Hope For the Future
Clare Williams-Sarpong is an Associate Speaker with OCCA The Oxford Centre for Christian Apologetics. The Following words were given by Clare as the keynote speech for the National Parliamentary Prayer Breakfast, held in Westminster Hall, 7th July 2026
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The readings for today are Mark 10:46-52 and 1 Peter 1:3-7
As we gather this morning, we are aware of the many responsibilities represented in this room, and of the complexity of the moment we inhabit. And so, I want to share with you some thoughts about our topic today, ‘Hope for the Future’, through a New Testament, first-hand account of a blind man named Bartimaeus and his encounter with Jesus.
On first reading, this first century narrative might seem quite removed, irrelevant even, to the concerns of political and public discourse in 2026. After all, we know that hope is in short supply.
According to a 2024 YouGov survey, 66% of Brits feel pessimistic about the future. The Office for National Statistics found that 1 in 4 adults experience loneliness often or some of the time (ONS, 2024). And in 2023, NHS Digital found that 1 in 5 children/young people have a probable mental health disorder. Pessimism, loneliness and poor mental well-being are symptoms of a culture that has lost hope. However, sitting with today’s text allows us to see that this ancient story has profound comfort and challenge for us in our changing and unpredictable times.
And so, there are 3 key things we’ll focus upon as we think through hope together.
- Bartimaeus’ cry
- The actions of the crowd
- Jesus’ call to Bartimaeus
1. Bartimaeus’ cry
We should note Bartimaeus’ physical position as he begs on the road, not just his physical condition of blindness. The fact that he is sitting on the roadside is a literal picture of his socially outcast position. Bartimaeus faces a threefold crisis of blindness, poverty, and isolation. And yet, this did not prevent him from crying out to Jesus for help. Theologian, Robert H. Stein notes that when Bartimaeus calls Jesus ‘Son of David’, this is not simply a reference to his lineage, but a theological recognition of Jesus’ authority. Within the sounds of bustling Jericho, Bartimaeus hears the approach of Jesus and was not afraid to ask for help.
Bartimaeus’ vulnerability is not weakness. It is strength.
He is not afraid to defy the crowds that want to shut him down and keep him silent. In many ways, he represents our universal longing for hope, for the healing of personal suffering and sickness, and for all manner of injustice to end. His cry to Jesus resonates with the 66% of Brits who feel pessimistic about the future. His vulnerability echoes the 54% of Britons who see the cost of living as their primary concern, or the 44% who say they have struggled to pay food bills in the last 3 months.[1] As so what is your duty today to the marginalised, like Bartimaeus? Each MP here has answered a call to public service that sees and hears people in our society who are often overlooked. Whether in first century Jericho, or in modern Britain today, hope is universal. It is to say out loud the longings we have deep in our hearts. And it is this sense of duty that brings us to our second point: the actions of the crowd.
2. The actions of the crowd
It’s interesting that the crowd was with Jesus but notably they didn’t behave like him.
In the first instance, the crowd discourages Bartimaeus, telling him to be quiet. Yet, when they see that Jesus has noticed Bartimaeus they say, ‘Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.’ This reveals the fickle nature of the crowd, which tried to suppress Bartimaeus’ cries in one moment, only to encourage him later, when Jesus takes an interest in him.
Here, we have a sobering caution. Unlike the crowd, we have a duty to remain committed to those on the margins whom we serve. But perhaps the pressure of this duty can make us misplace our hope in the things around us. If we just gain a few more seats then… If we just get the funding for such and such a project then… If we just get so and so to endorse us then… Then what?
Too often we ask politics and political victories to deliver more than they ever could: not merely policy change but security, identity even a sense of redemption.
This misplaced hope can leave us thoroughly disappointed. Disappointed by people – however charismatic and charming – or systems that crumble under the weight of expectations that they were never meant to carry. No person, party or institution, can bear the burden of ultimate hope. Every ideology, every ‘ism’, eventually reveals its limits because no system can overcome the deeper realities of the human heart. Our fears, our self-interest. Our desire for control. Because every system is ultimately made up of people, and every person carries the same moral limits.
Part of our political disillusionment comes not from merely failed policies, but from asking too much of politics itself. We have placed upon parties and prime ministers a burden no person and institution was ever meant to bear.
Politics is a good servant but terrible a saviour. And this brings us, fittingly, to Jesus.
