Holding onto hope

19/11/2024

‘Hope is being able to see that there is light, despite all of the darkness.’ (Desmond Tutu)

A struggle I encounter existentially and in conversations with so many colleagues and clients at the moment is how to hold onto hope. Look at the news headlines and story after story of things going wrong. Not just small things but potentially world-ending things like climate disaster or nuclear war. The sense of overwhelm that this can create, along with a sense of complete powerlessness to change anything on that macro scale, can lead to feelings of deep despair.

One option is to turn off the TV and social media news feed. It’s a bit like burying our head in the proverbial sand or sticking our fingers in our ears and singing, ‘La, la, la’. To be honest, on the mental health front, this kind of withdrawal can prove helpful and life-giving, at least for a while. After all, why burn ourselves out mentally, emotionally and physically for things over which we have zero influence anyway? Better, perhaps, to engage in mindfulness. Pause, breathe...relax.

Except I’ve tried that and it doesn’t work for me. ‘I can’t close my eyes and make it go away.’ (U2) I’ve had to find a different way, and I’m still trying. German theologian Jürgen Moltmann wrote, ‘Hell is hopelessness.’ The need for hope is buried deep in the human psyche and the human condition. I find hope in Jesus and in taking action in my own small spheres of influence. I’m with Greenpeace on this: ‘The optimism of the action is better than the pessimism of the thought.’

How do you find and hold onto hope?

14 Comments

Faye Lewis

20/11/2024 03:10:45 pm

Hi Nick. This post deeply resonates. I find Jürgen Moltmann’s concept of “hell as hopelessness” striking because it reflects how I’ve felt at my lowest. One turning point came during the pandemic. Staring at the walls of my apartment, I began to feel utterly powerless until I started helping out at a food bank. It was a simple act, but the gratitude from people I helped was transformative.

I realised hope isn’t passive; it’s something we generate by engaging with others and creating small, meaningful impacts. To me, this ties into your quote about the “optimism of action.” By stepping into small acts of change, we build something bigger, hope that sustains, despite the darkness we may face collectively.

Nick Wright

20/11/2024 09:58:24 pm

Thanks Faye. Well done for helping out at the food bank. Yes, doing small acts of kindness can bring happiness and hope to others, as well as create and reinforce a sense of purpose in our own lives too.

Vanessa Roberts

20/11/2024 03:29:45 pm

Hi Nick. Your reflections on hope stirred a vivid memory from my childhood. I was around ten, hiking in the woods with my parents. At some point, I got separated from them, lost in an endless maze of trees. The canopy was so dense that sunlight barely filtered through. Panic consumed me until I spotted a single shaft of light piercing the darkness. It led me to a clearing, where my family waited.

Now, as an adult, that moment often comes back to me when I’m overwhelmed by the state of the world. It reminds me that hope isn’t always abundant or obvious; it can be just a glimmer. For me, hope shows up in fleeting moments such as laughter with a friend, planting a garden or supporting someone in need.

The darkness still looms, but I hold onto those shafts of light. They guide me, reminding me that no matter how overwhelming things seem, there’s always something to hold onto. Perhaps hope doesn’t need to erase despair entirely. Maybe it just needs to coexist with it, a faint light helping us take one more step forward.

20/11/2024 10:03:13 pm

Thank you, Vanessa, for sharing such deep reflections from that personal experience of light at such an early age, and how it has sustained you and provided a source of hope since then. On that theme, this short related piece may resonate too? https://www.nick-wright.com/blog/light

Tim McPheat

20/11/2024 03:34:01 pm

Your blog is compelling, though I find myself grappling with some of its assumptions. You quote Jürgen Moltmann’s "Hell is hopelessness," which feels apt, but I would argue that hope itself needs action to stay alive. Without action, hope can become passive and stagnant, a vague feeling that doesn’t lead to change.

I experienced this during the 2020 Covid lockdowns. Initially, I felt paralyzed by the endless waves of bad news. At some point, though, I started volunteering with a neighbourhood group delivering groceries to vulnerable residents. It wasn’t glamorous or world-changing but it was meaningful. Through those simple actions, I began to feel connected again to my community, to a sense of purpose and to the idea that even small actions can create ripples of positivity.

In contrast, I’ve tried mindfulness practices like breathing exercises and detaching from the news and while those techniques helped me rest, they didn’t inspire me to hope. Hope, for me, needs momentum. It’s born out of doing something, even something small, that shifts the needle in a positive direction.

