Hope Beyond Mere Optimism
Living Christ's future into the present
Some might say that Christian hope is just wishful thinking, pie-in-the-sky spirituality disconnected from reality. Frederick Buechner uniquely reframes that accusation, owning it as an accurate perception of the nature of hope:
“Christianity is mainly wishful thinking. . . . Dreams are wishful thinking. Children playing at being grown-ups is wishful thinking. Interplanetary travel is wishful thinking. Sometimes wishing is the wings the truth comes true on. Sometimes the truth is what sets us wishing for it.”[1]
We may respond to those who accuse Christians about our hope being “wishful thinking” that perhaps there is a difference between a sort of blind optimism about the future and the wish-filled thinking in which true hope germinates with faith. Perhaps the reason we dream about such a thing being true is that the truth has birthed such a dream within us in the first place.
Real hope, in fact, is something altogether distinct from optimism. In his insightful book Hope Without Optimism, Terry Eagleton describes optimism as more than “high hopes,” but a sort of “quirk of temperament” that one cannot argue for or against.[2] In fact, “even when optimism acknowledges that the facts do not support it, its ebullience can remain undented.”[3] When we describe Christian hope, we are not talking about this sort of blind optimism that just somehow believes by dint of personality or outlook that everything will be okay or get better. Instead, the Christian lives within a deeper reality that gives birth to a more real and sustained hope. Unlike optimism that arises from within the human self, whether as a quirk of personality or as a chosen outlook, Christian hope arises from beyond us in Christ. As Paul writes:
“For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopesfor what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” (Romans 8:24–25)
The Christian lives in this hope that is real but not totally realized. Understanding the environment in which we live does not mean suddenly everything will change and bear fruit immediately. Beginning to know the soil in which we live—the place and geography—is, in one sense, never done and always evolving. Living amid a community with the intent to nurture life or foster kingdom life does not immediately bring fruitfulness that is visible. Simply grasping and giving well-considered attention to the stages and seasons of faith and life does not mean that all goes well. In all this, we continue over the long haul of life’s journey, doing what is required while trusting God in hope with the timing and results. Writing in reference to the various challenges of the contemporary era, Sallie McFague describes hope in a way that applies to our discussion of hope in this moment of our world:
“This is not a sentimental or romantic hope that things will turn out okay, but rather the faith that however they turn out, the world and all its creatures are held, kept, within God. . . . Having hope is a sign that we are already on our way.”[4]
Many Christians toil in the quiet and hidden places before anything happens. It is Christian hope that enables us to continue forward when there is no visible fruitfulness in the work, when it appears the church is in decline or others step away from their calling on the right and the left.
In his seminal work Theology of Hope, Jürgen Moltmann describes hope as linked to a reality that is beyond us. He writes:
“From first to last, and not merely in the epilogue, Christianity is eschatology, is hope, forward looking and forward moving, and therefore also revolutionizing and transforming the present.”[5]
Hope, then, is something that comes from beyond us, like what Emily Dickinson describes in her poem on this theme:
Hope is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all.[6]
As “the thing with feathers,” hope comes from beyond us to roost within our souls. This is different from mere optimism arising within us. In fact, Moltmann addresses the difference between a sort of optimism that looks toward the future based on past experience and true hope that reaches beyond our experience. Miroslav Volf summarizes Moltmann’s understanding of this difference as follows:
“Optimism has to do with good things in the future that are latent in the past and the present; the future associated with optimism—Moltmann calls it futurum—is an unfolding of what is already there. . . . Hope, on the other hand, has to do with good things in the future that come to us from ‘outside,’ from God; the future associated with hope—Moltmann calls it adventus—is a gift of something new.”[7]
Christian hope is not mere optimism based on previous cycles of human experience projected toward the future. While we learn from the past, the sort of hope Christians are invited to cling to is based on the future held in Christ now brought into our present. It is adventus hope, a desirous believing that God has broken into the present from beyond now. Christ’s incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection have happened, and, therefore, everything is changed. Even when optimism about the future fades and seems unjustified, hope rises up from another arena altogether. It comes from the glory of the empty tomb.
[This is an adapted excerpt from my forthcoming book The Pastor as Gardener: A Renewed Vision for Ministry which will be released on Eerdmans Publishers on March 24, 2026. You can find out more information about the book or preorder it here.]
[1] Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC (New York: Harper & Row, 1973), 96.
[2] Terry Eagleton, Hope Without Optimism (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2015), 2.
[3] Eagleton, Hope Without Optimism, 3.
[4] Sallie McFague, A New Climate for Theology: God, the World, and Global Warming (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2008), 171.
[5] Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope: On the Ground and the Implications of a Christian Eschatology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 16.
[6] Emily Dickinson, “‘Hope’ Is the Thing with Feathers,” Poetry Foundation, accessed February 20, 2025, https://tinyurl.com/42cb29my.
[7] Miroslav Volf, Public Faith: How Followers of Christ Should Serve the Common Good (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2011), 56.
Great post Matt. Thought provoking and comforting at once. Yes, our hope is from outside rather than projecting forward from other past positive experiences. It also is firmly grounded in reality that begins with the resurrection of Christ that really happened and essentially changed EVERYTHING for humanity going forward, at least for believers.
Wonderful distinction between adventus and futurum. The Eagleton framing of optimism as temperamental helps clarify why hope feels differnet when grounded theologically. I actually think this maps well onto how people navigate uncertainty in non-religious contexts too, where externally-grounded convictions end up being more durable than internal positivity. The emptytomb as source rather than projection is a powerful re-orientation.