This past weekend my husband and I watched some old home movies—movies I don’t think we’d seen since we originally taped them (and I do mean tape; this was before the digital age). Initially we had all of the usual reactions: marveling at how much our kids had grown; how different the house looked; how old we feel in comparison to how young we looked on tape.
It left us with a mix of emotions, and having pondered it I think some of it resulted from the equation above, about potential and hope equaling expectations. Every parent sees potential in their newborn. Sometimes those hopes are realized; children can outdo our expectations. Of course the opposite is true, too—as my husband and I realized when we later learned how drastically Fragile X Syndrome would limit our oldest son.
Most of the time reality brings a mix of things from those hopes and expectations. We see our children outdo our hopes in some areas, and in others . . . not so much.
In some ways hope can be an enemy. If hope does lead to expectation, when those expectations aren’t met it can have devastating results—brought home every time we remember those hopes and compare them to reality. Or compare them to the experiences of others.
The publishing world can set us up this way, too. I’ve known several writers who have picked up the pen, and—at least retrospectively—gotten published with minimal rejection and heartache. Their first book went on to sell extremely well, making bestseller lists with ease. Like the parent whose child has outdone expectations, these experiences are just common enough to set the rest of us up for hopes that might not be realized. If we even achieve the platform—publication—we would be hard pressed to welcome a comparison between our experiences and theirs.
Strangely enough (or not so strangely if you believe how intimately God is involved in our lives) I was reading about John the Baptist in my morning devotional today. Do you recall how John boldly proclaimed Jesus to be the Messiah at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry? John said he wasn’t fit to tie Jesus’ sandals. While John baptized with water, Jesus would baptize with fire. But not too long after that, John was imprisoned and sent a message to Jesus asking if He really was the One—or should we expect another?
Perhaps you and I would have doubts, too, if we were in prison awaiting execution. Had everything in John’s life—calling attention to the coming Messiah—brought him here, to such a swift and useless end? Wasn’t the Messiah supposed to bring judgment and power? Instead Jesus preached forgiveness and right living.
John’s expectations were different from reality. His hope set him up for his last hour of doubt.
Jesus’ answer to John is the answer for all of us who’ve experienced deflated hope. Jesus reminded John of the miracles He’d done. In short, He reminded John of Who He was. If John wondered if his own ministry and life had meant anything at all, Jesus proved everything he’d done was right. John had answered the prophecy he’d been called to fulfill.
And that’s what we need to remember. We’re called to make a difference in this world, to use the passions, gifts and talents God gave us. The result might not be what we hope or expect, but those results are in God’s hands. And like John, we need to entrust it to God. He knows what He’s doing. All we need to do is listen to Him.
Anne Mateer says
So very true, Maureen. So why do we so often forget. Thanks for reminding me again today.
Maureen Lang says
I'm only reminding others what I must have needed to be reminded of myself…
🙂