- Isaiah 2:1-5
- Psalm 122
- Matthew 24:36-44
- Romans 13:11-14
The first Sunday in Advent is given the "word of the day" of Hope. Two questions come to mind when thinking of hope: "what are we hoping for?" and "why?"
We're hoping for nothing less than utopia: God's mountain is above all other mountains; God's city is secure and all the people in it; we learn directly from God's mouth and out of that same mouth comes judgement for the nations, not a judgement that shames or angers or punishes, but one that settles disputes so that people have no bad feelings and no ill will and no need for swords or spears or methods of war. We're hoping that when all that comes about that we'll be a part of it and our children will benefit from it and grow and flourish and their children for generations to come.
A brief diversion about learning: Isaiah says "Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths." We go to God's mountain so that we may learn and we learn so that we can do. My sister is a stage manager for the one-act play team at the high school where she teaches. She and the the director and the kids went to a conference to learn more about their crafts. The kids are much impressed with my sister and asked her "You don't need Stage Manager 101; Why are you going to that workshop?" She says, "That guy leading that workshop? He's THE stage manger for Wicked, on Broadway! I'm going to hear whatever he has to say because he really knows his stuff!" We are going up the mountain of the Lord to hear God teach us out of his very mouth. No one knows God's ways better than God himself and we are going to hear it straight from him! and after the conference we are going to use that knowledge and walk in his paths. That's going to be great! . . . better than learning stage management from a real Broadway stage manager!
Back to the topic at hand: Why do we hope? Hope is sort of a two-edged sword itself: we have confidence in this good thing coming to pass, but it hasn't come to pass yet. The question "why hope?" has a part of both edges in it. For the glass-is-half-empty types: we only hope because we are in this world that is not yet utopia; one day we will not have to hope when utopia has arrived. But the glass is also half full: we hope only because our God is an awesome and omnipotent god who cares for us and has promised us good things. On the one hand, we hope because hope keeps us from being depressed, but on the other, almost paradoxically, we also hope because our confidence enables us to hope.
At some point, though, do we give up hope? How long do we hope without having our hope fulfilled? At what point do we give up and give in to a sense of helplessness against the tides of history? At what point do we learn not to hope because of life's circumstance? Do we lose our enthusiasm after minutes or hours? after weeks? years? generations? Matthew advises vigilance in the night. Not knowing when the Lord is coming we should stay awake. We should not be swept away unawares as those in the days of Noah. We should be prepared for the unexpected hour.
Vigilance, however, breeds its own disease. It has a way of becoming an end unto itself. We don't know what time it is and we don't know when things are going to happen and that puts us on guard all the time. Not knowing makes us too careful sometimes, and that makes us put a burden on ourselves that God doesn't necessarily intend. While we should have vigilance, we don't need hyper-vigilance.
What is it we're hoping for again? Over here on this side of Pentecost, Paul has a word from the other edge of hope, the confidence edge. "You know what time it is." Jesus came, walked the earth as a man with dusty sandals and a bunch of imperfect followers. He came, he was betrayed, he died, he forgave us all, he was raised from the dead and sent his spirit to us and called us. He called us as individuals and he called us corporately to be his church. The kingdom may not yet be accomplished, but it has certainly come to us all. We know what time it is and we have no reason to wallow in self-pity. Nor do we have reason to be vigilant as though it is night; the night is far gone and it is time to live as in the day for dawn has come. We hope for utopia because we know that it is already given to us, and all that's left is to live into what we have already received. We don't need to live under hyper-vigilance, trying hard to be good and not evil. We only need to put on the armor of light, Jesus Christ himself and live according to the salvation we have already received.
A last word about the flood. In the days of Noah, no one knew anything until they were swept away by the flood. God said he would never destroy the earth in that way again, but just because destruction is not his plan for us does not mean that God's plan won't happen in a similar way. We will be eating and drinking, marrying and being given in marriage, working in the field and grinding meal and one will be taken and one left and they will be swept away. This time, though, in a modern twist of idiom, I think it is those who get it that are swept away. This time it is the flood of the spirit that sweeps us away. The word of God proceeds from the mouth of God and we enthusiastically learn from it and are swept away by it. The word of judgement comes from mouth of God and we are convicted-but-not-condemned by it, and we see more clearly as in the light and we are reconciled to God and to one another and our response to judgement is not shame and resentment, but to live joyfully in that light, eating and drinking with one another and loving one another as God has loved us and enacting that utopia that we hope for in confidence because we have our savior and our salvation and because it is the day of the Lord.
What time is it? We know what time it is. It is daytime!
