This is My Hope | Sunday, December 3, 2023

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us. (Romans 5:1–5)

In a weary world drowning in disappointed hopes, the Advent of Jesus brings a hope that anchors the soul and never fails.

A Thrill of Hope

One of my favorite Christmas songs is Oh Holy Night. I'm not going to sing it—the worship team has left the building—but the lyrics are great: "Oh holy night, the stars are brightly shining... long lay the world in sin and error pining, till he appeared and the soul felt its worth. A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn."

I love that lyric in the middle: "a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices." This Christmas season, as we do every year, we are talking about Advent—the arrival of Jesus. The word Advent comes from the Latin adventus, meaning the arrival or the coming. We remember Jesus's coming to this world and celebrate it, because as he comes he not only arrives as the King of kings and Lord of lords, Immanuel, God with us—he also brings with him many wonderful things.

For many centuries, in more traditional churches, the four Sundays before Christmas have remembered the themes of hope, joy, peace, and love. Last week we talked about peace—the peace that surpasses understanding, that guards our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, a peace greater than what the world looks for. This week, point number one: the Advent of Jesus is the Advent of hope.

We Cannot Live Without Hope

This is one of my favorite topics. There have been studies, especially over the last five decades, confirming what Scripture has long taught: we cannot live without hope. One of the great books on this—though a heavy read, it's short—is Man's Search for Meaning by Victor Frankl. Frankl was a psychologist, but more than that, he lived through the concentration camps of Germany during the Second World War. As a Jewish man trained in the psychological sciences, he understood the reality of what hope brings to a person, and what happens to an individual or a group when they lose hope.

We desperately need hope, and we live in a weary world. You don't have to look far to see how burdensome it is—a world weighed down by the bondage of sin. People are burdened by financial concerns, and at this time of year those amplify. Inflation is high; you feel it every time you put gas in your car. My Suburban slurps gasoline like a kid with a Slurpee, and you watch the numbers roll by like a slot machine. Add to that the expectation of giving and receiving gifts, and the burden grows.

People are burdened by scheduling pressures, too. Ask someone how they're doing and eight out of ten times the answer is "busy"—I'm guilty of saying it myself. People are burdened by the news, especially news of war over the last couple of years in Europe and the last couple of months in the Middle East. Scripture says history will be dominated by nation rising against nation and kingdom against kingdom—wars and rumors of wars. And there's the burden of political division. 2024 is going to be chaotic; you can already feel the cycle ramping up.

The weight of all these burdens can press so heavily that we lose sleep and feel the physiological effects of stress. I don't think we could bear it if it were not for hope. Advent reminds us that Jesus, in his coming, brings hope—and it is a certain kind of hope, greater than what the world offers. A weary and hopeless world is a hellish place without it. The fact that Jesus brings this kind of hope is good news—and good news is gospel. So this season, I challenge you: if you have received that hope, share it with at least one person, because we all know people who are hopeless, despairing, and depressed.

A Hope That Does Not Disappoint

The hope Scripture speaks of does not disappoint. Paul writes in Romans 5 that, having been justified by faith—made right with God through trusting in Jesus—we have peace with God, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance, perseverance character, and character hope. "Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit" (Romans 5:5).

Who on earth rejoices in the midst of troubling circumstances? Only the person who experiences this hope. Point number two: Jesus brings a sure and steadfast hope that does not disappoint. This is good news, because the hope on offer in our broken world routinely does disappoint. If your hope is in your baseball team, it will disappoint. If your hope is in your investments, your good looks, your health, your intelligence, or even people in your family, it will disappoint—because your intelligence will fail, people will fail you, investments rise and fall, politicians falter, and medicine, science, and technology all give way.

When you study this concept in Scripture, you discover that biblical hope is an absolute and certain confidence in future good. It is not the optimistic-feeling kind of hope or the wishful-thinking kind of hope that dominates this world. Worldly hope says, "I feel good about this"—until a week later you don't. Or it says, "I wish I would win the lottery." Biblical hope, by contrast, is an absolute certainty of coming good.

An Anchor for the Soul

Because of this kind of hope, we have a sure and steadfast foundation even in tribulation. The author of Hebrews tells us it becomes an anchor for our soul—and the soul is the part of us that experiences anxiety, fear, worry, and concern. Hebrews 6:18 says, "So God has given both his promise and his oath. These two things are unchangeable because it is impossible for God to lie. Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for the soul."