Your point about finding hope in “Jesus and small spheres of influence” strikes a chord for me. Perhaps we share this: the belief that while we can’t fix the world overnight, we can plant seeds of hope, one action at a time.

20/11/2024 10:08:13 pm

Thanks Tim. 'We can plant seeds of hope, one action at a time.' I love that. Thanks too for sharing that experience of volunteer work that demonstrated hope in action. Actually, Jürgen Moltmann would agree with you on that point. He goes on to say:

'Those who hope in Christ can no longer put up with reality as it is, but begin to suffer under it and to oppose it...Because I believe in eternal life I shall be active for the life of the people. Because I hope in the resurrection I shall take part in the revolt of the people against deadly oppressive powers.'

Adele Hayes

20/11/2024 03:46:23 pm

Hi Nick. I’ve felt that hopelessness too when I read the news. For me, planting a few fruit trees in my back garden has been therapeutic. It’s a small, positive act that reminds me growth is still possible, even in the face of overwhelming challenges.

20/11/2024 10:10:18 pm

Hi Adele. Thank you for sharing that personal experience of hopelessness and the therapeutic act that has helped you. Interestingly, I spoke with a good friend last week who said he, too, is planting fruit plants in an allotment as a way of focusing on something positive in the midst of macro-helplessness.

Karen Collier

20/11/2024 03:59:28 pm

Hey Nick. Your post hit home. I felt that despair earlier this year while doomscrolling through climate news. One day, I decided to bake cookies for my elderly neighbor, a small, random act. Seeing her joy reminded me how little moments of kindness can spark hope. While I can’t solve global issues, I’ve learned I can brighten someone’s world, even briefly. That small difference helps me hold onto hope.

20/11/2024 10:14:08 pm

Thank you, Karen. That sounds like another great example of doing something positive for someone else, and how seeing others' joy sparks hope. It reminded me of this experience I once had along similar lines: https://www.nick-wright.com/blog/small-things-with-great-love

Dr Colin Ragowski

20/11/2024 04:08:44 pm

Thank you for sharing such a heartfelt post.

The struggle to find hope touches me deeply, especially in times like these with nuclear threats over Ukraine. I’m reminded of a moment from a few years ago when my city was hit by severe flooding. It felt apocalyptic with entire neighborhoods submerged, families displaced, and the weight of the crisis overwhelming everyone.

I remember feeling paralyzed, thinking, *What could I possibly do?* Then, I joined a local group organizing relief efforts. My role wasn’t grand; I sorted donated clothes and packed food boxes. But the energy of working alongside others, all trying to help in whatever way they could, was transformative. It reminded me that hope isn’t something that just appears; it’s something we create together.

That lesson stuck with me. These days, when I’m bombarded with bleak headlines, I remind myself that I can’t change the world’s trajectory on my own. But I *can* create small ripples in my own corner. Whether it’s mentoring someone, cleaning up a local park, or donating to a cause I care about, these actions remind me that light still exists, even amidst the darkness.

Your quote from Desmond Tutu is powerful because it speaks to this truth. Light doesn’t erase the dark, but it gives us a direction. I’ve also found hope in collective action, like joining environmental clean-up efforts or community workshops. These moments remind me of the resilience and creativity within humanity - a spark that refuses to be extinguished.

So, I hold onto that spark. I nurture it through small, deliberate actions and by surrounding myself with people who inspire and uplift. Hope, I’ve learned, isn’t just a feeling; it’s a practice, a discipline, and sometimes even a defiant choice to believe in light.

20/11/2024 10:21:26 pm

'A spark that refuses to be extinguished.' 'A defiant choice to believe in light.' Wow - thank you, Colin, for expressing that so poetically and so powerfully. It's great that you have found so many positive and practical ways to engender and hold onto hope. I was particularly struck by your reflections on creation of hope as a collective endeavour. Very inspiring!

Your mention of the severe flooding that felt apocalyptic reminded me of these brief accounts from the Philippines:

https://www.nick-wright.com/blog/epicentre
https://www.nick-wright.com/audacity.html

Hans Vogel

21/11/2024 05:14:44 am

You believe what you want to belive. It’s fantasy not real.

21/11/2024 12:10:00 pm

Hi Hans. Yes, in terms of my faith in Jesus, I do believe what I want to believe. I can't imagine anyone more amazing and inspiring to follow and give my life to. There is, however, no necessary relationship between what I want to believe and what is real and true. Nevertheless, I have good reasons to believe that what I believe is real and true