Clinging to the Anchor of Hope

According to some statistics, you and I are living in a golden era of humanity. Compared to most of recent history, today’s average human is living longer, dying less violently, receiving a better education and living farther above the poverty line.

By nearly every conceivable metric of physical success, things are better today than they have been for a long time.

Modern medicine enables us to treat (and effectively eliminate) diseases that were once capable of destroying entire populations. Modern technology means that, with a few taps on a smartphone screen, we can easily accomplish tasks and access information in a way that would have either been impossible or required monumental effort just a few centuries ago.

And yet . . .

And yet when I look out at the state of the world, I don’t come away with a renewed sense of hope.

More often than not, I come away depressed.

A survey of the world

It doesn’t matter how many charts and graphs you show me—when I look out at the world, I don’t see 8 billion people trending toward utopia.

I see world leaders who are completely unable to broker any kind of meaningful peace between turbulent nations, who are either powerless or unwilling to root out the unfettered greed and incompetence undergirding their own political power structures, who are expending more energy to control the narrative than to solve actual problems.

I see a parade of worldviews, increasingly untethered from reality, demanding to be taken seriously, vilifying anyone who doesn’t immediately affirm and pledge support to whatever groundless delusion is on display.

I see more and more people clutching at their preconceived ideas and misconceptions, screaming to be heard and refusing to hear, jumping to conclusions and oversimplifying arguments when it suits them, calling for blood when the same is done to them.

I see conflicts that refuse to be resolved. I see good people dying too soon and wicked people living too long. I see self-destructive lifestyles being celebrated as beautiful and brave. I see reason and logic eroding. I see natural and man-made threats looming on the horizon. I see families struggling to stay financially afloat. I see lies and misinformation running rampant. I see social media replacing meaningful social interactions.

I see all this, I hear that the world is getting better, and I wonder:

This is it?

This is what getting better looks like?

This is what succeeding looks like?

If this is humanity realizing its potential, then I can’t find hope for the future by looking at the world.

Mercifully, I can find it by looking somewhere else.

The way that seems right

One of the fundamental tenets of the Bible is that, left to our own devices, humanity isn’t capable of making life work.

Oh, people can try—and they’ll certainly accomplish some impressive things along the way—but at the end of the day, “the way of man is not in himself; it is not in man who walks to direct his own steps” (Jeremiah 10:23).

And it’s not just that we don’t know the best way forward or that we’re not as efficient as we could be. It’s that even our best attempts will end only in failure. “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death” (Proverbs 14:12).

Our world was set on its present course around 6,000 years ago, when the first man and first woman disobeyed God and ate from the forbidden tree. Instead of living forever with their Creator, Adam and Eve received the promise that they would “surely die” (Genesis 2:17; compare 3:19).

This world that we’ve been building since the dawn of humanity—this global experiment of what happens when we do try to direct our own steps—can end only one way:

In failure and death.

Becoming purposeless for a purpose

The world can (and will) buffet us with waves of hopelessness, but our anchor of hope will keep us from drifting down those currents of despair. Paul wrote that “the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope” (Romans 8:20). The Greek word translated “futility” here can mean a “state of being without use or value” (A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, Third Edition).

By disobeying God, Adam and Eve brought the creation into a state of futility. What God had created for a very specific purpose was now purposeless—and He allowed it to become that way.

Why?

Paul says that God subjected it to futility in hope. He had a plan for its future.

Paul’s letter to the Romans fills in the rest of the gaps for us. The creation “eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God” (verse 19). This is an exceptionally important key to the puzzle. The creation, currently subjected to hopeful futility, “will be delivered from the bondage of corruption [or ‘slavery to decay,’ Common English Bible] into the glorious liberty of the children of God” (verse 21).

This is our hope: not just that God could rescue His decaying creation, but that He will rescue it—that He is actively involved in a plan that will set things right.

And you and I?

We get to be part of it.

Revealing the children of God

“The children of God.”

That’s us. Or, at least, that’s what we have the potential to become. “But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God” (John 1:12). We are to believe His message, obey His instructions and think and act as He does.

As physical human beings living in a decaying creation filled with billions of people trying to direct their own steps and follow their own ways, we have the priceless hope that comes from knowing God’s plan for the future:

“For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body. For we were saved in this hope, but hope that is seen is not hope; for why does one still hope for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with perseverance” (Romans 8:22-25).

Hope as an anchor

For Christians, this hope is meant to be more than a nice thought we can reflect on from time to time. It’s a hope based on a promise so certain, so definite, so unshakable that we are willing to live our lives as if it’s already come to pass.

The author of the book of Hebrews called our shared hope “an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast” (Hebrews 6:19).

An anchor is not an afterthought, but a lifeline.

The hope God gives us is an anchor for the core of our being.

The world can (and will) buffet us with waves of hopelessness, but our anchor of hope will keep us from drifting down those currents of despair. When we know God’s plan—when we know what He’s doing, when we know why we’re here—we have access to an anchor strong enough and secure enough to see us through any and every trial.

That’s not to say that any of it will be easy.

It’s hard to look out at the more hopeless elements of the world—hard to live in it and experience it firsthand—but our anchor is designed to keep us connected to the incredible hope of what’s coming.

Whether we lose jobs, friends or loved ones—whether we’re ridiculed, maligned or mistreated—whatever the shape and size of our hardships, we know that this life is worth it because of what’s coming.

We are called to be children of God.

We are called to both inherit and restore this world, working alongside God to do what no human being has the power to accomplish today:

To make a better future not just a hope, but a reality.

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. For the earnest expectation of the creation eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God” (Romans 8:18-21).

What’s coming is beautiful and perfect and guaranteed to make even the worst moments of this life pale in comparison to its absolute splendor.

That reality isn’t here yet—but it’s coming.

And it starts with an anchor.

Learn more in our free booklet Finding Hope in a Hopeless World.