There is a world of difference between the idea of hope, and hope. We control freaks have a lot of trouble with this distinction and it sometimes, maybe always it takes the collapse of all means, desires and aims for hope to lift and transform.

Nearly three years ago my beautiful son, who filled a room when he entered with the love of life and love of people, suddenly died. Thank God for the numbness that follows such an event that slowly puts you down in a place where language ceases to be useful.

Wonderful people around me did all they could to support but they like me, found themselves in a place beyond the reach of language to serve any useful purpose. Some expressions of care through language were so awkward as to be unintentionally unhelpful. Mostly people settled for expressions that both they and I knew were lame but well intentioned. ‘If there is anything I can do’ is one of the most popular expressions from people who know well that there is nothing they can do to a person who cannot have the one thing they want.

My son had three young daughters and I would have given anything to jump into his grave if it would give him back to his family.

As my feet slowly hit the ground in the days and months that followed, I found that all my desires, lusts, goals and anticipations had died too. My primary goal was to honour the promise I made on his deathbed, to love his little girls.

This astonishing event happened as the buildings at The Wayside Chapel had been largely condemned and if it was to have a future, design for new buildings had to be right, planning authorities had to give consent, money had to be raised, consultants had to be appointed. We had to find 8 million dollars from a starting point of zero dollars.

On my way to one of the endless meetings to raise money, I set out from Wayside with a care factor of close to zero even though I was in a hurry. A homeless man who I didn’t know, stood awkwardly near the front door making my exit difficult. I looked at him to see if there was something I could quickly attend to and then be on my way. After a long and difficult silence, he threw his arms around me and kissed my cheek. He whispered into my ear, ‘that is from you son’.

That was the moment when I began to be less like a robot and hope for a better world started to animate my behaviour. Grief is a rollercoaster but its fair to say that as time passes, hope, which is normally thought of as an insubstantial matter looms as the most important matter in my life. Everything I know, I see as a subset of hope now.

All my theological wisdom looks a bit like piffle these days unless animated by hope.

I know that to hope for heaven today, is often seen as a denial for justice in this world but I’m finding just the opposite is true. I am empowered as never before to work for a better world because my grip on the many things that once concerned me too much is loosened.

I care little for financial security in my old age, I care little for where I live or what I drive. I care little whether I’m seen to be doing a good job or not. Once I would have given anything to be acknowledged as a cut above the average and now I’m free.

My hope is grounded in the belief that this life lasts only minutes. Even if I was to live into my nineties, that is only minutes away really. I love to sing,

‘It is better for me to go but to stay means fruitful labour’ is how it was expressed in our Sunday reading a couple of weeks ago.

The light shines brightest in dark places and when all my means had collapsed, hope was born for me. Perhaps the greatest evidence of hope, is my capacity to laugh at my own delusions of grandeur.

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