A weary world needs hopeful stories

There is a tension in telling hopeful stories these days. The suffering in the world is significant. Experiencing joy, hope and contentment can, at times, feel almost illicit or at least lacking in compassion and solidarity.

This Sunday, many congregations following the Western liturgical calendar will light the pink candle in their Advent wreaths and focus their worship on joy with texts assigned by the Revised Common Lectionary that trace this theme across the arc of Scripture.

If such a focus feels difficult for many of us right now, it helps to remember that the texts inviting us to reflect on joy describe a messy and broken world. Far removed from the heavenly voice at Jesus’ baptism, the imprisoned John the Baptist wants to know if it has all been worth it. His disciples relay his curt question to Jesus: “Are you really the one we are waiting for, or shall we keep on looking?” (Matthew 11:3 Living Bible).

The book of Isaiah speaks of wilderness, dry land and desert (Isaiah 35:1-2). Even in Mary’s song of triumph, we hear the teenage mother describe a world deeply divided between the rich and the hungry (Luke 1:52-53).

These texts embed joy in the full complexity of the current moment. Joy does not deny reality but focuses our attention on moments of creativity and compassion, enabling us to tell hopeful stories in the midst of a groaning world.

Climate scientist Katharine Hayhoe understands dire times. Hayhoe served as the lead author of the U.S. National Climate Assessment under the Bush, Obama and first Trump administrations. Her warnings about the global crisis are direct, yet she is also full of hopeful stories about communities getting things right. This isn’t an accident.

In her work as a climate communicator, Hayhoe realized something about the human brain: We can only absorb so much fear and worry before we shut down. When we are faced with endless streams of discouraging statistics and heartbreaking stories, the problem seems insurmountable. And if there is nothing we can do, it is easier just to give up.

The late Craig Dykstra, longtime Lilly Endowment vice president of religion and research professor of practical theology at Duke Divinity, argued that “narratives of declension and critique” are too easy. In his obituary, Dykstra’s colleague and friend L. Gregory Jones shared that Dykstra resisted such narratives because “they led people down paths of passivity and discouragement.”

Both Hayhoe and Dykstra realized an important truth: Stories of fear can paralyze, but stories of hope can inspire action.

This is not an excuse to be uninformed. Knowing what is happening in the world allows us to identify suffering and direct our actions in meaningful ways. But if action is the goal, hopeful stories are essential.

Dykstra was always “on the lookout for signs of grace and love and joy.” With joy-trained vision, he found stories of hope, brimming with the light of God, in the individuals, congregations and organizations he encountered.

Hayhoe has a practice of seeking out and sharing hopeful stories. As she explained to Faith & Leadership: “You’re much more equipped to go out and make it happen if you realize that it is already being done in other places, that you can make a difference.” Hopeful stories spark our imaginations and remind us that we are not alone.

We as the church are uniquely equipped to share good news. Grounded in the richness of our theological heritage, we are able to see and name moments of resurrection that might otherwise be missed. Our embeddedness in communities and frequent presence at sites of suffering allow us to bear witness to stories of courage, collaboration and transformation unfolding in the darkest places.

When the world is hard and vision is dim, the church’s ability to see and proclaim hopeful stories may be our most powerful tool for resistance and change.

Importantly, the stories don’t have to be dramatic or extravagant to make a difference. It’s the small congregation that said, “we can help one family.” It’s the community, grieving the loss of a once-vibrant music program, that rearranges its pews and turns the congregation into the choir. It’s the church that realizes the problem in its parking lot was actually an invitation to ministry and collaboration.

Stories like this are found wherever the people of God gather. They feature ordinary people in ordinary congregations who recognize their limits and yet still take action. As they discern the faithful response in their context, they hold a light for others, saying, “If we can do it, you can too. Together, we will make a difference.”

What hopeful stories can your congregation tell a weary world? Have you seen neighbors coming together to care for each other? Have you witnessed moments of resurrection where death seemed to hold sway?

It can take some vision calibration and hard work to find these stories, but they are there. Once you have begun to identify the stories, consider how you might share them within and beyond your congregation. Perhaps you have a social media channel looking for more content. Or maybe there is a moment during the Sunday service when the congregation can pause to celebrate.

Each story told anoints our despair and offers an invitation to action.

If the church is to have a Sunday dedicated to joy, it seems fitting that it comes in the season of Advent. The season where we are waiting, often in darkness, for God’s promise to be fulfilled. On this Sunday, we don’t declare the darkness is over or the promised deliverance has arrived. Instead, we allow ourselves to see differently and hold hope with an unwed mother and an imprisoned preacher that the world can be different than it is.

Jesus doesn’t answer John’s question with a “yes” or a “no.” Instead, he tells John’s messengers to share what they have seen: “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with a skin disease are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them” (Matthew 11:4-5 NRSVue). Instead of one word, Jesus gives the disillusioned prisoner six stories. Stories of people with names and faces and families who love them. Stories that declare resurrection is happening even in the midst of this broken world.

May we too call the despairing to action with stories of hope.