Singing Hope

For those of us who have watched The Shawshank Redemption, do you remember that scene when Andy locks himself in the Office and plays the opera duet over the loud speaker into the prisoners’ yard?

For those of us whose lives are the less for not having watched this movie, let me tell you about it. Set in a prison in the 1930s, a man – Andy Dufresne – is falsely convicted and imprisoned for life in Shawshank Prison, enduring indignity and violent abuse.

At one point in the movie, as scraps of hope occasionally seep into their lives, Andy plays one of the stunning opera duets from Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro from the warden’s office across the prison yard, at great personal risk. “I tell you, those voices soared, higher and farther than anyone in a grey place dares to dream … for the briefest of moments, every last man in Shawshank felt free.”

I remember leading worship in Dubbo during the drought in the early 1990s and there had been no rain for months.

I was leading a prayer early in the service, and there were sounds of rain on the slate tiles of the roof. Without a word being spoken, everyone in worship began to lift their heads and open their eyes, as hope found its way into the worship and our community.

What does hope sounds like?

In one of the stories in the Book of Acts, Silas and Paul are unjustly imprisoned and placed in the stocks. In the heart of their darkness they begin to pray and to sing. Perhaps we imagine a Wesleyan top ten, or one of the choruses that permeated youth camps, like Light up the fire. Probably not.

Their hope in Jesus transcended their darkness and their context; in one sense they sang their hope into life, by trusting that their faith was real.

Whatever they sang, they articulated their hope, like rain on a dry paddock. Lives were transformed, with fear, then with hope, as their gaoler discovered life in Jesus Christ.

What does hope sound like – in your life?

When we are in worship, or celebrating with friends, or sitting with those we love and who love us, we know what hope is. When we are doing the tasks which bless and encourage, when we are enacting our vocation to serve those in need of serving, we know what hope is.

When our lives have hiccoughs, when the day isn’t what we expect, or want, what does our hope look (and sound) like then? What song would you sing?

And when it falters, when darkness, even briefly, is your context, how will you speak of hope? To which song from your life would you turn?

I will trust that God’s promise to be God will not falter, that the light of God’s life in Jesus is always more than darkness, that the song of God is always more hope than whispers of denial and despair.

I will remember the God who calls me and loves me, who is present in those friends who care, forgive and bless.

And I will choose to believe that the story of God told in Jesus Christ is the only story in which I place my hope and find God’s hope already placed in me.