During my first 6-month rotation as a Chaplain Resident, I was assigned to a psychiatric unit.  My supervisor was doing double-duty as an interim department lead, and since we had worked together in the unit during an earlier Internship, she said, “You know your way around.  Go on over and get started”.  As a local church minister, jumping into a situation “cold turkey” was not a problem.  But this was different than church.  I was a part of an interdisciplinary team of providers, including psychiatrists, psychologists, doctors, physician assistants, nurses, dieticians, pharmacists, activity directors and social workers.  My patients (whom we called “residents”) were receiving acute care.  Some had underlying mental illnesses.  Others battled substance abuse.  The majority had expressed some level of suicidal ideation, prompting their admission. 

Scrolling ahead to the completion of my rotation, I can now say I treasure my time in the psychiatric unit as a life-changing experience.  I was blessed by the relationships I formed with my team and residents.  And I gained amazing insights into life, faith and the circumstances that can push any of us to the breaking point.            

This brings me to the subject of hope.  As a Christian, my ultimate hope is in my Savior, Jesus.  He cancelled my sins on the cross of Calvary, and because He conquered death, I have the promise of eternal life.  Regardless of the trouble this world dishes out, I find strength in knowing I belong to Jesus.  I concur with the words of the Apostle Paul who spoke of the mystery of “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:17). 

However, as sure as I am of this faith foundation, I have found it is possible to have a relationship with Jesus along with the eternal hope He supplies and still feel hopeless in the here and now.  I now have a keener understanding of why, through my years of church ministry, some faithful believers confessed feelings of doubt and fear when they were journeying through a personal storm.  They faced spiritual confusion on one hand while clinging fiercely to their faith in Jesus on the other. 

I have considered the last days of John the Baptist who, while rotting away in prison, sent messengers to Jesus to confirm that He was the Messiah.  This is a perplexing passage, especially when we consider John was the one who announced that Jesus was “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”  Jesus instructed the messengers to return and tell John what they had “seen and heard” as evidence of His identity and power (John 7:22).  What was going on with John?  Had he left the faith?  Hardly.  But I think he was losing hope.  “How is this possible?” you might ask.  How can someone have faith in Jesus and lose hope?    

I pondered one answer to this question when it became apparent to me that many who expressed suicidal ideation had experienced a recent break in a relationship.  This included, but was not limited to the loss of a loved one, the end of a relationship or even the death of a pet.  There were other contributing factors such as a serious illness, the loss of meaning and purpose, abandonment by adult figures, financial upheaval, addictive behaviors and legal struggles. But in the present, it was the loss of an important source of emotional support that sent them spiraling downward.   This may help explain why John the Baptist was in crisis.  He evidently had some contact with his disciples, but we can only imagine how depressing it was to be largely cut off from others. 

The bottom line is that, while we need to know the specific details of our hope, whether it be our hope of salvation and eternal life in Jesus, the prospects of physical healing, financial security or restored relationships, the “sense” of hope that often brings us through our darkest hours is most often felt through the presence of others.  This is why we fall into the arms of our church family, loved ones or friends when they respond to a crisis in our lives.  This is also why I didn’t have to have years of chaplaincy experience in a psychiatric unit to provide care for my residents, some still bearing bandages from self-inflicted wounds.  What they needed most was someone to sit with them, because the presence of others reminded them that they were not alone.

As I reflect on the word “presence” and its relationship to hope, I consider how the appearance of Jesus in human flesh brought hope to a weary world.  I recall His name “Emmanuel” which means “God with us.”  I think of the shepherd on the hillside who calmed the shepherds’ fears by telling them a Savior had been born in the city of David, and how they traveled to stand in His presence.  The earthly presence of Jesus is a thread that weaves through the gospels, from the mount where He taught, to the streets where He healed.  Mary Magdalene cried out “Rabboni”! when she recognized He was with her, alive, at the tomb.  And we listen to one of the disciples who met Jesus on the road to Emmaus as he proclaimed, “Didn’t our hearts burn within us on the road when He opened the scriptures to us?” 

As I had already noted, we need more than a “sense” of hope to sustain us.  But I also believe we can possess real hope and still feel hopeless because we lack the presence of others who care.  Yes, Jesus gave us the Holy Spirit to comfort and guide, but He also gave us each other.  He put His church on earth as His Body to provide a collective presence for believers.

When you find yourself with people who are hurting, scared, angry or grieving, don’t worry about what to say or do.  Chances are they don’t need you do say or do much at all.  What they need most is your presence.  If you are a believer low on hope, please continue to remind yourself of God’s promises, and cling to the assurance of your salvation.  But I encourage you to also be open to those you trust who are attempting to reach out to you in your distress.  Don’t be afraid to let them sit with you and don’t feel guilty about the darkness that has invaded your world.  Feelings of hopelessness aren’t always a sign we have no hope.  We might just lack someone to share it with.