If you’re looking for hope, there’s something for everyone: amethyst crystals, essential oils, hope-themed jewelry, and even inspirational throw pillows. Globally, we spend over $40 billion yearly on self-improvement products, chasing the promise of a better tomorrow.

I’ve walked the aisles at Hobby Lobby; the wall art seems irresistible. We invest countless hours and dollars trying to control our circumstances and optimize our lives. The hope industry relies on our constant desire to manage our inevitable uncertainties.

But looking at it from the outside in, isn’t it absurd that we try to sell the good vibes of hope?

What if true hope arrives in a way that consistently defies our expectations?

In contrast to the curated slogans of algorithmically-optimized ads, the story of Jesus' birth reveals a different kind of hope.

The Gospel of Luke presents the most complete account of his inconvenient birth. We read in Luke 2:6-7,

While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. Then she gave birth to her firstborn son, and she wrapped him tightly in cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

The air was thick with animal scents, Mary's hands grasping rough straw, the first cry piercing the night - God entered our story in the pain of an experience repeated thousands of times daily.

The God who could have chosen any entrance chose the sweat and tears of a woman’s sacrifice. No focus group would have approved this marketing strategy. No influencer would have endorsed this launch. The King of Kings arrives not in a carefully curated experience but in ordinary human chaos: screaming, blood, pain, fear, and finally, relief, celebration, and smiles. 

Dan White writes, “Don't sanitize Advent. There were 400 years of longing and lament after Malachi prophesied about forthcoming justice in the arrival of the Messiah. There are no easy answers as to why God makes us wait.”

Financial anxiety can weigh on us like a heavy burden, making the future feel fragile and uncertain.

Health scares shake us to our core, forcing us to confront our vulnerability.

Scanning the news headlines can provoke discomfort and alarm.

But in Advent, God whispers a different message: His presence is enough, even when the outcomes remain uncertain.

Hope doesn’t arrive when the Amazon truck rumbles down the street. It’s what we experience after we engage our hearts with a deliberate decision to trust God. As the psalmist declared, “I wait for the LORD; I wait and put my hope in his word." (Psalm 130:5, CSB).

Hope is not for sale—Jesus came as a gift, arriving when "the time had come" (Luke 2:6). Hope runs on God's strange timetable—not according to our anxious schedules.

This is the audacious claim of Advent: that true hope arrives not in a product but in a person. Not through our purchasing power but through the gift of God's presence. Not when we've optimized our circumstances but when God enters our mess

The marketers are right about one thing - we're desperate for hope. But they're wrong about where to find it.

For the first week of Advent, I invite you to start each day reflecting on God’s unusual way of providing hope. Let’s ask God to give us his perspective. Where is God showing up—in the unexpected places, the inconvenient moments, or the unplanned interruptions?

Don’t we know that hope is not for sale? Yet, aren’t we still trying to buy it or control it?

It takes God-given faith to experience his gift of hope. 

Luke tells us that Hope slept in a manger. Because the Word became flesh in an overcrowded peasant home, we may have confidence that Jesus can meet us anywhere—in a hospital waiting room, with an empty bank account, or enduring another Christmas without our spouse. 

Where are you trying to buy hope this season?

Share your story in the Uncommon Pursuit community.

Photo by Carissa Weiser on Unsplash