One of my favorite movies is "The Shawshank Redemption." In it, Red, an older convict, has this conversation with Andy, a man wrongly imprisoned for murder. They're talking about Andy's time in solitary confinement and the music in his head and heart that have seen him through.
Andy: You need music so you don't forget.
Red: Forget?
Andy: That there are places in the world that aren't made of stone. That there's . . . something inside that they can't get to; that they can't touch. It's yours.
Red: What are you talkin' about?
Andy: Hope.
Red: Hope? Let me tell you something, my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane. It's got no use on the inside. You'd better get used to that idea.
Red's point is that hope is dangerous because it can disappoint and break you. The rest of the movie proves that hope is dangerous--to the oppressive powers that be. In the end, hope drives Andy to the most unlikely escape. Free at last, Andy writes to Red: "Remember, Red. Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies."
Kind of reminds you of the Apostle Paul, doesn't it: "More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, and perseverance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not dissapoint, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, which He has given to us" (Rom. 5:3-5).
For Paul, hope is tied up in the Resurrection of Jesus and its concomitant, the resurrection to eternal life. That hope is dangerous, too. It's not dangerous because it disappoints. (Paul excludes that option.) It's dangerous because death is the oppressor's great weapon, and if death has already been defeated and will finally be destroyed (1 Corinthians 15:26), then the oppressor is powerless against the One who really rules the cosmos--and against His people. If we don't fear his worst, what shall we fear?
Hope--a dangerous thing . . .
Andy: You need music so you don't forget.
Red: Forget?
Andy: That there are places in the world that aren't made of stone. That there's . . . something inside that they can't get to; that they can't touch. It's yours.
Red: What are you talkin' about?
Andy: Hope.
Red: Hope? Let me tell you something, my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane. It's got no use on the inside. You'd better get used to that idea.
Red's point is that hope is dangerous because it can disappoint and break you. The rest of the movie proves that hope is dangerous--to the oppressive powers that be. In the end, hope drives Andy to the most unlikely escape. Free at last, Andy writes to Red: "Remember, Red. Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies."
Kind of reminds you of the Apostle Paul, doesn't it: "More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, and perseverance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not dissapoint, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, which He has given to us" (Rom. 5:3-5).
For Paul, hope is tied up in the Resurrection of Jesus and its concomitant, the resurrection to eternal life. That hope is dangerous, too. It's not dangerous because it disappoints. (Paul excludes that option.) It's dangerous because death is the oppressor's great weapon, and if death has already been defeated and will finally be destroyed (1 Corinthians 15:26), then the oppressor is powerless against the One who really rules the cosmos--and against His people. If we don't fear his worst, what shall we fear?
Hope--a dangerous thing . . .
