Signals of Hope in Europe’s Apathy
I remember coming home one quiet Friday evening some years ago and switching on the television. What greeted me was not a blockbuster or a newsflash, but a live broadcast of a train weaving its way from Oslo to Bergen. Just a train, simply moving forward, yet something about it stirred me deeply. Perhaps it was the rhythm of the rails echoing the rhythm of my own memories. I had once lived in Stavanger, and as the Norwegian landscape slipped past the window, I felt something unspoken draw near. A homesickness, not just for a place, but for a time, a life, a self that seemed to hover just beyond the reach of the present.
It happened again, unexpectedly, last Friday. I clicked on YouTube and was met with the sound of praise echoing through Buchanan Street—Glasgow voices joined by Christians from Amsterdam, singing into the bright evening with hearts full of devotion. I’m a non-denominational Christian, cautious of labels and institutions, but this moment transcended categories. It wasn’t about where they were from, or which group they belonged to. It was the spirit behind the song; the courage to lift their voices in public, to speak of something higher in a world so often pinned down by cynicism.
There’s something holy about this uninvited moment that arrived without fanfare. A street chorus. They pierce the ordinary with hints of the eternal, small signals in the fog reminding us of we’re not alone, and that faith—quiet, personal, and sometimes faltering—is still strong enough to sing in the open air.
We’re all on a journey. Sometimes we travel by train, sometimes by memory, and sometimes by spirit. But every so often, grace appears in the window or at the street corner, and we remember who we are and where we’re going.
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