Nehemiah: Saved by Hope

Nehemiah was not a man of two minds, but a man of two motivations. Most great achievers are. When he heard about the plight of those who had returned to Jerusalem, he wept and mourned for days. He wasn’t looking for a project—his life was already full. But unexpectedly, he was gripped by the “trouble and disgrace” of those living in Jerusalem.

Did he drop everything and dash off to help? Quite the opposite. He waited four months before doing anything at all, then spent five years organizing and preparing. All that time and preparation for a project that took just 52 days to complete. Nehemiah was fully committed—heart and mind.

We know the story: how he left with the king’s blessing and traveled to Jerusalem to rebuild its walls. But Nehemiah’s task wasn’t just about stones and gates—it was about restoring the people’s spirit. They weren’t only troubled or disheartened. They were disgraced, ashamed of who they were and what they had done to deserve exile. Shame tells us we are worthless. It isolates us. That was their reality—disgraced in their own eyes and in the eyes of those who had remained.

It is nothing short of miraculous that Nehemiah was able to rally the people, outmaneuver hostile neighbors, dispel rumors about his loyalty, confront corrupt leaders who preyed on the poor, and complete the task in record time. He could have walked away at any point—justifiably—and returned to his position of esteem and prosperity in Babylon. But he didn’t. He stayed. He persevered. He was determined to finish—and he did.

It’s a total success, isn’t it?

Not completely. Yes, the wall was finished, the Temple rebuilt, and the Law reintroduced as the covenant between God and His people. They repented and took responsibility for their disobedience. They were restored and no longer disgraced. Nehemiah’s work was done, and he returned to Babylon.

But in just two years, the people drifted. They still had the Temple, the ceremonies, and the Law with its guidance. They had walls to protect them from surrounding enemies. But one thing was missing. Without Nehemiah’s presence and leadership, they strayed. Though no longer troubled or disgraced, they had chosen poor leaders, broken their vows, and allowed greed to erode their integrity.

After his return and at the end of the book, Nehemiah is looking back wondering whether what he had accomplished would last. “Remember me for this, O my God, and do not blot out what I have so faithfully done for the house of my God and its services.” He had done so much—and yet, there is the nagging sense that even more remained undone. Walls, laws, and ceremonies are necessary, but  not sufficient. Their power depends on the hearts and moral character of the people.

For many of us, the feeling is familiar. When we look back at what we’ve accomplished, we ask the same questions: Did I complete the work to which I was called? Did I finish the assignment? Was I faithful in what I did for the house of God?

I think of J.R.R. Tolkien’s fable, Leaf by Niggle. Scott Sauls summarized it this way:

The story is about an artist commissioned to paint a mural. Niggle spent the rest of his career attempting to complete that mural—a large and colorful tree that would inspire for years to come. But in the end, the artist was only able to eke out one single leaf. And then he died. On the train to heaven, Niggle saw a vague but familiar image in the distance. He asked the conductor to stop the train. When Niggle got off, he approached the object and discovered it was a tree—his tree—complete and lovelier than he had ever imagined. And there, in the middle of the tree, was his contribution: Niggle’s leaf, for the whole world to see. In the end, Niggle discovered that all of it—the tree and even his single leaf—was a glorious, completed gift.

That’s true for all of us, isn’t it? Our work is never fully complete, but we trust it is part of a larger whole we will one day see.

Reinhold Niebuhr wrote:

“Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope.

Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore we must be saved by faith.

Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we must be saved by love.”

Saved by hope.

Saved by faith.

Saved by love.

‍

Art by Julie Castillo

‍