Hope That Carries Us

“But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles.” — Isaiah 40:31

Last night we held a Longest Night worship service at my church for those struggling with grief, worry, and related emotions during the holidays.  It was a heavy, but hopeful service where everyone was given permission to express their feelings, no matter what they were.  

I found myself unexpectedly emotional during the service as I took in the darkness many of us were carrying, even as we clung to the hope that the light could overcome it.  

A simple prayer came to mind in that moment.  I silently prayed to God, "This is all to heavy, you take it."  

One of the many things I have been learning lately is that when hopelessness threatens to rule the day, even a small shred of hope can turn it away.  Hope does not merely accompany us—it carries us. When our strength falters, hope bears the weight we can no longer lift. 

When prayers feel unanswered, and the road stretches longer than expected, hope steadies our steps and keeps us moving forward. Biblical hope is not delicate or naïve. It is resilient. It is strong enough to hold us when we cannot hold ourselves.

The prophet Isaiah reminds us that strength is renewed in the waiting, not after the waiting ends. Hope is not a fragile feeling we cling to until relief arrives. Hope is what holds us through the waiting itself. It is the unseen current beneath our feet when the ground feels unsteady.

Scripture is filled with stories of people carried by hope through long seasons—exiles who waited for restoration, prophets who spoke into silence, communities who trusted God’s promises even when circumstances offered little evidence. 

Hope carried them through disappointment, through endurance, through the slow work of faithfulness, not by removing hardship, but by sustaining them within it.

Advent is a season when hope feels close at hand. The promise of Christmas—the light arriving in the darkness—comes wrapped in familiar rituals, music, and warmth. It is easier to believe that something good is coming. 

But Advent also teaches us that hope is meant to last longer than a season. The danger is not that we feel hopeful in December, but that we allow hope to fade once the lights are taken down and life returns to its ordinary weight.

The hope of Advent is not seasonal decoration; it is spiritual grounding. It is meant to carry us into January, into uncertainty, into grief, into long stretches where answers are slow and clarity elusive. Hope does not erase pain, but it lifts the weary heart so it does not collapse under its weight.

We are often told to be strong, to push through, to endure by sheer determination. Advent offers a gentler truth: you are not meant to carry everything alone. You are carried. The God for whom you wait is already holding you.

Hope is not just expectation—it is participation in God’s ongoing redemption. It reshapes our posture, loosens our grip on control, and teaches us to trust that God is at work even when we cannot yet see the outcome.

Advent reminds us that hope is not passive. It is powerful. It lifts, renews, and reorients. As Christmas approaches—and long after it passes—let hope carry you. Let God be the strength beneath your wings.

Prayer
God of sustaining hope, carry us when we are weary. Renew our strength as we wait upon you. Lift us when discouragement presses down, and help us trust that hope is not something we must manufacture, but a gift you freely give. Teach us to rest in your faithfulness. Amen.

Reflection Questions
1. Where in your life do you feel too tired or discouraged to keep going on your own strength?

2. How does it change your understanding of hope to imagine it as something that carries you rather than something you must hold?

3. What would it look like to let Advent hope sustain you beyond Christmas, into the ordinary days ahead?