Lend Me Your Hope for a While

Neil T. Anderson in his book Victory Over the Darkness relates this poem, both poignant and anonymous:​

Lend me your hope for a while,
I seem to have misplaced mine.
Lost and hopeless feelings accompany me daily,
pain and confusion are my companions.
I know not where to turn;
looking ahead to future times does not bring forth
images of renewed hope.
I see troubled times, pain-filled days, and more tragedy.

Lend me your hope for a while,
I seem to have misplaced mine.
Hold my hand and hug me;
listen to all my ramblings, recovery seems so far distant.
The road to healing seems like a long and lonely one.

Lend me your hope for a while,
I seem to have misplaced mine.
Stand by me, offer me your presence, your heart and
your love.
Acknowledge my pain, it is so real and ever present.
I am overwhelmed with sad and conflicting thoughts.

Lend me your hope for a while;
a time will come when I will heal,
and I will share my renewal,
hope and love with others.

What kind of a world would this be if hope could be lent one to another? So on the days or nights when my hope gauge is pitiably on empty I could text you, call you, email you, find you somewhere and pray this plaintive prayer, “Lend me your hope for a while.”

And what if you could? I’m not sure if there’s a psychological trait that predisposes some people to possess extra amounts of hope, but if there were, wouldn’t we all make a bee-line to their door?

Somewhere in the Good Book there is a phrase provocative with meaning—“prisoners of hope.” Do you suppose we all are? Just that? Gauges on empty, too many of us—but all of us chained to the hope that hope exists. Prisoners to be sure . . . but hoping against hope there is yet hope to be had. Hope to lend, hope to borrow. But hope nonetheless.

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13).

Greater than hope? Apparently so, because when the hopeless come seeking hope of you, your heart to love them does much more for them than sharing your hope could possibly do. When a hopeless soul experiences selfless love—this must be the point—it is love that triumphs even as hope is birthed.

So the next time you hear the wistful prayer, “Lend me your hope for a while,” do the seeker a favor, and love on them instead. Turns out it is what they’ve been searching for all along.