary….I am reserved in using the word precious, but I unhesitatingly call this dear man, precious. And these are precious, tender and eternal treasures for all of the Levi family. In reading your thoughts, I am remembering those times that I have been, not necessarily overwhelmed, but “bewildered” by the intensity of pain and grief. What I recall with greater clarity, is the sweetness of comfort, compassion, and the grace to hope. I suppose I was a prisoner without knowing it. Continuing to pray with unceasing hope. Thank you for sharing with us.
Walkers are continuing in our prayers for you and the whole Levi family. We love you and lift you up. Thank you so much for your updates on Gary. Our hope abounds in Him!!
Allen, Your words are always so beautiful. They paint a masterful picture and create such a sense of hope and love. I find myself near tears whenever I read your blog. They are always tears of love, though.Happy New Year to your you and yours.
Though I’ve never met Gary, what a joy it is to read your hope-filled blog and see his smiling face….both reflections of glory to come! Thank you — my prayers continue for those good days.
God continues to use you to inspire those of us who do not have the gift of music…through your words of hope, joy and peace. Continuing to pray the Lord will give the Levi family days filled with His presence!