Wilderness Wanderings

"As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you." (John 15:9-12).

Hanging onto hope can seem like a hard thing to do these days. Lots of division, heartache, disease, death, and loneliness threaten to rob it out from under us. And if we have a hard time hanging onto hope ourselves, how can we possibly go out and offer it to others?

To be actively showing love, experiencing joy, giving care, doing justice, and offering hope seem like just the Christian things to be doing. Our Christian faith comes with commands, after all: and Jesus says the only way to remain in his love is to keep those commands. But that only leaves us feeling more stressed and guilty, because we're tired and we've just got no energy left to be doing it all. And if we can't do it all, will Jesus still love us? Hope is a hard thing to hold on to, indeed.

But of course, that's not really what Jesus is saying at all here. The picture behind this command, is that of the vine and the branches. Just a few verses earlier, Jesus has said: "I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."

The first thing Jesus gives us then, is not a command, but an invitation. And that invitation is not to do something, but simply to be. To remain where we already are: in the love of Christ.

It's only from that place, of being nurtured and fed by the life-giving sap of Jesus' love, that we are asked to do anything. And what we are asked to do, is simply to be conduits of what we have received. Love has been given to us and we pass it on. Joy has been infused into our souls, and we radiate it. Life is ours in Christ, and from his life in us: we bear fruit.

But it is his work in us. His love in us. His joy in us. That's where our hope comes from. From Jesus, as we do nothing more than remain where we are. So, take heart. Hope isn't something we have to hold on to ourselves. In fact, if we are branches on the vine that is Christ, it's probably better to recognize that hope is holding onto us.

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)

With the snow melting and the temperature rising bit by bit, many hearts are filling with hope. As bird song wakes us in the morning and hibernators emerge from their hide-aways, its easier to find joy in life. As the trickle of COVID vaccines making their way across the country becomes more of stream, we look forward to seeing faces again.

These things are all good, and we do well to walk with a lighter step.

Our text for today, reminds us that our true hope has a different origin. In his letter to the Romans, the apostle has written some heavy theology, of deep hope that his own people will turn to Christ, and a primer on Christian ethics. As he winds down his manuscript, he offers his readers a blessing: 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.

None of the congregations this apostle wrote to, had an easy time of it. Being a Christian community in the Roman empire was to swim against the current. Paul wrote to encourage the follows of Jesus to keep rowing.

Today, we are often told to look inside ourselves, to find the grit to keep slogging it out. But Paul doesn't do that. Instead, he points upward and writes, "May the God of hope fill you…" The capacity to keep on living the Christian life when all seems against us, comes not from within but from God himself.

What does God give? "Joy and peace." Pause and reflect on that. Remember that Jesus calls us to pray for 'God's kingdom to come.' In Romans 14 Paul says, "the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit…"

If we are citizens of God's kingdom, then God desires to fill us with 'joy and peace'. We are called to be full of joy and people of peace in a world where it is seldom seen. We bring it. What a beautiful image.

But for us to be such people, we need to trust him. To believe that Christ did come to establish God's kingdom, not with 'swords loud clashing' or 'fighter jets screaming' but with small acts of service and sacrifice. Trusting in God means that we believe that Christ's death on the cross was not in vain. Rather, that his resurrection from death means that he has conquered the kingdoms of evil. They will not last. Christ is king and eventually all peoples while acknowledge him as Lord.

Hope is a gift of the Holy Spirit which comes because of our trust in our Heavenly Father. Hope of course always looks to the future. Paul is looking forward to the time when Israel and the Gentiles will be united in the kingdom, to the culmination of history with Christ's return and beyond to the glory of the new universe which Jews and Gentiles will together inherit.

Joy, peace, faith and hope are essential Christian qualities. If faith is the means to joy and peace, overflowing hope is their consequence, and all are due to the power of the Holy Spirit within us.

The joy and peace we download from our God of hope will enable "us to overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." It will sustain us, and we'll have enough to give away to others. Because of Him, there will always be a spring. Because of Him we can make it through the darkest days of winter in our lives. When all you see is winter, look up. Let God fill you with hope.

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:35, 37-39)

We know these familiar words. They are some of our favourites, often repeated in bad times and in good.

