Hope That Holds Us

 

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” — Hebrews 6:19

I'm a big fan of the TV show Ted Lasso. It's a sweet, funny, irreverent, and compelling story about an American football coach who is hired to manage an English football coach (soccer).  

In one scene, Ted speaks to the team before a match they believe they are going to lose, and says this: 

So I've been hearing this phrase y'all got over here that I ain't too crazy about. "It's the hope that kills you." Y'all know that? I disagree, you know? I think it's the lack of hope that comes and gets you. See, I believe in hope. I believe in belief. Now, where I'm from, we got a saying too, yeah? A question, actually. "Do you believe in miracles?" Now, I don't need y'all to answer that question for me... but I do want you to answer that question for yourselves. Right now. Do you believe in miracles? And if you do... then I want y'all to circle up with me right now. Come on. Let's go.

Those lines resonate with me.  I confess I have spent more than my fair share of difficult seasons in life, afraid to hope.  The idea that "It's the hope that kills you" lives at the forefront of my mind sometimes.  

But in the end, it always comes down to a choice: Do I dare to hope and risk disappointment, or do I abandon hope and prepare for the worst?  

Hope is not optimism, nor is it denial dressed up in religious language. Hope in Scripture is resilient—it leans into God’s promises even when nothing in the landscape suggests fulfillment is near. Biblical hope does not pretend all is well; it clings to God when all appears lost.

We often speak as though hope depends on our ability to hold on tightly enough. But Advent reverses the image. Hope is an anchor—something outside of us that secures and steadies us when currents threaten to pull us away. It is not the strength of our grip that saves us, but the strength of the One who anchors us.

Mary embodied this. A teenager with questions, fears, and a future no one would fully understand—yet she trusted that the God who called her would sustain her. Joseph, bewildered and torn between shame and obedience, was held by a hope greater than his confusion. The Magi traveled on nothing but hope—trusting that their long journey would lead them to a King worth worshiping.

Hope is not passive waiting; it is faithful movement. It is making decisions, taking steps, and living generously under the conviction that God is up to more than we can see. It steadies us when news feels bleak, when division grows deep, when injustice persists, when prayers feel unanswered.

Where do you need hope to hold you? Hope refuses to let despair be the final word. It sustains, strengthens, and directs. Anchors do their work beneath the surface—hidden, unseen, sometimes unnoticed. Yet they hold the vessel secure.

During Advent, we rehearse this truth: God is faithful, and hope is not fragile. The One we wait for is already at work, drawing near, steadying us even before Christmas morning dawns. We are anchored not in wishful thinking but in the incarnate God who has entered all that is broken to redeem it.

Let hope hold you today. Release the pressure to be strong enough. Hope is stronger than you.

Prayer

God of steadfast hope, anchor our hearts in Your faithfulness. When we are tempted to drift toward fear or despair, draw us back to the certainty of Your promises. Teach us to trust not our grasp of You but Your grasp of us. Hold us when we cannot hold ourselves. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. Where in your life do you most feel the need for hope’s anchoring strength?

2. How is biblical hope different from mere optimism?

3. What step might you take today that expresses trust in God’s unseen work?