Daring to hope

Everything had changed, and yet nothing had changed... Those were my thoughts as I walked into Oxford city centre the morning after the Brexit referendum, through an irrevocably changed world in which nature was in full summer mode, tourists thronged and traffic flowed unconcernedly. Nothing had changed... and yet, thanks to that 48/52 result, everything had changed; frighteningly, sickeningly, oh-so horrendously. 

I had similar thoughts - though for very different reasons - last Friday morning, as I headed into our office after an exultant, near-sleepless night of General Election results. Everything looked the same; nothing felt the same. Everything had been coloured by the strength and stability of our new Labour government, and its immense majority, even as I knew that foodbanks and homeless shelters would be as busy as ever; prices as high, NHS problems as acute... Nothing looked different - but everything was: because now, for the first time in years, I could dare to hope for change, especially for the poorest and most vulnerable in our society. 

In previous years I have written despairingly in the aftermath of general elections and, crushingly, the Brexit referendum. In hopelessness, I have written of the need to cling to hope, amid a malign darkness descending. This time, though, my hope is different: this time, I can dare to believe our new Prime Minister's words about a government of service in the mission of national renewal; like the writer of this article, I too can recognise the cracks that let in hope. 

This time, I no longer cling desperately to hope; now, I can dare to hope. And my prayer is that this hope may strengthen and be with us all, helping us to believe and to work together for the healing of wounds, and for the renewal we so urgently need.