That is the kind of hope I need, and the kind Jesus gives in the gospel. It holds us through storms. It gives us a peace that surpasses understanding—a peace unexplainable to the person watching us go through trials, who stands in awe and asks, "How are you not troubled by this?" You have no explanation, because it defies logic.

A beautiful illustration is found in the Gospels, when Jesus is asleep in the boat during a storm on the Sea of Galilee. His disciples are fretting, certain they will die, and they wake him: "Don't you even care that we're dying?" Have you ever felt like that with Jesus? He stands up, commands the wind and the waves to be still, and asks, "Why were you afraid?" Well—there was a storm! Hanging out with Jesus can be interesting. But it is a beautiful picture of peace in the midst of the storm.

What the World Seeks and Cannot Find

Because of this certainty of future good in Christ, we can have peace and rest in the storm, and—as we'll see next week—a joy that increases unto abundance for eternity. The joys and happiness of this world are fleeting, here one moment and gone the next. But the joy we have in Christ never ends; in his presence is fullness of joy.

People desperately want peace, hope, joy, and love, and they look for it everywhere. Maybe in times past you thought you found it in some substance you took or some activity you didn't want others to know about—but it never fills the void. Our culture keeps lying to people, telling them that if they just do this thing to their body, they'll feel better. They never find rest, and for many who go down that path, it leads to an increase of despair and suicide.

This is what Solomon spoke of in Ecclesiastes: none of these things brought what he was looking for. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity"—emptiness, emptiness, all is emptiness. That's 3,000 years old. Interestingly, just yesterday Elon Musk, the richest man in the world, posted on X: "wisdom > wealth." The richest man alive is telling us something Solomon learned three thousand years ago. Yet our culture keeps insisting hope and peace will be found in some new thing. The great philosophers of our time sing, "I still haven't found what I'm looking for," and "I can't get no satisfaction"—the very same thing Solomon said. But the true thing we desire is found in that little baby of Bethlehem.

The Thread of Hope from Eden to Eternity

This thread of hope runs from Eden to Eternity—from Genesis 3 to Revelation 22 and beyond. When God made all things, he looked at his creation and said "it is good"—seven times in the opening chapter—and at the end, "it is very good." Then it was destroyed. As Paul says in Romans 5, through one man sin entered the world, and death through sin, and death spread to all humanity. We still feel the weight of sin and death, and all creation, Romans 8 says, groans for the day when things will be restored. There is a deep desire for redemption and renewal in the heart of every living being.

At the very moment sin entered, the promise of hope began. Genesis 3:15 gives us the first glimpse into God's redemptive plan. God says to the serpent, "I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel." A man, from the seed of a woman, would destroy the work of the serpent—delivering a death blow to his head, though wounded in the heel. Theologians call this the protoevangelion, the First Gospel—the original promise of his coming, given at the very instant sin came in.

That thread continues through the Old Testament. In Exodus, Israel cries out under harsh bondage in Egypt, and God raises up Moses as a deliverer—a type and picture of the coming King. Through the Judges, the history of Israel, and the prophets, this longing for deliverance surfaces again and again, always when people are trapped in a storm, under the oppression of Egypt, the Canaanites, the Philistines, the Assyrians, or the Babylonians. At each point, Israel clings to a glimmer of hope for the Messiah, the Anointed One.

Comfort in the Valley

Isaiah 40 is a beautiful passage. Israel had just come out of bondage under the Assyrians—about 2,800 years ago, King Sennacherib had obliterated the nation of Judah, leaving only one city. They had been miraculously rescued by God, yet they were told a future oppression by the Babylonians was coming. In the midst of that darkness, between two peaks of great oppression, God speaks: "Comfort, yes, comfort My people! says your God. Speak comfort to Jerusalem, and cry out to her, that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned... The glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together; for the mouth of the LORD has spoken."

How can there be comfort when more warfare is coming? The comfort comes from God's sure word and promise. The Apostle Peter says we have the more sure word of prophecy—God has prophetically told us what is coming through his Messiah. This gives us hope, and that hope is an anchor for our soul. "A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices."

God even hinted at who this deliverer would be. From Genesis 3:15, a man born of a woman; in Genesis 12, through the family of Abraham; then through Isaac, then Jacob, then Judah, then through Jesse and his son David. Isaiah 7 foretold he would be born of a virgin; Micah 5 foretold he would be born in Bethlehem. Through all the darkness, this thread of hope runs from Eden to Eternity, with God saying, "I am bringing my Redeemer." And what do we celebrate every Christmas—the very ordering of our calendar—but the coming of the one who fulfills that promise?

