“You must not let your hope turn into expectation.”
I recently finished reading Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry, a sweet but melancholy story about a woman living in rural Kentucky. This line from the beginning of chapter nineteen particularly struck me, and I began wondering: What is the difference between hope and expectation?
Reflecting on my own experience with chronic illness over the past two years, I know what expectations can do to a person. I told myself that I would be better by Christmas. That passed. Surely, I’ll be well by the beginning of summer. That passed too. At least I have a friend’s wedding to look forward to in the fall. You guessed it—I was unable to attend.
At first, these unfulfilled expectations filled me with crushing disappointment. I grew angry with God for not answering my prayers by a certain date. I deactivated social media because I couldn’t bear to see what others were doing, while I was homebound and miserable that I could do nothing to alter my situation.
I felt like the hemorrhaging woman in the Gospel, who went to doctors but only grew worse (see Mark 5:25-34). Medications and supplements that were supposed to help me did exactly the opposite. Yet I frantically kept trying various remedies and doctors, convincing myself that finding the right one would guarantee wellness by a certain date.
The cycle of desperation and disappointment seemed never-ending, as I attempted one thing after the next. Many months passed before I realized that, in setting my own timeline, I was letting my hope turn into expectation. So, what’s the difference between the two?
Hope Points Us to Heaven
In his Letter to the Romans, Saint Paul tells us that “we hope for what we do not see” (Romans 8:25). The Catechism of the Catholic Church affirms this, stating that hope is “the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of Heaven and eternal life as our happiness” (§1817).
Hope sets our eyes on an eternal goal that we cannot yet see: Heaven. Expectation, on the other hand, often leads us to hyperfocus on earthly goals. It can deceive us into thinking that we will finally achieve happiness once a specific event or circumstance occurs: “I’ll be content once I get this amazing job or go on this exciting trip or find that perfect relationship.”
When that anticipated event fails to materialize or does not meet our expectations, we feel depressed and might engage in self-blame. Or sometimes the outcome meets or exceeds our expectations, giving us an initial high of good emotions. In either case, we can face the temptation to move on to the “next thing,” seeking joy in yet another temporal good.
That is why we need hope. No matter what happens in this life, hope assures us of the “eternal weight of glory” awaiting us in Heaven (2 Corinthians 4:17). Hope increases our longing for Heaven, allowing it to eclipse our desire for the things of this world, whether it be physical fitness, a career, a material object, or a relationship. By expanding our horizon to include the divine perspective, hope enables us to live for Heaven.
Hope Requires Total Surrender
Of course, we can certainly hope to achieve goals in this world—it’s even healthy to want certain things like good health or fulfilling work. I’m sure my doctors would be concerned about my mental wellbeing if I didn’t hope for a cure. But it’s dangerous to expect it through a specific means. Hope must be rooted in God, since He determines the how and when of everything that occurs in our lives.
The Catechism describes the total surrender required by hope as “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” (§ 1817). This is hard, since expectation often convinces us to depend on ourselves. We unintentionally rely on our own strength, allowing our desires to preoccupy our thoughts and lead to worry or obsession.
The weight of expectation is a self-made burden from which God wants to free us. He can spare us from the bitter pain of disillusionment—all we have to do is choose hope. As a theological virtue, hope is a gift we receive from God. We can ask Him to increase our hope through grace, going to Him with all our needs. However, this requires an act of total surrender on our part. God will answer our prayers, but we must accept that the timeline and the ultimate outcome may look different from our own expectations.
Hope Brings Peace and Joy—and Surprises
Over time, I eventually learned that Wendell Berry was right. Letting hope turn into expectation is dangerous and usually ends in disappointment. Chronic illness provides a uniquely fitting circumstance for this harsh reality to unfold. Anyone who has suffered from a long-term medical issue likely understands this. Life becomes a quest for relief from a myriad of symptoms, which often makes daily life miserable or uncomfortable at best.
Over and over again, I would read about a so-called cure online and convince myself that it would work for me. I would say a prayer and try it myself, and ninety-nine percent of the time it left me upset and no better.
At some point, I stopped the perpetual scramble to find healing according to my own timeline. I let my expectation turn into hope, asking God to lead me to the right doctors and remedies according to His timeline. While I still missed events and faced severe limitations, the disappointment lessened.
Now, I continue to pray for healing while ultimately leaving everything in God’s hands. Saint Paul tells us that “hope does not disappoint” (Romans 5:5). I know that even if the cure doesn’t happen today, tomorrow, or even the day after that, I have eternity to look forward to. In the meantime, I find true peace and joy from hoping in a God Who keeps His promises.
And who knows? Perhaps the absence of human expectations leaves more room for God to work through His grace. It is difficult to be surprised when you already have a predetermined outcome set in your mind. However, when we let go of expectation and choose hope, God may just surprise us with graces far greater than those we ever could have imagined on our own.
Margaret Peppiatt is the founder of Seek What Is Above, a Catholic initiative based on Colossians 3:1–2. A graduate of Franciscan University of Steubenville with a degree in theology, she is passionate about sacred art and how its beauty points people toward Heaven. Margaret writes from northern Virginia. You can read her blog on sacred art here.