And yet, we also have to be reminded of these words. Especially in times of much sorrow, hardship, or pain. We have to remind one another again each time: "not even this, even as bad as it is, can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

It's been a rough week past in the life of our church. A week that brought the death of Kelly and Martin. A week of much sorrow as we grieved and continue to grieve. It was also a week that marked a year of pandemic. Much pain, much hardship. And yet, as hard as this past week has been and will continue to be with the realities of long-grief it's brought into the lives of those we know and love here in our church, not even death itself can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

It takes a lifetime to live the reality of these words out though. We not only have to be reminded of the truth of these words, but we have to experience them too. In the valley of death's dark shadows we have to ask: "Are you still here, God?" As we face down a lost paycheck from a layoff, it begs the question: "God, are you still with us?" As we live in such a long isolation, we need to know: "God, are you still with me? I need to see and feel your love."

Not always right away, but soon enough—whether through the ministry of another, a peace in our soul, or a glimpse of something out in nature that assures us—soon enough God answers: yes. I love you and I am with you still, for nothing can separate you from my love for you in Jesus.

Remember, believe, and minister to one another as the hands and feet of Christ in this hope today, the hope that our God and his love remain with us always and through everything, no matter how hard.

A special, extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Matthew 24:1-14 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN QUESTIONS

"He will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like His glorious body" (Philippians 3:21).

The gospel story sounds too good to be true. It is the story of sheep rescued from a dark and fearful wilderness by the strong arms of a fierce shepherd. It's the story of children released from prison, of demons unmasked. It is the story of fearful disciples in a storm-tossed boat; the storm stilled by the command of their Master. It is the story of sick people healed, of blind people seeing. It is the story of dead people coming to life. It is the story of the God-man.

It is the story of God who is captured, sentenced, and crucified by His own people. His friends weep and his enemies laugh. And all because of a snake. The gospel is a story about a snake who experienced the thrill of evil victory. "I have won," he hissed. "God lays in the grave." But as the sun rose over the horizon chasing the darkness from the garden, the guards ran with it, and the unexpected happened. The story turned. There was one more chapter to be written. The Shepherd came out of the tomb; God was alive. Heaven and earth shouted for joy; the angels danced, and the Father smiled as His Son went off to find His friends. And the snake; he lay in the dust; his head crushed; his tail quivering as life left him.

It is a story that we are part of. That Sunday morning, many years ago is our story. The resurrection is part of our Christian faith, the cornerstone of our faith. As we read the resurrection story our hearts are stabbed with joy. We dance with the angels as good triumphs over evil. We are glad, our faith is not in vain, Christ arose.

But…

This life and this present world are subject to sin. We seldom think of sin as vanity, but it is. Life is vanity when it has no meaning. If we cannot answer the meaning of life, why live? why do anything at all? Most people don't like that question because it is too deep; it gets too close to the answer that life is not worth living; that there is no purpose to it. This is the haunting refrain of the book of Ecclesiastes.

Vanity means emptiness, fluff, a fistful of wind, a pocketful of nothing. It means to pay the mortgage for all your working days and then to die. It means working hard and running fast and getting nowhere. Vanity is a political speech that means exactly nothing. Vanity is the hope that tomorrow will be different, that there is gold at the end of the rainbow; vanity is wisdom and folly, hard work and laziness, laughter, seriousness, and everything, because everything leads nowhere.

In this life, we struggle against this sin. We fight against sin in our own lives. We struggle against sin in the world. We push against greed and we bite our tongues to keep from lies. We stand up for the oppressed and give money to the poor. We seek to elect politicians who strive for justice. When our eyes fill with longing for another's toys, we turn away.

But so often it feels like it's all in vain. The world does not get any better. And we, well, we don't seem too either. We cry out with Paul, "What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death, to vanity?" But because of the resurrection we can also answer with him, "Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!" (Romans 7:24-25).

The resurrection gives us something to hope for in the future. While we struggle against sin today, we know that tomorrow sin will be gone. While our bodies are weak today, we know someday they will be strong. The gospel is our story. We too will be changed. Christ will transform our lowly body. They will no longer be subject to disease or age or sin or vanity. Christ will transform our characters to be like his. We will have no more inclination for lying. Our eyes won't covet our neighbour's stuff.

As surely as Christ opened the eyes of the blind and stilled the storms, he will transform us. There is hope for us. Thanks be to God.

The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. (Romans 8:16-17)

Part of our Christian hope is that God will indeed transform our current frailty into the glorious flourishing of new creation.

That does not mean however, as Pastor Michael alluded to yesterday, that there will not be suffering in the mean time. Indeed, life in a sin-broken world brings us face to face with cruel diseases, tragic accidents, isolation, and much sorrow. Aside from the present circumstances in our own church that remind us of that fact, today also marks exactly one year since the WHO declared COVID-19 to be a pandemic. Much suffering indeed.

