In life, one moment can be tougher than another! As a pastor, a difficult moment for me
happened incredibly early in my ministry. I was the keynote speaker for the worship service at a
major church’s homecoming. This church was large, and it was full. That celebration service
had more than a thousand people in attendance outnumbering the available space: chairs
were set up outside the bathrooms and in the halls, with speakers and monitors hoisted
outside for the overflowing crowd.

The only problem was, I did not have a sermon. All week I had been studying scriptures hoping
to sense God give me the greenlight to use a particular text to develop a sermon. Every time I
chose a scripture – hoping to hear from God, I heard nothing. That day, I drove to the church
with the music turned off – hoping God would speak, waiting for a word – I heard nothing. When
we pulled into the parking lot, a church leader greeted Eboni and me. They escorted us to the
pastor’s study to prepare for worship. I hoped that God would speak quickly – I heard nothing.

When worship started, I felt apprehensive and hopeless. I was out of time, and I had
nothing! The service was dynamic: announcements, presentations and songs celebrated the
homecoming prior to the sermon. I sat there hopeless that God had not spoken, and
uncertain of my next step. The moment came as the sermonic hymn ended. I stood at the
lectern looking out: embarrassed, and full of anxiety. I sang the first stanza of an old Charles
Wesley song, Unwearied Earnestness – “Father, I stretch my hands to Thee; No other help I
know. If thou withdraw thyself from me, Oh! Whither shall I go?” As I started to sing it the
second time, I noticed that my parents had entered the sanctuary. The ushers directed them,
but my father was not obedient. Instead of going to the left and sitting at the rear: my father
walked down the middle aisle, towards the pulpit, and sat down right behind me – in the chair I
just recently vacated. Precisely when I finished the stanza a second time, he shouted, “preach
son!” It was in that exact moment that God spoke a word, I heard it and delivered it.

Hope must connect to a word. In Matthew, Chapter 8, Jesus met the Centurion. He insisted
that Jesus did not need to go to the soldier’s house for healing to take place. Instead, Jesus can
“speak” the healing and that will be enough. My favorite verse in that story is Matthew 8:13. The
second Jesus said “go,” immediately, the servant who was miles away, received his healing.

What word is your hope connected to? I heard my father say, “preach son,” my hope grabbed
that word, and God downloaded the sermon. The Centurian’s servant was sick, but his hope
connected with Jesus’s word of healing, and his servant was well. What word is your hope
connected to? This week, let us not hope in silence. Find a word, a scripture, a worship song, a
sermon and connect your hope to it. This week, let your hope speak. Amen.

Dr. Ron Bell