I spend a good deal of my energy avoiding disappointment or distracting myself from it (cue subtle nod to Netflix, Instagram, etc.). We live an age of cynicism, and the world is not friendly to dreamers and idealists. We may all love Ted Lasso, but we know that type of hope is reserved for sitcoms. And yet, hope is supposed to be a distinctive marker of followers of Jesus. How is this possible in the terrifying world we find ourselves?
We humans are narrative creatures. We try to make sense of people and events by plugging them into some cohesive story. But we’re not just content to know the story of the past or present. We have an insatiable desire to know the end of the story.