“Surely there is a future, and your hope will not be cut off.” Proverbs 23:18

In my early morning trek across the Mendota Bridge, I noticed a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. I turned quickly to see what it was. There, embedded in the chain link fence that joins the massive stone bridge structure, were bright, red plastic cups. The cups, normally used for holding picnic beverages, spelled out one, simple word: ‘HOPE’. Seeing this message, I felt a warmth wash over me that felt like a healing. As traffic rushed by on both sides, as bikers huffed and puffed across the windy, expanse of the bridge, someone had offered an urging, a blessing, for whatever the day might hold.

My mind was instantly filled with a thousand questions. Who created this message? Why the cups? Why in this particular place, on this specific stretch of highway? How did they know the cups would fit so perfectly? Why did they feel the need to offer this word to the world? Was the word used as a noun or as a verb, as command or comfort? So many questions continued to flood my mind as I journeyed on.

In many places of our world, hope is certainly in short supply. I think of all the places where war continues to rage with no end in sight and of all the lives that will be damaged by the fighting on just this day alone. I think of the many places that are a headline one day and forgotten the next. Places like Japan and Joplin. What kind of hope do the people in these places need to help them get up and face each day? I think of the people in MInnesota who struggle each day to make a life with few resources and no safety net. I am equally aware that the systems that have provided them with basic needs are in serious jeopardy as our elected officials seem incapable of working out any compromises for our state budget. These are just the big picture places where hope is waiting to be born. To say nothing of individual lives that long for little sips of hope as they go to work, out to play, off to school, out to lunch, to bed at night.

Seeing all those cups, I was reminded of one of the things those of us who serve communion often say as we offer the Lord’s Supper. Raising the chalice into the outstretched hand of another, we say “Cup of Hope.” As the offered Bread of Life is dipped into the cup, the receiver takes these simple elements and makes them a part of their own body. Eating and drinking these simple gifts are both symbol and reality.

Whoever took the time, perhaps in the dark of night, to spell out the word ‘Hope’ with red plastic cups must have known that there are times when just one cup will not do. Sometime we need multiple cups of hope. For those who are in this very place, longing to drink their fill of a hope that will quench a powerful thirst, I offer prayers. May you step up to a table…..or a bridge….which will bring all you need. And may your cup overflow.