Hope and Faithfulness

Lamentations 3

²¹ Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

²² Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.

²³ They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

²⁴ I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."

²⁵ The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;

²⁶ it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.

This passage comes in the middle of Lamentations, a book chronicling destruction like I can't even fathom. The dreams of a nation are dying with their city. And yet, God is good. God is faithful.

This passage makes my own doubt, fear, and questioning seem all the more insignificant. God will accomplish His purposes, even when all my expectations come crumbling to the ground, just as they did for Israel. God is faithful, and this is all that matters.

Hope In "Telling the World Its Own Story"

Our theme for this week is hope. There are times I desperately need to be reminded of the hope and triumph of the Gospel, and this article has become one of my favorite resources.

A couple of excerpts from "Telling the World Its Own Story" by Richard John Neuhaus:

The story of God's creating love; His preparing redemption for the world; His calling a chosen people and from this people raising up a Redeemer, the Messiah; His establishing an Apostolic community of faith, the Church, that would then reach out through all times and all places and all languages and cultures. This story bearing the promise of the telos — of the end — the destiny of the Cosmos itself and God's loving purposes for the world that He so loved that He gave His only begotten Son. This is the story of the world.

It is the story of everybody in the world. Our job is to alert people to their own story and to help them understand that everything that goes on in this world, all the dimensions of human activity — if they are rightfully ordered, if they are rightfully understood — are sacred, for they are all endowed with the presence of the God of creating and redeeming love who continues to be disposed to His creation, of which He once said, "Behold it is very good." So also He invites a return to that goodness and a fulfillment of that goodness in Jesus Christ.

We have to share God's love for the world. To have a Christian world view is to love the world.



All of us who have contended to be Christian disciples, to be faithful, know times in which we are tempted to despair and to feel that we are a part not only of a minority enterprise but a failing and perhaps definitively failed enterprise. But we have not the right to despair, for despair is a sin. And finally we have not the reason to despair, quite simply because Christ has risen. And this is the strength of a Christian world view, the strength of the Christian way of telling the story of the world: it has no illusions about it. All the other stories are built upon delusions, vain dreams, and utopias.



Hope is a virtue of having looked unblinkingly into all the reasons for despair, into all of the reasons that would seem to falsify hope, and to say, "Nonetheless Christ is Lord. Nonetheless this is the story of the world. Nonetheless this is a story to which I will surrender myself day by day." Not simply on one altar call, but as the entirety of one's life, in which every day is a laying of your life on the altar of the Lord Jesus Christ being offered up in perfect sacrifice to the Father.

The Kingdom of Hope

In class tonight, we talked about hope and the Kingdom of God. It wasn't mind blowing like last week's lesson, but it was a good class.

The Kingdom is obviously a major theme throughout Scripture. It's one of the things we focused on at Summit Semester. However, it's definitely something I still need mull over. It's a pretty abstract concept, at least in my head. However, two things are clear to me. It is both a physical and spiritual Kingdom. The Kingdom is in a state of being already here and not yet fully arrived. Beyond that, I'm still figuring out what it actually looks like in everyday life.

We live in a dark and fallen world, yet our response should be hope. Tom defined hope as a present belief rooted in the past but fulfilled in the future. It is something we cling to now, because we know God is faithful based on redemptive history and personal experience, knowing that He will fulfill His promises. It's a confidence that God is going to do everything He has promised, even when we are surrounded by nothing but darkness.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. - Romans 15:13

Grieving With Those Who Grieve

In this poem, the author and speaker are not the same (specifically in the first two stanzas). I do have a sense of grief, but it’s not out of my personal experience or loss. It’s much more about grieving with those who grieve, and longing for That Day.

“That Day Is Not Here Yet”

Where, O Death, is thy sting?
It’s here, piercing my soul,
Draining me of all I once assumed.
I know someday I’ll laugh,
Reminiscing, as of a dream,
The pain so engulfing today.
But That Day is not here yet.

Grief is all I know.
Today’s victory is another’s,
And this my only comfort:
The victory of the grave is not eternal.
But today the piled dirt and hard cold stone
Keep me anchored to this world,
Even as I long for another.

I live in the pain of this tension:
The Already and the Not Yet.
Jesus is life and hope.
And hope does not disappoint.
(Except in this shortsighted fact that)
We hope because we see not.
That Day is not here yet.

Death is already conquered,
But it is the enemy to be destroyed last.
Earning wages of the Fall, we all with Adam die
Even as all in Christ will be made alive.
Everything within me groans, with all creation,
For the reconciliation and final redemption
When all things will be made new.

There is hope.
But That Day is not here yet.

Home for Christ and His Kingdom and Hope

On Friday night, I became an alumna of Summit Semester, the class of 2009. It doesn't seem right. It seems like we should just be starting. But, no, we spent three amazing months together, and now it is time to go home, "for Christ and His Kingdom," as Eric charged us.

