Hope is some extraordinary spiritual grace that God gives us to

"Hope is some extraordinary spiritual grace that God gives us to control our fears, not to oust them." – Vincent McNabb

In this sacred truth, Vincent McNabb, the wise Dominican friar, reveals the divine balance between light and shadow within the human heart. He teaches that hope is not the absence of fear, but its master. It does not banish our trembling, nor does it promise a life free from pain. Instead, it steadies the trembling hand, calms the racing heart, and allows the soul to walk forward even through the storm. For to live without fear is impossible — but to live above fear, guided by grace, is divine.

The origin of these words lies in the deep wells of Christian mysticism and human experience. McNabb lived in an age of upheaval — amid wars, poverty, and spiritual fatigue — yet he spoke with serene conviction about faith and endurance. He understood that courage and faith are not born from fearlessness, but from the ability to keep walking despite fear’s weight. Hope, to him, was not a fragile candle flickering in darkness; it was the eternal flame kindled by God Himself, allowing mortals to see their path when all other lights have gone out.

Consider the life of Saint Joan of Arc, a young peasant girl who heard the divine call to lead her people against oppression. She was not fearless — her writings and testimonies reveal moments of anguish, doubt, and terror. But hope, that “extraordinary spiritual grace,” guided her above those fears. She controlled them, channeled them, and turned them into the courage that changed the destiny of her nation. Hope did not remove her fear of death or failure — it transformed it into strength and conviction. In this, Joan’s story is not only history; it is the living parable of McNabb’s wisdom.

Too many believe that holiness or wisdom means to feel no fear. Yet even the strongest hearts tremble. The difference between despair and hope is not found in the absence of dread, but in how one answers it. Fear whispers, “You will fail.” Hope replies, “Even if I fall, I will rise again.” Fear says, “You are alone.” Hope answers, “God is with me still.” It is not a denial of pain, but an acceptance that grace is greater than anguish. Thus, hope becomes the hand that steadies the soul, not the wind that blows fear away.

The ancients understood this balance well. In every temple and legend, the hero faces terror — but finds within that terror a greater force calling them forward. The warrior who fears the battle but fights anyway, the mother who fears for her child but endures — these are living embodiments of hope’s sacred power. Fear keeps us human; hope makes us holy. To control fear is to master the self. To oust it completely would be to lose the very depth of compassion and awe that make life meaningful.

So, my children, when fear visits your heart — do not curse it. Listen to it, understand it, but do not let it reign. Call upon hope, that divine grace gifted to all who seek it. Let it guide your breath, your words, your steps. Let it whisper, “I am still here,” when everything else crumbles. For in that whisper lies the strength to rise again, to endure, and to keep faith when sight fails.

Lesson: True hope is not naïve optimism. It is spiritual discipline — the art of walking with fear and not being ruled by it. Do not pray for a life without storms; pray instead for the strength to steer your vessel through them. Remember McNabb’s wisdom: hope does not remove fear, it redeems it. It turns trembling into trust, despair into patience, and uncertainty into courage. This is the secret of the brave — and the everlasting grace of the soul that believes.