Advent Musing: Hope

Image by Soojin Hyun

Scripture: Isaiah 2:1-5, NRSV

The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.

In days to come the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established as the highest of the mountains and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it.

Many peoples shall come and say, "Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths." For out of Zion shall go forth instruction and the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.

He shall judge between the nations and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation; neither shall they learn war any more.

O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the LORD!

Advent Musing: Hope

by Rev. Sungrae Kim

Do you wake up with hope?

I’d like to invite you to pause for a moment and think about your morning routine. How do you wake up? What is the first thing you usually do? I imagine that on some days you rise feeling fully charged and ready to go - like a scene in a movie when the morning sunlight gently shines through the windows, you slowly open your eyes with a tender smile, and you stretch your arms wide to welcome the new day. You’re filled with hope: It’s going to be a good day! Maybe some of us start the morning like this - at least once in a while.

However, in reality, most of us probably begin the morning by making an unpleasant sound that comes from deep within our weary souls. It may be a sigh, a groan, or even a muttered complaint. It may sound like “ugh,” “oof,” “yoisho”, or “Oh, shoot… late again.” Then the first thing we do is to find the device our lives depend on: the smartphone. If it’s not on the nightstand, not fully charged, the day is ruined before it even begins.

So, yes, in a sense, “Do you wake up with hope?” might sound like a ridiculous question. What does that even mean? Who actually wakes up with hope? Also, we must remember that our mornings do not unfold in isolation; they are shaped by the world we inhabit. When the news we watched last night told of dying children in Palestine, immigrants and unhoused neighbors losing their social benefits, or yet another horrific mess shooting - how can we possibly wake up with hope? When we consider the suffering around us, hope itself can feel inconsiderate or even irresponsible.

Nevertheless, the question is meant to invite a deeper reflection. It leads us to ask: as people of faith, are we living with the hope we find in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ? And not only living with that hope - are we practicing it? Do we wake with it, walk with it, and end our day grounded in it?

As we enter this season of Advent, we are invited to reflect on the meaning of hope through the birth of Jesus Christ. What kind of hope does he bring to the world? What hope did those in the first century discover when they encountered him? And what hope can we reclaim today by remembering his coming?

Biblical scholars explain that Isaiah 2:1–5 comes from a prophecy delivered in the 8th century BCE, when Assyria was expanding aggressively and both Israel and Judah were struggling to survive politically. In Judah, King Uzziah’s economic and military growth had given way to arrogance and social inequality—the rich exploiting the poor. By the time of King Ahaz, Judah faced an existential threat as Israel and Aram attempted to force them into an anti-Assyrian alliance.

In short, the people who first heard Isaiah’s prophecy lived under leaders full of pride and under nations around them full of the threat of war. Some leaders argued that it was time for war. Yet the prophet Isaiah spoke a radically different vision to a people living in fear and confusion: God’s will for them was not to prepare for war, but to walk in the light of the Lord.

“He shall judge between the nations and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation; neither shall they learn war any more. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the LORD!”

The Word of God delivered by the prophet Isaiah was not merely a distant promise that someday, somehow, there would be no more war. If that were the meaning, then we - living in 2025 - would still be waiting for that day, and by now we know that we won’t be able to see such a day while we’re living on earth. Today, it seems every nation believes that the only path to peace is to build more weapons. Military dominance has become the most accepted strategy for preventing conflict. This is what we call deterrence - peace through strength. So should we dismiss Isiah’s vision as naïve, ineffective, or even foolish?

The heart of Isaiah’s message is not naïveté; it is a challenge. This vision is not a prediction but a vocation. It calls us to change our course and reshape our minds and hearts now, so that we might walk in the light of the Lord in the world we are living in. I believe God’s call to the people of the 8th century BCE could be paraphrased this way:

“Stop making weapons to kill others. Make more tools to feed your neighbors. Do not listen to those waging war. Listen to me, my people. Do not pour your time, energy, and precious resources into making things that destroy life. Use your hands to create what sustains life.”

Just as Isaiah’s audience lived under political tension, military threats, and moral confusion, so do we. And I believe God is telling us the same today.

Those who witnessed Jesus’ birth, life, death, and resurrection discovered that he embodied this very vision of hope. The first Christians believed that Jesus was the light that Isaiah spoke of. They were convinced that Jesus was the one who had come to “arbitrate for many peoples,” to beat their swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks, just as the ancient prophet had proclaimed eight centuries earlier. Though he was the King of Kings, he was not born in a palace, but in a stable and laid in a manger. He proclaimed the Jubilee—the year of the Lord’s favor—by healing the sick, restoring sight to the blind, casting out evil spirits, and feeding the hungry. He taught the people to turn from violence toward peace in the Sermon on the Mount and reminded them that they were called to be the salt and light of the world.

A powerful example of this appears in the Garden of Gethsemane. When Peter lifted his sword and struck the high priest’s servant, cutting off his ear, Jesus rebuked him and healed the servant. He rejected violent messianism and revealed God’s kingdom through healing, not harm. People found hope in him because he lived hope—daily, intentionally, courageously.

Hope is not wishful thinking. Hope is something we practice. It is something we cultivate, plant, and harvest. It is something we choose even in times of fear and confusion.

Even when the world seems to be falling apart, we recommit ourselves to using our hands to turn swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks.

So, how can we practice hope every day?

There is one small practice I recently began. When I used to wake my children, I would flip on the lights and rush them to get ready for school. I became, unintentionally, the bearer of bad news—the first harsh sound of their morning. My wife has always been gentler and more patient.

Learning from her, I have begun to help them start the day with hope. I sit beside them and say softly, “Good morning, honey. It’s going to be a good day.” I want the first sound they hear each morning to be a voice of hope. And in offering that gift to them, I find myself reminded that I, too, can plant hope in the world today. It is a small act, but I find myself starting the morning much better these days. And I can hope that my children will plant more hope for the world than I do.

Maybe it’s unrealistic to wake up with hope every morning. But we can still choose to practice hope with what we have, where we are, with the people entrusted to our care. Even when we cannot see the hope, we can still make tools for hope for the next generation.

May we begin - and continue - to practice hope in this holy season of Advent, not only for ourselves, but for one another, and the world God so loves. 

Reflection Questions:

• How do you wake up these days? What is the first sound or feeling that rises in you each morning?

  
  

• What simple, daily practice might help you cultivate hope in your own heart during this season?

  
  

• What “swords and spears” in your life - attitudes, habits, worries, or reactions - might God be inviting you to reshape into tools that nurture life?

  
  

  What hopes do you carry for the world today? And what small action could you take this week to plant a seed of that hope?

Song of Reflection: Light Has Come

Words by Iris A. Law

Music by Rev. Sungrae Kim