3. Jesus’ call to Bartimaeus
Unlike the silencing of the crowd, Jesus calls Bartimaeus to come near to him. It is a call that dignified Bartimaeus, a beggar who has sat on the outskirts of community for some time. His blindness was likely the only thing the crowd noticed about him, but Jesus’ question shows us something profound. ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ is not a cruel question in the face of Bartimaeus’ obvious disability. But, as many theologians within the theology of disability have pointed out, Jesus’ question is dignifying because it does not assume that physical sight is the only need in Bartimaeus’ life. It is a question that shows a posture of service. ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ ‘How can I serve you?’ ‘In what ways can I show up for you?’ And as each of you took office, these are the questions I’m sure you hoped to ask your constituents.
But Jesus’ call to Bartimaeus has an even greater significance because it points to the greater call upon his own life. We are told that Jesus is on his way through Jericho, but we know, from the rest of the chapters in Mark’s gospel, that this journey will ultimately lead Jesus to a humiliating death by crucifixion.
He was acutely aware of his calling to bring good news to the poor, to let the oppressed go free, and to atone for sin by giving his life as a ransom for many.
Today, you have answered the call of political service. And that road may well be a journey of criticism as you carry the weight of high expectations. Your vocation as MPs is one of service, of sacrifice. It is a call to honour the hopes of those whom you serve. And it is this posture of service that makes hopeful political work possible. It is justice oriented. In a world riddled with hopelessness and cynicism, you hold on to the hope that your political work can make a difference.
And this is why our topic, ‘Hope for the Future’, should not be dismissed as mere religious jargon, a polite theological platitude which has no grounding in the real world. We might be tempted to say that hope is just a nice thing we talk about before we get to the real and more serious work of politics. However, ‘Hope for the Future’ isn’t just optimism or wishful thinking. It is a position that assumes that the future can be changed, that the future is worth caring about in the present. It assumes that good ultimately matters and will overcome evil. This is the assumption that you, rightly, make by rolling up your sleeves and getting stuck into the work of politics. The meetings, the emails, the paperwork may at times feel or appear mundane, but they are all part of the praxis of hope.
Hope betrays our intuitive sense that the past, present and future are teleological, that they have a purpose. Hope suggests an alternative to the view that our existence is pre-determined, that we are cosmic orphans or that our lives are merely the product of impersonal forces. Hope says that we are not shaped only by biology and circumstance, inhabiting a universe that is ultimately indifferent to us.
The Christian worldview affirms this intuition. It affirms that hope is not just an evolutionary by-product, a psychological strategy that is convenient or useful in keeping us motivated but ultimately irrational. Christianity takes hope seriously; it doesn’t trivialise hope as a beautiful illusion. Hope provides insight which enables us to imagine different possibilities and futures.
You see, hope within the Christian worldview is not merely an abstract idea.
Hope is grounded and embodied in the person of Jesus.
Through his well-documented life and death, Jesus challenged both the religious elite and political powers of his day. Within the Roman world where ‘might made right’ Jesus pursued justice and brought hope to those on the margins – the sick, the poor, the outcast, and the stranger. This hope was not just for inclusion into unfair or corrupt culture, but a greater hope of being brought into relationship with God.
Often when we speak of Jesus, it is to regard him as a moral teacher. But this framing is too limited, too British, if I can say, for the God who has stepped into human history and brought hope for the human condition. A ‘wise sage’ or ‘harmless itinerant speaker’ is too domesticated for the extraordinary claim that after being crucified by experts in pain and death – the Romans – Jesus rose from the dead. The claim that our last enemy, death, was defeated because Jesus was resurrected is more than a metaphor for hope after difficulty. It is evidence of a God who acts upon our hopes. A God who says that even death is not the end and grants us an eternal hope.
This eternal hope is one where creation, our world around us, is made new. It is not discarded but healed completely. Hopes are fulfilled and justice is realised. And the bodily resurrection of Jesus points to a future in which we too are embodied; not disembodied souls adrift, but renewed people in a renewed world. This hope gives weight to our political work now. It shifts us from a mindset of “we only have one life, so make it count” to “what we do now carries meaning beyond our lifetime.”
The invitation
Today, we are invited to hope and imagine differently. We are invited to steward the hopes of the people we serve, to keep our own hearts soft with hope and not hardened by resignation. These passages from the Bible we have reflected on today affirm that we are right to hope. Hope for justice and peace is grounded in a creator God of perfect justice and perfect peace. And this hope was confirmed in the historical person of Jesus of Nazareth, in his death and resurrection. As I bring these thoughts to a close, we are invited to examine the claims of a God who enters history in the person of Jesus, and bends it toward redemption.
Thank you.
Clare Williams-Sarpong