Over fifteen years ago, we were living in a foreclosed house we had bought for $32,100.

It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t Instagram-worthy. It wasn’t even functional most days. But it was what we had, and more importantly, it was where we believed God had planted us. My wife and I had a dream to turn this broken, neglected shell of a building into a home… while raising our little ones inside it.

That part still makes me smile. Parenting toddlers while remodeling a house that was actively falling apart around us—what could possibly go wrong?

The truth is, everything could. And sometimes it did.

One summer day, it rained so hard that water came streaming into the kitchen through the ceiling. Not dripping or streaming. A steady ribbon of water pouring right down onto the floor as if the roof had simply given up.

We didn’t have the money to storm into Home Depot and say, “Alright, today we remodel the entire house.” So instead, we lived in this strange blend of vision and reality, remodeling one little piece at a time for nine long years.

On a late-summer afternoon, which did not yet carry any smell of fall, I decided to replace one of the upstairs dormer windows. Out came the old single-pane wood-sash windows, frame and all. As I tore it apart, thousands of ladybugs spilled out of the cracks like some kind of dusty confetti cannon.

I stuck my head out through the empty frame. Our house sat barely thirty feet from a busy state highway, and from that upstairs perch I could see far down the road.

Everything was turning brown. The ditches. The weeds. The grass. The goldenrod waving like a field of tired yellow flags.

Even the trees had that dying late-summer look, pale greens fading into worn-out yellows. Something about that scene hit me harder than I expected.

As I stared down that road, a deep sense of loneliness washed over me—the kind of lonesomeness you can feel in your bones. The kind that whispers about the gap between who you hoped to be and where you currently stand.

I remember thinking, “We’re entering a new millennium. What will we face in our lifetimes? What will my children grow up to see? How will I ever get this house remodeled? How will we ever get ahead?”

I was selling promotional products from my home office—pens, mugs, calendars, anything with a logo—and spending half my days packing and shipping someone else’s products at a flat rate per package.

It wasn’t glamorous work. It wasn’t high-paying work. It was simply what I had the ability to do at that moment.

Meanwhile, the neighbors had just gone to Hawaii for their honeymoon. We… were watching goldenrod wilt beside a busy Pennsylvania highway.

And in that moment, staring down that road from the gutted window frame, I felt it: hopelessness.

You may have felt it too at some point. If you haven’t, you’re blessed. If you have and have walked through it and come out the other side, you’re blessed in a different way.

Hopelessness is one of the quietest prisons a person can sit in. There’s no clanging door, no guard tower… only the steady drip of discouragement wearing down a person’s courage.

As leaders in business, in family, in church, and in community, what is one of our greatest callings?

To spread hope. To point toward possibility. To help people see what they no longer see in themselves.

That’s always the feeling I get when I hear clips from Zig Ziglar, Jim Rohn, or John Maxwell. They have a way of lifting you above your circumstances, even if just for a moment.

What they deliver is not just inspiration. It’s not hype. It’s not empty positivity.

It’s hope.

But what is hope? Really?

Here’s an excerpt from gotquestions.org: “Most people understand hope as wishful thinking, as in, "I hope something will happen.

This is not what the Bible means by hope. The biblical definition of hope is "confident expectation." 

Hope is a firm assurance regarding things that are unclear and unknown (Romans 8:24-25; Hebrews 11:1, 7).”

“The righteous who trust or put their hope in God will be helped (Psalm 28:7), and they will not be confounded, put to shame, or disappointed (Isaiah 49:23).

The righteous, who have this trustful hope in God, have a general confidence in God’s protection and help (Jeremiah 29:11) and are free from fear and anxiety (Psalm 46:2-3)."

Read that again.

Slowly.

Confident expectation.

Hope is a spiritual anchor not a feeling, not a mood, not a nice thought. It’s a settled belief in the faithfulness of God.

Biblical hope says, “The future is safe in God’s hands, even if everything today feels uncertain.”

Proverbs 23:18 tells us that for the righteous, “There is surely a future hope for you.” Jeremiah 29:11 reminds us God’s plans are to give us “a future and a hope.” And Isaiah 49:23 declares that those who hope in Him “will not be put to shame.”

Hope is not fragile. Hope is not naïve. Hope is not blind optimism.

Hope is strength.

Think about the leaders who’ve stirred you, shaped you, or steadied you.

What did they give you?

Information? Sure. Direction? Often. But before any of that…

They gave you hope.

Napoleon Bonaparte famously said, “A leader is a dealer in hope.”

That’s the kind of leader worth becoming. Not a dealer in fear. Not a dealer in pressure. Not a dealer in negativity.

A dealer in hope.

Hope shows up in how we speak. How we listen. How we handle stress. How we carry ourselves when everything seems uncertain.

But the truth is hope starts inside. You cannot give what you do not possess.

French aviator Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote, “If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people together to collect wood and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.”

That’s leadership. That’s vision. That’s hope in action.

People don’t move because of orders. They move because of longing because a leader has shown them a picture of what could be.

Hope gives people air to breathe. Hope gives people strength to endure. Hope turns effort into meaning.

Even now, though the late summer still triggers that old ache in me, I remind myself:

Fall is only a season. Winter is only temporary. Spring always comes.

Jesus said that a seed must die in the ground before it produces abundance. Seasons of struggle are not signs of failure; they are preparation for fruit.

And so we hope, not with wishful thinking, but with confident expectation for a better tomorrow.

- Owen

P.S. What thoughts popped into mind? Hit reply and let me know! Thanks in advance! Also, if this resonated, hit the share button up top and help get the message out 🙏

Choose one area of life where discouragement has been creeping in—finances, business, marriage, or parenting—and say a single sentence of confident expectation over it. Example: “God is not finished; this story is still unfolding in our favor.”

Send one uplifting message or have a conversation that encourages someone. “I see strength in you.” “You’re further ahead than you realize.” “Your effort is not wasted.” Hope multiplies fastest when spoken.

Choose a verse, quote, or phrase and put it somewhere visible—your phone, dashboard, office, or bathroom mirror. This keeps your mind aligned with truth instead of circumstance.

Revisit a dream or project you shelved because life got heavy. Make one tiny move: a phone call, five minutes of planning, or one question asked. Momentum restores hope.

Released on December 10, 2025, by Elias Raber and Owen Shrock and published by LeaderMinded Press, The Four Natures is the new essential 216-page guide to understanding yourself and the people you lead through the simple, powerful framework of Tree, River, Rock, and Fern.

It’s the foundational leadership book for 2026 and beyond and a MUST-READ for anyone who wants to communicate better, lead with clarity, build stronger relationships, and sell more products or services.

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