| Jeremiah 32:6-7 – “The word of the Lord came to me, saying, ‘Behold, Hanamel the son of Shallum your uncle will come to you, saying, “Buy my field which is in Anathoth, for the right of redemption is yours to buy it.” |
We need many things to survive.
We need air.
Go just three minutes without it, and your body begins to shut down.
We need water.
After about three days without it, the body spirals into collapse.
We need sleep.
Science is now uncovering the deep cost of sleep deprivation. It’s been linked to everything from weakened immunity to increased risk of dementia.
But there’s one more thing—something not physical, but just as essential.
We all need hope.
Take away a person’s hope, and you’ve taken away their reason to keep going.
Many have chosen to end their lives not because of physical pain… but because they couldn’t see a future. They couldn’t imagine things getting better.
God knows this about us.
That’s why—even in the darkest moments—He plants seeds of hope.
In the days of the prophet Jeremiah, disaster was approaching fast. The Babylonian army was coming. And with them would come the destruction of Jerusalem, the loss of homes, the captivity of God’s people, and the ruin of the temple itself.
Hopelessness was in the air.
But right in the middle of that looming collapse, God gave Jeremiah an unusual command.
“Buy a piece of land.”
It didn’t make sense.
The land would soon be overrun by an enemy. No one in their right mind would invest in real estate during an invasion.
But God told him to do it publicly.
Bring the witnesses. Sign the deed. Seal it. Make sure everyone knows—you bought this land.
Why?
Because one day… the people would return.
One day… homes would be rebuilt.
One day… vineyards would grow again.
That field Jeremiah bought wasn’t just property.
It was hope in action.
A visible sign that the story wasn’t over.
There’s another story, a quiet one, that carries the same message.
A 75-year-old man planted a row of small fruit trees.
His son, watching him work, said with a smile,
“You’re quite the optimist.”
He knew his father would never live to taste the fruit.
And yet… he planted.
Years later, after the old man died, the son returned to the family homestead. He had a choice.
He could walk to the cemetery and weep by the grave.
Or he could walk to the orchard and eat the fruit of a man who believed in hope.
Some of the best things we do, we do for a future we may never see.
That’s what hope looks like.
So, let me ask you:
What are you planting today?
Where are you investing your hope?
What seeds can you sow—not just for yourself, but for those who come after?
Because hope isn’t just something we feel.
It’s something we live.
–Robert G. Taylor
robertgtaylor.com