Jesus met these same sufferings. In the unjust and angry opposition to his ministry that would eventually lead to his cross, certainly. But, also as he simply trudged along from village to village witnessing the cruel diseases, infirmities, ostracism, and unfair situations that impacted the lives of so many.

Being Jesus, it was in exactly those places of suffering that he brought a foretaste of his coming Kingdom through healing, restoration, and embodied fellowship. A taste of the glory of a new creation that all of us will one day share.

And we know that we'll share in his glory, because the Holy Spirit himself testifies with our spirits that we are God's children. We belong to him, in this life and the next.

And, as his children we are heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ. Co-heirs who can look forward not only to inheriting the received gift of a new creation, but also to inheriting a role and a purpose beyond this life. We'll join in the family business as co-rulers with Christ, stewarding that new creation that we ourselves are a part of. We'll share in the glory of Christ by being ourselves, glorified, but also by serving with him in ways that bring him glory throughout a world renewed and restored.

That is all part of our Christian hope: the glory we await.

But for now we share in his sufferings in this world: feeling the pain of disease, death, purposelessness, and isolation—especially in the wake of so much death and sorrow. But because we belong to Christ and to his family, we know that suffering is not the last word. We will also share in his glory. The purposeful, community-full glory of a new creation.

Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed (1 Corinthians 15:51).

During Monday's devotion, I promised more reflections on Psalm 25 under the theme "Is the Captain on Board?" Sometimes life gets in the way, in this case, life and death. Yesterday, our congregation was invited to rejoice with the Joustras in the birth of a baby and to grieve with the Groenewegens in Kelly's death and with Rosa Lasoba, who's son, Martin, died tragically on Monday.

As those events shape my reflections for today, I want to remind you of our Christian hope, as Paul once wrote, "we will all be changed".

The birth of a child is often a beautiful thing. Few things are as awesome as cradling your newborn in your arms. There is so much hope, so much potential. Love and the joy overcome any fears.

But the fears are real. There is fragility. This living being is totally dependant. Most parents, when they hold their newborn child, encounter that sober reality that some day, this child too will die. Before that, there will be many trials and probably much suffering. To be a parent is not for the faint of heart.

As Christians, we do not avoid these realities of evil. Whether it is at the birth of a child or the death of a loved one, we acknowledge evil's grip on this life. There is much wrong with this world, and we cannot escape it. The present pandemic has caused many of us to realize that north Americans are not immune to evil's power. We have discovered just how frail we are.

And as Christians, we acknowledge that evil's hold on us is caused by humanities rebellion against God. When the apostle writes about our flesh, he is usually referring to that reality: that we are rebels, that we have walked away from the God who gives life and we have chosen death. Or as the Heidelberg Catechism puts it, 'we have a naturally tendency to hate God and our neighbour."

Yet, as Christians we face this frailty, this fleshness, with courage. This frailty is doomed to die. In his great chapter on the resurrection, the apostle says that 'our flesh and blood' cannot enter God's forever kingdom. Frail, mortal humanity cannot survive in God's eternal and perfectly holy presence.

But because Christ took on our flesh and blood, subjected himself to death, and rose again, death has lost its sting and its victory. By faith in him, our bodies too will be raised to new life. We will be changed. In our text, Paul refers specifically to those who are still alive when Christ returns. However, elsewhere he tells us that the dead are raised to their new bodies, and the whole creation is liberated from decay to share in the freedom of the glory of God's children. All who are in Christ will be changed. God will change are mortality to immortality and our perishableness to imperishableness.

When that day comes, death will have no more control over us. Our frailty will be gone. That fleshness will have been rooted out and destroyed. Life eternal will flow in us, forever. Our bodies will be transformed, along with all of creation.

God has already done the new thing in the Messiah, Jesus, and he will do it for all Jesus' people through the power of the Spirit. And in that new thing, death and decay will be gone, swallowed up for ever.

And so today, in whatever way we face the frailty of human life, we can so with courage and hope. Let's get a head start on Easter and declare, "Christ is risen. He is risen, indeed."

The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father." (Romans 8:15)

Hope propels us out into the world. And, as we ask the thorny questions of how to live in light of hope, we look to our Father and we remember that we are his children.

Our hope is in God, through Jesus Christ, who together give us the Spirit. And the Spirit joins us to our new identity. The Spirit is the adoption agent who accomplishes this work of joining us into the family of God. Never has the Spirit failed at this work. The Spirit connects us to Jesus the moment we believe, making us a part of the body of Christ and a part of the family of God.

