We are called to hope this morning. We are called to a hope which does not necessarily abolish the need to grieve but instead transforms it and fills it with meaning.
In Nazareth they don't want this transformation of their grief to hope. They would be happy to have the immediate cause of their grief eliminated. If they were no no longer subject to Roman occupation or to the hardships of their daily lives they would be happy to welcome that. But Jesus says,
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring glad tidings to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.
This sounds good. It sounds exactly like what the people of Nazareth probably want. But then Jesus says "Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing." What must his listeners think? They're still subject to the Romans and their lives are still a mess. There is no sign of anything changing soon.
The hope which Jesus has in store for them and for us is more than we expect. But it might not be the hope we would prefer. We are promised that "we shall always be with the Lord." But if that isn't a desire we have we wind up looking like those who "have no hope". We follow a God who "died and rose", not one who simply never died. We seek the one who "will wipe every tear from their eyes" (cf. Rev. 21:4), not the one who prevents any tears from falling.
This moment does contain suffering and sorrow. We have to come to terms with that. Can we follow a God who allows suffering so that he can bring forth something greater and more amazing than he could in a world where he did not allow it. Or are we David Hume, following Epicurus and echoed by so many others, who asks "Is he (God) willing to prevent evil, but not able? then he is impotent. Is he able, but not willing? then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? then whence evil?" We must not take this too lightly. We can't dismiss this question by indifference. There is suffering and it matters. We can't just look the other way. The question is whether we are able to know this, to care about it, and yet to trust that God is working to bring something even greater from this suffering. Can we say with Paul, "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us"? Can we, with him "rejoice in our sufferings" because of the good that can come through them?
Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church
To do so, we must be able to stare down suffering and have a hope which is stronger than anything we see. Since we need this, let us listen to these words of hope:
For the Lord himself, with a word of command,
with the voice of an archangel and with the trumpet of God,
will come down from heaven,
and the dead in Christ will rise first.
Then we who are alive, who are left,
will be caught up together with them in the clouds
to meet the Lord in the air.
Thus we shall always be with the Lord.
We shall always be with the Lord. This is somehow, mysteriously, a greater destiny than a world which did not permit any suffering would allow. Let us celebrate this hope. Let us "console one another with these words." We need this desire of our hearts, to be always with the Lord, to be the foremost desire of our hearts. We have a hope beyond this age with the power to transform our entire lives even now in this temporary world, on this pilgrimage through the dark valley of shadow.
The psalmist is filled with such joy this morning. He sings a new song to the LORD not because his kingdom is fully here but because he is coming.
Before the LORD, for he comes;
for he comes to rule the earth.
Let us reecho this joy!
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