God, the Tightening Hope

I confess to reading, over Christmas vacation, before bed and after playing with assorted grandchildren, a couple of Harry Potter books. I know. I’m terribly late to the party. Harry has been around for quite awhile, maturing in print and on the screen with all his secret wizardly gifts.

I came away from J.K Rowling’s fictional world with a couple of thoughts. One was the nagging question of what it would be like to hide under a disappearing cloak, discharge sparks from a wand, or go back in time. But that’s what happens with a story. It drags you in and carries you along, regardless of how unrealistic it may seem from the outset.

Another thing was this: Harry wore me out. During the summer his world was filled with oppressive guardians, and during the school term with spells, confrontations, sleepless nights, cantankerous spirits, and certain classmates and teachers bent on disgracing him. Then there was the ongoing challenge he faced of sorting out which aquantances were good and which were not. First appearances weren’t always correct. So for Harry it was one trial after another, seemingly 24/7. Wizards, I thought, must be inexhaustible. Harry was ADD on Starbucks.

As non-wizardly humans we risk not so much being worn out as worn down. The evening news alone is enough to lead one into despair. What if Iran gets the bomb? What if the terrorists sneak through? What if the economy continues to crumble, the Democrats (or Republicans) remain in office, the globe warms, the DaVinci Code is true, or planets collide?

Christians aren’t immune to anxiety and despair. The things that mislead us most frequently are poverty-stricken interpretations of scripture, the ones suggesting that God makes certain promises and then fails to follow through. As one author points out, “The prosperity gospel, which promises that material prosperity will come to the faithful, may have contributed to the economic crisis. Sermons on the hope of divine blessing have encouraged people to take financial risks, like signing on to subprime mortgages and tapping out their credit cards. In some instances, banks preyed on poor people through the church: pastors invited loan officers to speak at wealth-building seminars, and in exchange the banks would give $350 to the church for each mortgage taken out.”[1]

My personal hunch is that the pastors who encouraged these investments got a cut. They aren’t hurting with their own mortgages now. Personal financial prosperity? Scriptural assurance goes in a different direction: “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.” (Romans 5:1-2)

God’s promises have little to do with personal wealth and a lot to do with relationships - first, with our relationship with the Lord, and second, our relationships with one another. To be at peace with God is the overwhelming promise, and the certain assurance, of the Gospel. In the meantime we are called to confront the desire to take advantage of others, financially or otherwise. When it comes to both greed and despair, God is agin 'em. Or as John Shea puts it in the poem "A Prayer to the God Who Will Not Go Away,"

Lord,
you are the poetry of wordless lives,
the salting of tasteless purposes,
the reminder that we are more than
the sinking spiral of the dying sparrow …
you are the tightening hope
that someone has stretched a net
beneath this high wire act of ours.[2]

[1] Hanna Rosin, cited in “Mixed Blessings,” The Christian Century, January 12, 2010, p. 8.
[2] Shea, John, The Hour of the Unexpected, 1992, p. 57.