So I'm home, after a 14 hour drive all day Saturday. It was so weird to be home. I stayed up for like three more hours, reading the Semester blogs, bios, and notes, looking at pictures, remembering...

We went to church this morning, which was really good. It was good to see friends again. And I really needed the sermon, on hope, today being the first Sunday of Advent.

I'm not gonna lie, I don't feel like being hopeful right now. My heart is still looking back, longing for my new family and the home we had at Snow Wolf Lodge. I'd honestly rather wallow in the "400 silent years" for at least a few more days, musing and contemplating and grieving, in a sense, rather than jump back in wholeheartedly into life.

Yet I'm called to more than this.

To quote my new favorite article ("Telling the World Its Own Story," Richard John Neuhaus):

All of us who have contended to be Christian disciples, to be faithful, know times in which we are tempted to despair and to feel that we are a part not only of a minority enterprise but a failing and perhaps definitively failed enterprise. But we have not the right to despair, for despair is a sin. And finally we have not the reason to despair, quite simply because Christ has risen.

As Dr. Dunagin reminded us this morning, God broke the the silence of 400 years with the command: "Fear not!" Of all of Jesus' commands, almost 20% of these were spent telling us not to fear.

His main points: Fear robs us of joy and hope. It causes us to doubt God's goodness, and fear produces "spiritual amnesia." Fear drains us of generosity; it causes us to seek safety first, which drains us of love. On the other hand, joy is deep and firm and abiding. Joy flourishes in the midst of pain and struggle.

Currently, I am wrestling more with fear and despair than I am with hope and joy. I'm not sure how to best keep up the friendships I've made these past three months. I'm scared of finding/creating a community here at home like the one I've just come from and of developing deep friendships that sharpen like iron. I'm not sure what lies ahead, and I don't really like that.

Yet this is why hope and joy are so essential. They aren't abstract ideas that only work when life is good and the world is happy. Hope and joy sustain us when everything else is falling apart because hope and joy can't just be mustered up inside us when we feel down. They come as a result of tremendous sacrifice.

Neuhaus again:

Optimism is not a Christian virtue. Optimism is simply a matter of optics, of seeing what you want to see and opting not to see what you don't want to see.

We are hopeful, filled with hope, which is a very different thing. Hope is a virtue of having looked unblinkingly into all the reasons for despair, into all of the reasons that would seem to falsify hope, and to say, "Nonetheless Christ is Lord. Nonetheless this is the story of the world. Nonetheless this is a story to which I will surrender myself day by day." Not simply on one altar call, but as the entirety of one's life, in which every day is a laying of your life on the altar of the Lord Jesus Christ being offered up in perfect sacrifice to the Father.

And will we overcome? Will we prevail? We have overcome and have prevailed ultimately because He has overcome and He has prevailed. There are days in which you and I get discouraged. On those days I tell myself — I suppose almost every day I tell myself, sometimes several times a day — those marvelous lines from T. S. Eliot's "East Coker," where Eliot says, "For us there is only the trying. The rest is not our business."

For us there is only the trying. The rest is not our business. Some people read those lines as lines of resignation, kind of shrugging your shoulders and saying, "What can you do?" But I read them as lines of vibrant hope. The rest is not our business. The rest is God's business.

Thank God, we are not God. Thank God, God is God.

Grief and Semantics

Over the past two months, two things have grieved my heart, assaulted my emotions, and made me want to throw up - the seemingly eminent death of my grandmother and the implosion of my church.

In an odd twist of events, my grandmother is still with us, against all odds, fighting to recover in a rehab facility. Tomorrow will be my last day at the church I have loved and lived among for eight years.

As a result, I have been pondering the wrongness of two common statements.

1.) We lost my grandmother.
Death is not a loss for Christians, especially for the person who died. My grandmother is looking forward to heaven, longing to go Home. When she does go to be with Jesus, we have not lost her. We will not see her again in this life, but she knows Life as it was meant to be.

2.) We are leaving the church.
In a sense, we are leaving the church - the particular local body we have known and participated in for years. But (without arguing Perservation of the Saints and all that fun jazz) we will never leave The Church - the body of Jesus Christ, the Global Church, spread across all centuries and geographical boundaries.

This past week, I was comparing doctrines and theology with my uncle, a Presbyterian pastor, and my dad, an ordained Methodist minister. It was great to compare different viewpoints in a family setting. As we discussed certain things, my uncle said, "Ultimately it comes down to semantics, playing with words. But when you really look at it, these semantics are very important to correct theology."

True theology requires proper perspective. Death is not the end of life. A door closed does not mean death, but rather that God has provided new opportunities yet unseen.

We do not grieve as those without hope, but we still grieve. In grief, however, we cling to our hope, Jesus, and our hearts learn to trust Him when our emotional compass fails.

Jesus, may my heart learn to trust You.