The Hope That Gives Ultimate Comfort

Point number three: the hope the prophets predicted is the hope that gives us ultimate comfort. Our hope is not found in our investments, our intelligence, our ingenuity, our job, our health, our family, or our nation and its leaders. If all those things are ripped away, we can still have a sure and steadfast anchor for our soul—because it is an ultimate, otherworldly hope in Christ that redirects our focus into another world.

Psalm 16:9 says, "Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices; my flesh also will rest in hope." Psalm 31:24 says, "Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart, all you who hope in the LORD." Hebrews 6 calls it an anchor for our souls. And Romans 15:13 says, "Now may the God of all hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."

Life in a broken world would be hellish without hope, and it's only found in Christ. Many of you remember a time when you were without it. Paul writes in Ephesians 2 that you were once Gentiles, without Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel, strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. Some of you remember that very well. And some of you this morning do not yet have this hope.

Grace, Peace, and Hope in Christ

So how do you find it? The answers keep appearing in Romans. Romans 5 tells us that, having been justified by faith—made right with God by trusting in Jesus—we have peace with God, and we rejoice in hope of his glory. Point number four: grace from God brings peace with God, giving us hope in God.

Jesus is God's gracious gift. "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life." He came to give his life a ransom for many, to seek and to save that which is lost, to give life and that more abundantly. These are Jesus's clearly stated purpose statements: "I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly" (John 10:10); "to seek and to save that which was lost" (Luke 19); "to give His life a ransom for many" (Mark). That is why he came 2,000 years ago at Christmas.

How do we receive this gift? Again, Romans answers. Romans 10: "If you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved... For the Scripture says, 'Whoever believes on Him will not be put to shame.'" They will not have a disappointed hope. "For whoever calls on the name of the LORD shall be saved." Paul told Timothy, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief." Some of you might argue with Paul there—but Jesus came to save sinners. When you trust in his finished work on the cross, your wishful, blind, optimistic hope is done away with.

I've often asked people who are not yet Christians, "If you died tonight, do you think you'd go to heaven?" They say, "I hope so." On what basis? "Well, I'm a pretty good person." That's not sure and steadfast hope—and it's not hard to realize you're not perfect. "I hope God is loving enough to overlook my sins; I hope my good works outweigh my bad." That's blind optimism and wishful thinking, because Isaiah 64:6 says all our righteousness is as filthy rags before him. There's no hope in that—but there's hope in Christ that brings peace, rest, and joy.

Our Hope Culminates in Christ and His Kingdom

Point number five: our ultimate expectation and hope culminate in Christ and his kingdom. Your hope is not in this world. My hope is not in the state of California—that keeps getting driven home. It's not in the United States, its military might, its financial strength, our nation's credit rating, or my credit score. If my hope is in those things, God will allow it to be shaken until I find myself in total despair.

We've all seen the decline in mental health in our culture. Everyone here knows someone struggling with anxiety and depression, and at the base of it is usually something they hoped in that disappointed them. They hoped a marriage would satisfy, and it didn't. They poured all their energy, time, and assets into a business, and it fell apart. They gave all their devotion to a relationship or a goal, and in a moment it flashed in the pan and was gone, and they found themselves broken on the ground.

As horrible as that place is, there's only one place to go from there: to look to Christ. He is our hope. Ultimately our hope in him is his kingdom, where he comes and brings the fullness of his reign, restores all that is broken, and wipes away every tear, as Revelation says. From Eden to Eternity, from Genesis to Revelation, the thread of hope all points to him and his kingdom. That's what this whole Christmas thing is all about.

Closing Prayer

Father God, I thank you for your word, and for the comfort we can find in the Scriptures. I pray that we would turn first and foremost to the comfort of the Scriptures when we see all the things in this world that ultimately are not strong enough for us to hope in. Help us to set our minds on things above, to fix our focus on you, to seek those things which are with you in your kingdom, to realize that our life is hidden with you, and that when you appear, we will be with you in glory. Let that hope dominate our hearts and minds. Help each person here not only to know and experience that hope but to share it this season with someone else, for there are many hopeless people in our culture in desperate need of something strong, steadfast, and enduring to find refuge in—and that is only found in you. Help us to remember that this Christmas, and to share it with others. We ask this in Jesus's name, and all those who agreed said amen.