Richard Davenport

November 12, 2023 – Proper 27

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

            If I asked you, “what do you hope for?” how would you answer the question?  It’s a pretty vague question and is probably something you could ponder for a long time. Almost anything you can think of can be a valid answer.  As a little kid, you probably spent time writing out your Christmas and birthday wish lists, all of the things you’d seen and heard about that you wanted. Often it would be toys and that sort of thing, but sometimes maybe it would be wanting to take a family trip or some kind of activity.  There’s all kinds of things you might wish for.

            When that day comes, what are your expectations? What were you hoping the day would look like?  Brightly wrapped presents with your name on them.  Perhaps a card with some good news that you had been waiting for.  Sometimes those wish lists can go on for a few pages. Sometimes you can have some pretty outlandish or expensive things on there.  If you did, chances are you aren’t getting everything you hoped for. If you had a really big list, you probably didn’t even get most of them.

            How do you process it when the things you were expecting, the things you were hoping for, didn’t materialize?  Is it ok if you only got most of what you wanted?  What about if you got a bunch of things but not the one thing you wanted most?  What if it turned out you got nothing at all?  Was your hope in vain?  Was it all just a pipe dream?  Do you console yourself with thoughts like, “Well, things will have to be better next year”?  Is it a sign that what you wanted wasn’t really important after all?  Maybe your parents didn’t have the time to learn what you actually wanted, or maybe they just didn’t care.

            None of that really changes as an adult.  We still have hopes, aspirations, dreams, and so forth.  There are plenty of things we want, things we look forward to, things we’d like to see happen.  What we hope for might change somewhat, but we still have those hopes.  We hope for big and important things, getting that new job, getting a clean bill of health, safety in the midst of danger, reuniting with friends or family after a long absence.  You can also hope for frivolous things.  Even if you know they’re frivolous and won’t really change anything, you still have some expectations.  It’s still something that would brighten your day if it happened.

            What are your hopes worth?  What do they even mean?  When the bad times seem to keep rolling you’re told not to give up hope, but why?  Why bother with any of it?  We have this idea of hope, but it amounts to much the same thing as dreams, wishes, aspirations.  There’s something better out there, something I really want and I dream, I wish, I hope that God, the universe, destiny, my own fortitude and hard work or whatever it is will finally bring that thing to me. 

            What assurance do you have that anything you hope for will ever come to pass?  Often, those who talk about hope in this way are operating under the assumption that the world is inherently good, that people are inherently good, that good will eventually triumph over evil in that fairy tale sort of way.  But this world wants nothing to do with goodness. People are sinners, every single one of us.  From the moment we’re born, each of us is only out for ourselves.  If there is any good in this world at all, it because the world can’t keep God from putting it there.

            We pin our hopes on things that are bound to fail us. We cling to the idea of hope because we believe that we are deserving of some good things in the midst of all of the bad.  We think of hope in those terms and, when it fails, we go right back to doing it all over again because we don’t stop to consider what we’re doing.

            There’s the old adage, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”  That’s exactly what we do.  We keep hoping.  We occasionally take a little perverse pride in the fact that we still cling to hope when others have given up.  Those who have stopped looking for the world to simply give them good things because that’s how things are supposed to work, those are the smart ones. 

            Any hope you have is kind of a bet.  You’re betting that if you hold out long enough, your hope will pay off.  In a world such as this, though, that’s a bad bet.  There’s nothing in this world with a perfect track record.  There’s no one who can be counted on 100% of the time, no matter what.  No matter how hard you hope, no matter how desperate you are, no matter how much you need or want whatever it is, there’s nothing that will guarantee it. 

            We keep doing this to ourselves because we want to believe we deserve it.  We want to believe we’re good people and that we deserve the good outcome we hope for. When we don’t get what we hope for, we can at least rail at the unfairness of it all.

            In truth, we talk about hope the same way the rest of the world does and it doesn’t make a lot of sense.  The fact that anyone can ever think of their situation as hopeless shows they don’t understand hope at all.

            St. Paul doesn’t mince words.  There are people who have no hope.  Whether it’s because they are hoping in the wrong things, hoping for the wrong reasons, or because there’s nothing to hope for.  St. Paul understands how terrible that situation is. These people see the kind of hope the world operates with.  They see how it fails.  They see how worthless it is.  So they either don’t bother, or they just keep on with their flawed hope because they think they’ll be vindicated in the end. 

            The uncertainty of it all. The knowledge that there really is no guarantee, that there’s nothing to look forward to, there’s nothing that says anything good will actually happen.  It’s a pretty unfortunate way to live.  If that was really how the world was, then I guess we need to stop deluding ourselves that hope is a thing.  After all, that’s the atheist mindset.  There’s no purpose to any of it.  There’s no reason any of us exist at all.  It’s all just random and when you die, that’s it.

            But that isn’t it.  In fact, saying there’s no hope is to call God a liar.  To say there’s no hope is to look at the world and how it works and to assume that that’s how God works to.  Because the world fails, because everyone around us fails, God must also fail.  It’s to question his track record and his capabilities. 

            St. Paul sets the stage for us.  Jesus died, then he rose again.  He sums up this awesome miracle in just a few words.  Jesus died.  He was dead.  Verifiably dead.  The Romans knew how to execute people.  They were very good and very thorough.  One centurion demonstrated how seriously they took their duty by stabbing Jesus with a spear, just to make sure he wasn’t somehow faking it.  Nope.  Dead. Then he gets wrapped up and buried. Yet, through the miraculous and mighty power of God, death isn’t able to hold on to him.  Jesus is stronger than death.

            That’s all well and good.  I’m glad for Jesus.  No one looks forward to dying, so it’s good that he isn’t dead, but that doesn’t do much for me.  Except it does.  The power of Christ’s resurrection extends beyond just him.  He’ll bring back others from the dead too, people who will rise again just as he did and will never die again.

            That’s still nice, but that still sounds like the same kind of hope everyone else peddles.  After all, just because Jesus will bring some back doesn’t mean he’ll bring me.  It sounds like the Jehovah’s Witnesses who say God has a limited number of spots in heaven for the really righteous people.  They all hope they’ll qualify for one of those spots, but there isn’t any guarantee.  How is this any different?

            St. Paul tells you what Jesus did.  He also tells you what he will do for those he will bring with you.  But that’s not all he says.  Martin Luther was always pointing out how two of the most important words God ever says are, “for you.”  St. Paul takes some time in his letter to the Romans to describe what your baptism actually means.  Christ’s life is yours now.  Jesus died and rose again and he did all of that for you.  How do you know?  Because your baptism is your assurance, your guarantee that it is all yours now.

            How do you know God will follow through?  How do you know he’ll actually do it?  Well, Jesus did it, for one.  He’s already proved he can do it.  More than that, because, unlike everyone else, God never fails. He always does what he says. Always.  Every promise he has ever made has always been fulfilled.

            There’s hope, and then there’s hope that focuses on God.  When it comes to what God promised, you never have to wonder whether it will actually happen. You don’t have to wonder whether God will forgive you, whether God will continue to love you, whether he will restore your dead body to life.  He promised. When it comes to hoping in what God says he’ll do, it isn’t a gamble.  It isn’t wishful thinking.  It’s a certainty.

            You are never without hope, because God never fails. He has done what he said.  He’ll always do what he says.  He does it all for you.