A Hope That Begins Again
Table Talk
Setting the Table
Welcome. There is room for you here. Come carrying whatever this day has placed in your hands—joy or weariness, hope or heaviness, clarity or uncertainty. Take a few slow breaths. Set aside what can wait. Allow this moment to hold you as you are, without expectation or hurry.
Hope isn’t a distant wish—it begins with the small, faithful ways we notice and care for others.
“Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, ‘What are you doing for others?’”
– Martin Luther King Jr.
“Hope, it is the only thing stronger than fear.”
– Suzanne Collins
Isaiah 58.6-8
“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them.”
Food for Thought
January arrives every year full of questions.
Not just the loud ones about goals and plans—but also the quieter ones that surface when the calendar turns, when we pause long enough to notice what still aches, what still longs, what still hopes.
What are we carrying into this year that we’re already tired of holding? What needs to change—or perhaps be healed? How do we know if we are living as we’re called to live? And how might our lives, in small and faithful ways, help make the world around us more whole?
These are not questions we can rush to answer. They linger. They ask us to listen. They remind us that we are alive, that we are part of something larger than ourselves, and that our attention and care are needed.
And yet, this year is already off to a rough start. We carry grief from wars that continue to unfold, anxiety shaped by political division, and the heaviness of communities and neighbors who are hurting and afraid. Families feel the weight of economic uncertainty, and disasters—both natural and human-made—remind us of how vulnerable we are. The world feels heavy, and many of us are carrying more than we even know how to name.
How do we hold on to that Advent hope which, just weeks ago at the turning of the year, promised renewal and light—even as we face the heaviness ahead? And how do we live into that hope not as a distant wish, but as a daily practice of noticing, caring, and choosing love in a world that so urgently needs it?
At a pivotal moment in history—marked by difficulty and uncertainty—Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminded us, “Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, ‘What are you doing for others?’”
It is a question that resists easy answers. It lingers. It does not ask how busy we are, how successful we appear, or how certain we feel about the future. Instead, it turns our attention outward. Who are we noticing? Who are we making room for? And as we cling to hope, who are we choosing to become?
Hope is often misunderstood as optimism—as believing things will somehow work out. But the hope Dr. King embodied was never passive. It was rooted in responsibility, a hope that insisted love must take shape through concrete acts of care and justice.
The prophet Isaiah speaks to that same kind of hope. In Isaiah 58, God says: “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to let the oppressed go free… to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house?”
Faithful living is not simply about intention or ritual—it is about attention. It is about seeing what is broken and choosing to respond. It is about allowing love to shape how we live with and for one another.
At the start of a new year—when the future feels uncertain and the world feels heavy—this question doesn’t let us settle for vague resolutions. It calls us toward concrete acts of care. Toward small, faithful ways of showing up that make room for dignity, healing, and belonging.
Every turning of the year carries a quiet invitation—not simply to start over, but to choose again who we will be. To practice a hope that feeds, frees, shelters, and restores. To live in ways that reflect love made visible.
And as Isaiah promises: “Then [our] light shall break forth like the dawn.”
Not all at once. Not perfectly. But steadily—through lives shaped by compassion, courage, and care.
May this January invite us into that kind of hope: a hope that notices. A hope that acts. A hope that begins again—by choosing one another, by choosing love, and by choosing to serve the world God has placed before us.
Keep a journal of the small ways you notice hope, light, or kindness in your day. Each evening, write down even tiny moments—someone holding a door, a smile from a stranger, a conversation that lifted your spirits, or a kind word you gave or received. Over time, this journal can become a reminder that hope is always present.
Do something for someone else! Share a meal, a kind word, or your time with someone in need. This could be as simple as inviting a neighbor or friend to sit and eat with you, sending a note of encouragement to someone who might be struggling, or offering your time to help a local organization or someone in your community.
For a printable version of today's reflection Click Here!
Blessing
God of Love,
Open our eyes this year to the needs around us.
Give us courage to see and respond with compassion,
make our hearts tender to the suffering of others,
and use our lives to share bread, shelter, and care.
Amen.
A little Table Talk for your table...
What quiet questions are you carrying into this new year? How might naming them help guide your days ahead?
How do you experience hope in your daily life? Is it mostly passive optimism, or active attention to the needs of others?
In what ways do you feel called to participate in the renewal and healing of the world around you?
Try taking it to the Kids Table...
What is something kind you saw someone do today or this week? How did it make you feel?
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once asked the question, “What are you doing for others?” In what ways could your time, talents, or presence serve others in small or large ways this year?
How can paying attention to other people’s needs help you bring hope into the world?
Meet This WEek’s Writer...
Lin Story-Bunce is a North Carolina native and lovingly calls Greensboro, NC home. She earned a Masters of Divinity from Wake Forest University and has served a wonderful and thoughtful congregation at College Park Baptist Church since 2009, pastoring to families and their faith development. Most of all, Lin loves the moments she gets to connect with her family, snowboarding with her wife, and keeping up with their four kiddos and two energetic pups. Lin is a teacher, preacher, dreamer, and procrastinator who has a knack for trying to do way too many things in far too little time.
To hear more from Lin throughout the week, follow along on our Instagram!