Perhaps real, dirty, muscular, dogged hope only comes to us after soul-crushing despair. Only if we have tasted that despair, only if we have known the deep sadness of unfulfilled dreams and promises, the weight of injustice and wounding, only if we dared to look reality in the face and name it for what it is - name it sin, name it evil, name it broken, name it demonic - can we dare to begin to imagine a better way. Hope is subversive precisely because it dares to admit that all is not as it should be. We dare to believe it could be different - this is hope. Even our anger is hope. Our grief is hope. Hope for something - for us, for this world - to be restored. And so we are holding out for, working for, creating, prophesying, and living into something better - for the kingdom to come, for oaks of righteousness to tower, for leaves to blossom for the healing of the nations, for swords to be beaten into plowshares, for joy to come in the morning, for redemption and for justice. And even for the possibility, the hope, that someday women's voices and experiences and personhood will be valued, honoured, and even...believed. - Sarah Bessey
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