Once part of the family, our name changes. Now we're called Christian. Now we're called the children of God. And that changes who we are. As children of God, we are seen, we are known, we are loved. We know who we are now because we know whose we are. We carry that family name "Christian" that goes back through the generations, thousands of years. It's a name and an identity far more enduring than our brief blip of a lifespan or anything that we can do within it. Adoption into the family of God makes us part of something much larger than ourselves, and yet never degrades us into an impersonal number or cog in the wheel. We don't become slaves, we become dearly loved children.

This is who we are now. And who we are, tells us how to live. Tells us something of our purpose. Reminds us of the family business we've been adopted into of ruling and stewarding the world, bringing love, justice, mercy, grace, and peace all in the name of Christ, our brother.

We can tend to get this backwards, thinking we need to slave away in order to earn our way into the Father's good graces. But friends, that's simply not the case. We're already there. We're already dearly loved children of the Father, graced by the saving power of Christ, adopted into God's family through the Spirit. There's nothing we need to do to earn it or prove our worthiness to keep it. All that's needful has been given.

And so, when things get hard and we're no longer able to do much of anything, that's ok too. It was never about our doing, and so there's nothing to fear. The same Father who gave us home and shelter at the first, who receives us time and time again when we cry out to him through life's middle, still has a place of belonging for us at the last. Because we are his children.

Today, our text comes from Psalm 25:

Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long (Psalm 25:4-5).

There is a story of a young Naval graduate, who after completing his first overseas cruise, was given an opportunity to display his talents at getting his ship underway and out of port. The young officer's efficiency established a new record for getting a naval ship underway. He was stunned, however, when a sailor approached him with a message from their captain. "My personal congratulations upon completing your underway preparations exercise according to the book and with amazing speed. In your haste however, you have overlooked one of the fundamental rules -- make sure the captain is on board before you leave."

Last Friday, Pastor Anthony, in reflecting on Ephesians 1, called us to look forward with confidence to our inheritance. Hope does cause us to look forward. But hope does not have us sit down and wait. Hope also causes us to roll up our sleaves and get to work.

David begins this psalm with the bold statement, "In you, Lord my God, I put my trust." And a little later, in our text, he says, "my hope is in you all day long". This trusting and hoping in God propels David to know and live according to God's ways. Our text says, "Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long".

When I was in school, English grammar was not my favourite subject, but when I started learning Greek and Hebrew, I came to appreciate how useful it is. In our text, the word 'for', which can also be translated as 'because' is the pivot of the sentence. David wants to know God's will because his hope and trust are in God.

Why does David ask God to 'show me your ways,' and 'teach me your paths'? David has the law given by Moses after all? True. But there are many situations in life in which we need to choose. The given or revealed law of God simply doesn't cover every situation. David, as king of Israel, is called to lead God's people in the ways of obedience.

Whatever context God has placed us, we are called to obedience as well. But it is not always easy to discern: What does God want us to do with our money? How must we raise our children? What should we do with a troubled marriage? How can we best help the poor, the marginalized, the sexually different?

Christians have given many different answers to these questions. Often each situation has its own answer, depending on the circumstances.

Like Israel, God calls us to be "a kingdom of priests and a holy nation (Exodus 19:5, 6). Echoing these things, Peter writes, "But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession…Dear friends, I urge you, as foreigners and exiles, to abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul. Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us" (1 Peter 2:9-12).

Like David, Peter calls us to righteous living because of what is to come, because of our hope in Christ's return. So how do we discern God's will in each situation? How can we live into the hope we have? I'll flesh out an answer in my next two devotions.

For today, I want you to notice that it begins with prayer. David asks God for help in discerning his ways. None of us will get anywhere is living God's ways, if we don't ask him for help. When we pray "show me your ways" than the captain is on board. Like the young naval officer, we often set sail without the captain. And like the captain on a ship, God needs to tell us where to go.

A special, extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Matthew 24:1-14 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN QUESTIONS

1. What is our true Christian Hope?

2. What's the setting and context of Jesus' teaching on "the end of the age" here in Matthew 24? What things ought we keep in mind as we read this chapter?

3. The disciples ask about when and also ask what will be the signs of Jesus' coming and the end. Does Jesus answer those questions? How?

4. The only sign Jesus really gives is in verse 30, and it's his coming again. So, what are we to do with all these other things he mentions of false messiahs and prophets, wars, rumors of wars, famines, earthquakes, persecution, hate, and a shrinking church?

5. Do you see examples of any of these things (false prophets/messiahs, hate, etc.)? What is Jesus' invitation to us when we see these things?

6. Where might Jesus be inviting you to strengthen your faith, hope, or love in and for him this week? Where might his humble way of love spill over from your life into the lives of others this week?