Misplaced Hope

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Have you ever put your hope in something or someone only to be left disappointed?

There once was a mother bird in the springtime, building her nest in a beautiful tree, anticipating the hatching of her little chicks. A lumberjack came along intent on chopping the tree down when he noticed the mother bird and her nest. Before he began chopping, he smacked the tree with the side of his ax. This shook up the mother bird. She became disoriented, nervous, and extremely unsettled. Unsettled was, of course, the lumberjack’s intention. Unfortunately, despite her best efforts to ignore him and make it work, he was relentless.

The bird pleaded with God for an answer, "why are you allowing this to happen to me?”

Finally, it was too brutal to ignore and she was left with no other choice: the mother bird abandoned her home and flew to another tree to build her nest.

She found a new spot and perched herself in the branch of another tree arranging the twigs and twine she had collect. Before long, the lumberjack appeared again on the same mission. The poor bird didn’t know that whole area was to be cleared, so when the lumberjack began to shake her out of her new tree, the mother bird was forced to relocate again. Again and again she would start over and over and over, trying to build her nest, each time in a different tree. And each time she’d wonder why God kept allowing this to happen. Doesn’t he see me? Doesn’t he care? Can’t he tell how hard I’m trying to make this work?

Perishable Hope

Sometimes God allows, the unstable, temporary things in our lives to be exactly that: unstable and temporary. 

We hope that this relationship, this job, this house, this neighborhood, this workout plan, this haircut, this vacation—will do it for us. The “it” being fulfill the longing we have in our hearts for our safety, salvation, worth, and purpose. 

We put our hope in these things to do more for us than they can possibly do.

Just like the trees in the forest that were destined to be chopped down.

Every person, thing, or idea we put our hope in will one day be gone. Chopped down. Removed. So in the same way that the lumberjack extends a kindness to the mother bird by shaking up her world and force her to look elsewhere for stability and a place to call home, we can see that it is, in fact, a gesture of love for God to allow the temporal things in our lives to fail us. For God to prop up the perishable things we put our hope in would not be loving. 

This would be a false hope. A misplaced hope. God allows us to experience the instability of misplaced hope so that we can turn to the only real source of hope available.

God doesn’t do this to destroy us – remember the lumberjack lovingly warned the mother bird of the impending doom of her nests and this forced her to reevaluate her choices. To stop putting her hope in the same old thing that was inevitably going to let her down. She couldn’t see the whole story. She couldn’t see the big picture. She couldn’t know that every tree she chose was not eventually going to be able to sustain her.

Do we not operate the same way? With our limited knowledge and our strong desires, we put our hope in things that are perishable, in things that won’t last and can’t sustain us forever. 

Without Jesus, our hopes, dreams, plans, and desires are perishable, spoiled, faded.

1 Peter 1 describes what is available to us when we put our hope in Jesus. That Jesus himself is a living hope and he sometimes allows us to be shaken up so that we can finally come to a place where we can put our hope in the Rock that is unchanging.

We must see the shaking up for what it is. He doesn’t ruin our fun out of spite or for his cruel pleasure. He delights in us as his children and it is for this reason that he leads us to the safety of his presence. The psalmist says:

He led me to a place of safety;

    he rescued me because he delights in me. (Psalm 18:19)

The late pastor, Tim Keller once said:

The course of your life is being set by what you hope for most. 

What you desire is driving your decisions. What you place your hope in determines how you live.

Do we live like our greatest hope and deepest longings are in God himself?

Finally after countless disappointments, it felt hopeless. Though ready to give up, the mother bird flew high above the trees and into a cleft in a rock on the side of a mountain, far from the forest that was being cut down. She built her nest there, unbothered. The rock was unlike the trees she had previously chosen. The rock was solid, immovable, unaffected by the lumberjack’s plans. It didn’t sway with the wind or collapse under pressure. It simply was—steady, secure, unchanging.

It makes you wonder why she didn’t choose the rock in the first place. But don’t we do the same?

We scan the landscape of our lives and choose what looks good, what feels promising, what seems strong enough. We build carefully. We invest deeply. We tell ourselves, this will hold. It has to. And then it doesn’t.

So we move on to the next tree. And the next. And the next. Until we’re exhausted from rebuilding.

Until we start asking better questions.

Not “Why is this happening?”

But “What am I building on?”

Because the problem isn’t that we hope. It’s that we place our hope in things that were never meant to carry those expectations. A relationship can’t hold the weight of your identity. A job can’t secure your worth. A perfectly curated life can’t give you peace. Those trees were always going to come down.

But the Rock? He doesn’t move. When Scripture talks about a “living hope,” it’s not offering a vague sense of optimism. It’s pointing us to a Person. A sure foundation. A place where our souls can actually rest.

So what does it look like to move your hope from the perishable trees to the Rock? It’s not complicated or reserved for the pious few. But it is intentional.

It looks like this:

1. Name where your hope has been misplaced.

Be honest. What are you relying on to give you security, validation, or purpose right now? If losing it would undo you, it might be carrying too much weight.

2. Let disappointment do its work.

Instead of numbing it, rushing past it, or trying to fix it—ask what it’s revealing. Instability isn’t always an interruption; sometimes it’s an invitation.

3. Re-anchor yourself in what is unchanging.

Return to truth. Not your feelings. Not your circumstances. Remind yourself who God is and what he’s promised in Scripture: that even when everything else feels uncertain, there is an inheritance secured for us in heaven that can never spoil or fade.

4. Practice daily dependence.

Hope isn’t a one-time decision; it’s a daily invitation to reframe, recalibrate, and reorient ourselves on Christ the Solid Rock. So whether it’s in the small moments like in your thought life, or monumental events determined by your choices or your reaction, you’re either climbing another tree or settling into the Rock.

And remember, the lumberjack didn’t destroy the bird. He redirected her. The shaking in your life isn’t an indication that God has abandoned you. Maybe it’s evidence that he loves you too much to let you keep building in places that won’t last. There is a Rock available to you. And unlike everything else you’ve tried to build on, he will hold.

What’s in the Ears

This is the part where I share a song or podcast I’m currently into. The themes of this post are reinforced by the song On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand by Passion Music which is a great rendition of it. Let me know if you check it out!

If this stirred something in you, share this post with a friend or drop a comment below. I’d love to hear what small step you’re taking towards the flourishing life today! And don’t forget to subscribe so you don’t miss a thing.