There are moments when hope feels almost impossible.
Not because we have stopped wanting things to get better, but because life has given us enough reasons to wonder whether they ever will. We may carry on with work, family, responsibilities and ordinary routines while something inside us quietly asks: What if nothing changes?
This is where Søren Kierkegaard’s writing about despair becomes particularly relevant.
For Kierkegaard, despair is not simply feeling sad, disappointed or having a difficult day. It reaches deeper into our relationship with ourselves, our possibilities and, ultimately, God. In The Sickness Unto Death, despair describes a condition in which the self is unable to become itself in the right way.
Yet Kierkegaard’s understanding of despair is not intended to leave us without hope.
Quite the opposite.
His work points towards a different kind of hope — one that can remain even when our circumstances give us very little reason for optimism.
When ordinary hope runs out
Most of us understand hope in fairly practical terms.
We hope for a new job. We hope a relationship will improve. We hope someone will recover. We hope tomorrow will be easier than today.
There is nothing wrong with this kind of hope. It is part of ordinary human life.
But it is also fragile.
If the thing we are hoping for does not happen, our hope can collapse with it. We wanted the particular outcome, and when that outcome disappears, we can feel as though there is nothing left to hold on to.
Kierkegaard makes an important distinction here.
His understanding of hope is closely connected with the possibility of the good. In Works of Love, he describes hope as relating oneself expectantly to the possibility of the good. His concept of hope is therefore not simply about predicting that something pleasant will happen. It points towards something deeper and more enduring.
This matters because life rarely gives us certainty.
Sometimes the future we imagined simply does not arrive.
Despair says there is no possibility
One of the striking features of Kierkegaard’s analysis is the relationship between despair and possibility.
When we are overwhelmed by circumstances, it can become difficult to imagine anything different. The present begins to look permanent.
This is how things are.
This is how they will always be.
There is no other way.
Kierkegaard describes a form of despair in which a person loses sight of possibility and becomes trapped in necessity. The world appears closed. There is no room left for another future.
This is one reason despair can feel so heavy.
It does not merely tell us that something is difficult. It tells us that difficulty is final.
Hope begins by refusing to accept that finality.
That does not mean pretending everything will work out exactly as we want. It means refusing to believe that what we can currently see is the whole of reality.
Hope is not the same as optimism
There is an important difference between hope and optimism.
Optimism often says:
“Things will probably get better.”
Hope can say:
“Even though I cannot see how, the possibility of the good has not disappeared.”
That is a much harder kind of hope.
It does not depend entirely on circumstances behaving themselves. It does not require a perfect forecast. It can exist alongside uncertainty, disappointment and grief.
Kierkegaard’s understanding of eternal hope goes beyond what ordinary calculation can establish. Earthly expectations can fail because the particular outcome we wanted may never arrive. Eternal hope, by contrast, is directed towards the good in a way that is not ultimately dependent upon a particular earthly result.
This is why Kierkegaard’s hope can seem almost unreasonable from a purely practical perspective.
It is not based on having all the answers.
It is based on continuing to relate oneself to possibility.
What happens when we stop hoping?
When hope disappears, something else can happen quietly.
We stop imagining.
We stop expecting.
We stop trying.
We may still perform our responsibilities, but inwardly we have already decided that nothing meaningful can change.
This can look like acceptance from the outside.
Sometimes it is simply exhaustion.
Kierkegaard’s work suggests that the self cannot flourish by becoming trapped entirely in either possibility or necessity. Human existence involves holding together what is actually given to us and what remains possible. In his analysis, losing either side can contribute to despair.
This gives hope a surprisingly practical dimension.
Hope keeps the future open.
Hope does not mean ignoring reality
There is a temptation to think that hope requires positive thinking.
Kierkegaard’s approach is much more demanding than that.
He does not ask us to close our eyes to suffering. His writings take anxiety, despair, guilt, suffering and uncertainty seriously. His philosophy is concerned precisely with what happens when human beings confront the difficult realities of existence.
Hope, then, is not denial.
It is possible to say:
This hurts.
I do not understand this.
I cannot see a way forward.
And still refuse to conclude:
Therefore, there is no way forward.
That small distinction can change how we live.
Faith and the courage to hope
For Kierkegaard, hope ultimately becomes closely connected with faith.
This is particularly important because faith, in his thought, is not simply agreeing with a collection of ideas. It involves a personal relationship and a continual task of becoming a self. The self cannot simply be constructed through achievements, reputation or the approval of other people.
Faith therefore changes the nature of hope.
Instead of placing all our hope in circumstances, success or other people, we begin to understand hope in relation to something beyond ourselves.
This does not remove uncertainty.
In fact, Kierkegaard’s understanding of faith takes uncertainty seriously. Faith is not valuable because everything has been intellectually settled. It involves commitment where certainty is unavailable.
That is precisely why hope can survive when certainty cannot.
When you cannot see the next step
Perhaps the most human part of Kierkegaard’s message is that we do not need to see the entire road before taking the next step.
Sometimes we want certainty before we move.
We want to know that the relationship will work.
We want to know that the career decision is right.
We want to know that the difficult season will end.
We want proof that our efforts will eventually pay off.
But life rarely offers that kind of guarantee.
Kierkegaard’s vision of hope invites a different response: live faithfully within the uncertainty rather than waiting for uncertainty to disappear.
Hope can begin very quietly.
It can be choosing to try again.
It can be having one honest conversation.
It can be getting out of bed when yesterday convinced you that nothing mattered.
It can be allowing yourself to imagine a future you cannot yet explain.
It can be trusting that your present circumstances do not have the final word.
Hope when life feels impossible
There is something deeply uncomfortable about hope.
If we have been disappointed enough times, hoping again can feel dangerous. It can feel easier not to expect anything.
If I do not hope, I cannot be disappointed.
But the protection comes at a cost.
A life without hope can gradually become a life without possibility.
Kierkegaard’s writings challenge this withdrawal. His account of hope presents it as intimately connected with becoming a self and resisting the despair that says the future is already closed. Some scholars therefore interpret hope as an important counterpoint to despair in Kierkegaard’s thought.
Hope does not promise that we will get everything we want.
It asks us not to confuse not knowing with nothing being possible.
A different way of looking at tomorrow
Perhaps this is why Kierkegaard remains relevant.
We live in a world that constantly asks us to predict the future. We calculate, plan, measure and optimise. We want certainty before we commit.
But some of the most important things in life cannot be guaranteed in advance.
Love cannot.
Meaning cannot.
Becoming yourself cannot.
And hope certainly cannot.
Sometimes hope begins precisely where our calculations end.
Not as a guarantee that tomorrow will be easier, but as a refusal to believe that today’s despair is the whole story.
When hope feels out of reach, perhaps the question is not:
“How can I become certain that everything will be alright?”
Perhaps the deeper question is:
“Can I remain open to the possibility of the good, even when I cannot yet see it?”
For Kierkegaard, that openness is not weakness. It is part of the difficult work of becoming a self.
And sometimes, when everything feels closed, keeping the door open just a little may be the beginning of hope.
Explore The Sickness Unto Death
If you want to explore Kierkegaard’s ideas about despair, selfhood, faith and the struggle to become yourself in a more accessible way, check out The Sickness Unto Death: A Modern Translation for the 21st Century.
Visit www.thesicknessuntodeath.com to discover more about this modern translation and explore Kierkegaard’s enduring questions about what it means to be human.