What is hope?

Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible.  Helen Keller

Hope is a wish or a confidence. It is also an expectation for something that we consider possible. 

"But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience." Romans 8:25

"You are my hiding place and my shield; I hope in your word." Psalm 119:114 

When I was little, every Christmas revolved around one fervent wish: a bright, gleaming scooter. I pleaded for it year after year, convinced my mother would one day recognize how completely I needed that scooter—how nothing else could possibly compare.

But when Christmas morning came, the scooter never did. Instead, I unwrapped paint‑by‑numbers kits, new underwear, dolls with tiny wardrobes, wooden toys lovingly crafted by my uncle, and tangerines tucked into my stocking. I was grateful—but also crushed. My hope was dashed so many Decembers in a row that I eventually stopped asking…or simply outgrew the dream.

Still, the longing never vanished. Decades later—well into my 50s—I bought an electric bike with a built‑in scooter mode. The moment I rolled onto the driveway, I erupted in laughter and praise: God finally heard my childhood prayer! I spun circles while my bewildered husband looked on, wondering what miracle had just unfolded.

Hope & Faith

Hope is the daring wish we cradle in our hearts, the confident expectation that something good can happen even when we don't yet see it. Faith goes a step further: it's the deep‑down assurance that what we asked for will happen. Sometimes that assurance settles over me like a quiet knowing—so certain I can practically feel it in my bones.

Take my twenties, for instance. I sent a book proposal to Doubleday—one of the biggest publishing houses of the day—though everyone insisted the odds were "slim to none." I refused to accept that. Two weeks after mailing my packet, a calm certainty rose up inside me: They're going to buy it. I told my boss I'd soon resign, purchased a secondhand electric typewriter, and waited.

Four weeks later, Doubleday's letter arrived: Yes, we want your book.

Hope had paired with faith, and faith bore fruit. That moment changed my life.

Of course, I don't always receive such crystal‑clear assurance. Sometimes I simply hope, believe, and watch to see what God will do. Yet when that unshakable knowing comes, I can bank on it—because God always comes through.

Still, prayer isn't a magic wand, and Jesus isn't a divine vending machine. We don't get everything we ask for; we receive what aligns with His will and wisdom. He sifts our requests and grants what is truly best. King David modeled this beautifully: he prayed, waited expectantly, and scanned the horizon for God's answer. That's how I want to live—hoping, believing, and watching for the moment when heaven's "yes" finally rolls into view.