By Monsignor Shea
In this Jubilee Year of Hope, I feel a strong calling to re-root myself in the theological virtue of hope—a virtue that can sometimes be misunderstood but is absolutely vital, especially in times like these. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been reflecting on what hope really means, and how it’s different from optimism or wishful thinking. It’s more than just a good feeling—it’s a decision to trust in God’s promises, even when everything around us seems uncertain.
Through my study of the Catechism, I’ve come to understand hope as “the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ’s promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit.” That really hit me—hope isn’t about relying on ourselves or wishing for things to improve. It’s about trusting that God’s plan for us is good, even when life feels heavy or uncertain.
I think in today’s world, many of us are carrying a lot of anxiety about the future. I know I am. It’s easy to fall into despair when we look around and see all the brokenness in the world. But for me, this is a bold reminder: hope isn’t for the naive—it’s for the faithful. It’s a choice to believe that God is still writing the story, no matter how messy things seem at the moment.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how easy it is to give into despair. I used to think of it as just a feeling—something that comes and goes. But the more I reflect on it, I realize that despair is more than just an emotion. It’s a denial of God’s goodness and His sovereignty over our lives. I’ve learned that when I give into despair, I’m essentially saying that I don’t believe God can turn things around, that I don’t trust His promises. But hope? Hope is a decision. Hope is choosing to believe, even when everything in front of me says otherwise, that God is still at work.
I know that life isn’t easy, and it can be tempting to shrink back, especially when it feels like everything is falling apart. But I also know that God isn’t calling me—or any of us—to shrink back. He’s calling us to rise up in faith. I want to be someone who exudes radiant confidence, not because of my own strength, but because of Christ’s victory on the cross.
One of the most profound things I’ve realized is that the greatest crisis in our world today isn’t political or economic. It’s spiritual. The crisis is a widespread loss of hope. When I look around, I see so many people weighed down by fear, anxiety, and a sense of hopelessness. And yet, as Christians, we are called to stand apart from that. We are called to be different, not by ignoring suffering, but by trusting that suffering isn’t the end of the story. We know that there is hope beyond the hardship.
Something else that has really stuck with me is the example of children. They are such a beautiful sign of hope. Every newborn life is a living testament that God isn’t finished with us yet. In a world that can sometimes feel like it’s crumbling, children remind me that the future is still worth fighting for. They embody the hope that God has a plan, and that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.
I’ve realized that hope doesn’t mean ignoring reality. It doesn’t mean pretending things are okay when they aren’t. For me, hope is looking at the hard, painful realities of life and still believing that God is at work. Even when things seem impossible, even when it feels like everything is falling apart, I know that God can bring healing and redemption. He has the power to turn the darkest moments into something beautiful.
One of the most impactful parts of this reflection has been the realization that I can’t wait for the world to change for the better—I need to be the one who brings hope. I need to live in a way that reflects joy, peace, and trust in God’s promises. It’s easy to criticize the world around us, but I’ve come to understand that it’s not enough to just point out the problem. If I want others to see hope, I have to be the one who lives it.
This is what Lent is all about. It’s a time when we enter into the desert with Jesus, knowing that hope is what will carry us to Easter morning. Hope reminds me that no sacrifice is ever wasted. When I look at the Passion of Christ, I realize that hope is the very heart of the Gospel. It was never optional for Jesus, and it can’t be optional for me. Hope is the heartbeat of everything we believe. It’s not just a feeling—it’s a decision to trust in God, no matter what.
Watch Monsignor Shea’s full keynote from the 2025 National Catholic Prayer Breakfast:
Additional Resources
Looking for more from Monsignor Shea? Listen to his keynotes from SEEK on SEEK Replay.
For more reading on hope, check out our recent blog, Trust in God: The Truth About Hope in a World of Disappointment.
Give
