First Monday of Advent: Carrying Hope
Those who sow with tears
will reap with songs of joy.
Those who go out weeping,
carrying seed to sow,
will return with songs of joy,
carrying sheaves with them.
—Psalm 126:5-6
Have you ever held hope for someone else? Sometimes, that’s all we can do.
Recently, I sat with a student-athlete sidelined by an injury, grieving both his physical setback and the painful delay in reuniting with family members. I also listened as a young man shared his sister’s fears as she navigates single parenthood. And just moments ago, I learned a colleague is making the heartbreaking choice to remove life support for their spouse after years of decline.
In these moments, words fall short.
I don’t want to diminish their grief with hollow reassurances or offer a “better day to come” when hope feels like a shadow. What I can do is simply be present and weep with them—not in pity, but in the solidarity of knowing that this is not how it’s supposed to be. My tears are not a solution, but they soften the ground on which we stand, making space for seeds of hope to take root, even in the ache of waiting.
So I hold hope for them, just as one day I may need them to hold it for me.
I hold hope for them, so they can continue to sow seeds of a kingdom that sometimes feels distant, like a fairytale, but one I know to be true. I hold hope so that when the time comes, they can have the space to hear the heartbeat of Christ and feel the comfort of His embrace, to smell the sweet aroma of the Spirit’s presence, and to taste and see that the Lord is good.
Even as we weep together, the beautiful mystery of God’s timing begins to unfold. The injured athlete’s teammate celebrates a breakthrough season, and they are able to share in that joy. The young man whose sister feels afraid starts to imagine his role as a “funcle” (fun uncle!) and the love he’ll bring to her and her child. And moments after my colleague’s loss, we receive news that another colleague has given birth to a healthy baby boy.
Sorrow and joy intermingle, sometimes in the very same moment, reminding us that God’s goodness holds them both.
Our tears may not reap immediate joy, and our weeping may continue for many seasons, but the truth is, we live in a world where we need each other to carry hope until the time of harvest comes. We hold hope for each other—like seeds that, though buried, will one day break through the soil and yield a harvest of joy.
This Advent, can you hold hope for someone who needs it, or will you let someone else hold it for you until joy arrives? The promise of this season is that, though we sow with tears, we will return one day with songs of joy and sheaves in hand.
Let us trust that our hope, held in faith and love, will become joy when the waiting gives way to God’s perfect timing.
—Geraud Brumfield reaches out to students at Fresno Pacific University, Fresno City College, and California State University, Fresno through a partnership with First Presbyterian Church, Fresno.
will reap with songs of joy.
Those who go out weeping,
carrying seed to sow,
will return with songs of joy,
carrying sheaves with them.
—Psalm 126:5-6
Have you ever held hope for someone else? Sometimes, that’s all we can do.
Recently, I sat with a student-athlete sidelined by an injury, grieving both his physical setback and the painful delay in reuniting with family members. I also listened as a young man shared his sister’s fears as she navigates single parenthood. And just moments ago, I learned a colleague is making the heartbreaking choice to remove life support for their spouse after years of decline.
In these moments, words fall short.
I don’t want to diminish their grief with hollow reassurances or offer a “better day to come” when hope feels like a shadow. What I can do is simply be present and weep with them—not in pity, but in the solidarity of knowing that this is not how it’s supposed to be. My tears are not a solution, but they soften the ground on which we stand, making space for seeds of hope to take root, even in the ache of waiting.
So I hold hope for them, just as one day I may need them to hold it for me.
I hold hope for them, so they can continue to sow seeds of a kingdom that sometimes feels distant, like a fairytale, but one I know to be true. I hold hope so that when the time comes, they can have the space to hear the heartbeat of Christ and feel the comfort of His embrace, to smell the sweet aroma of the Spirit’s presence, and to taste and see that the Lord is good.
Even as we weep together, the beautiful mystery of God’s timing begins to unfold. The injured athlete’s teammate celebrates a breakthrough season, and they are able to share in that joy. The young man whose sister feels afraid starts to imagine his role as a “funcle” (fun uncle!) and the love he’ll bring to her and her child. And moments after my colleague’s loss, we receive news that another colleague has given birth to a healthy baby boy.
Sorrow and joy intermingle, sometimes in the very same moment, reminding us that God’s goodness holds them both.
Our tears may not reap immediate joy, and our weeping may continue for many seasons, but the truth is, we live in a world where we need each other to carry hope until the time of harvest comes. We hold hope for each other—like seeds that, though buried, will one day break through the soil and yield a harvest of joy.
This Advent, can you hold hope for someone who needs it, or will you let someone else hold it for you until joy arrives? The promise of this season is that, though we sow with tears, we will return one day with songs of joy and sheaves in hand.
Let us trust that our hope, held in faith and love, will become joy when the waiting gives way to God’s perfect timing.
—Geraud Brumfield reaches out to students at Fresno Pacific University, Fresno City College, and California State University, Fresno through a partnership with First Presbyterian Church, Fresno.