In preparing for my presentation on hope I quickly ran into the epistemological divide that separates psychology and theology. At the end of the day, hope is circumscribed by your ontology. What is the nature of reality, the whole of it? Your answer to that question determines the horizon of your hope. Psychology, as an empirical science, restricts itself to material phenomena, at least as a methodological assumption. Consequently, psychology struggles to describe or account for resources of hope that fall outside the material realm. God, for example. To see this, let's take a look at the dominant paradigm in psychology regarding hope, C.R. Synder's hope theory.
Snyder articulated his theory of hope in 1991. In that seminal article, Snyder offered this definition of hope:
“Hope is a positive motivational state that is based on an interactively derived sense of successful (a) agency (goal-directed energy), and (b) pathways (planning to meet goals)”
The first thing to note is that hope is a motivation, something that moves us toward a goal. This should be obvious as feeling hopeless is characterized by a lack of motivation. We lose our future-orientation and stop pursuing our goals. "What's the point?" we say to ourselves in a hopeless state.
The big part of Snyder's theory concerns how pathway and agency attributions relate to hope.
Pathway attributions concern perceived routes toward our goals. Can we see a viable and realistic pathway from where I stand to where I want to be? If I can, that increases hope. If, however, I can't see a pathway, then hope diminishes. I see no way to get from A to Z.
Agency attributions concern my self-confidence and self-efficacy to walk the pathway. I might, for example, see a path but lack confidence in my ability to achieve the goal. Here's a simple example. A student comes to me asking if there is any chance (hope) of getting an A my class. I say, "Yes. If you get an 98% of the final exam you'll get an A." So, that's a pathway. A legitimate route to the goal. But the student might lack the agency attribution needed for high hope, saying to themselves, "I'll never be able to get a 98%." To stay with the example, another student might come to me and ask if there is any chance of getting an A. This student is very high ability so their agency attributions are high. They believe, rightly so, that they can ace the final. However, I say to this student, "I'm sorry, but there's no mathematical possibility, given your current grades, of you getting an A in this class." So, agency can be high but no pathway possible.
You get the point. According to Synder's hope theory, hope is comprised of pathway and agency attributions. Is there a realistic and viable pathway toward my goal? And am I confident that I have the capacities and resources to walk that path? If the answer is "yes" to both of those questions, I have hope. But if one or both of the answers are "no" then hope diminishes.
Since Snyder introduced his theory in 1991 it has gone on to garner an impressive empirical record. Hope. as described by Snyder, is associated with all sorts of positive outcomes. High hope people thrive. And low hope people struggle. Snyder's theory is also very practical. If you want to instill hope in people help them envision pathways, along with generating alternative pathways if they run into obstacles or setbacks. This ability, to keep finding routes toward your goals, is a vital capacity. Relatedly, we can support and rehabilitate an individual's sense of agency and empowerment. "You got this!" "You can do this!" From parenting to coaching to mentoring to social support to therapy, improving agency kindles a capacity for hope.
And yet, as powerful as Snyder's hope theory is, it doesn't easily or comprehensively describe hope in the context of faith. In the posts to follow I'll describe some of the contrasts between psychological hope and Christian hope.
