Hope in the Midst of Cynicsm (Part 4)

Scripture Introduction:

Read a few headlines from the newspaper.

What do we do with this?

Some of them you might care about. The reality is that we probably have too much information. We don’t know how to process. We don’t know how to feel…really. But what happens when this comes into your life?

What happens when these headlines are in your world…how do we interpret them? What do we do with good news? What do we do with bad news? How do we place them…we are meaning makers…we do something with them…what do you do with them?

We’re going to land at Romans 8:18-25 today as we talk about hope…but in order to set that up we need to become familiar with Psalm 44.

Psalm 44:1-8…here is our history…it’s talking about how awesome God is. He always shows up for His people. He has a history of going with them. Things always work out.

But listen to the turn in verse 9. “You have rejected us and disgrace us…and have not gone out with our enemies…” He continues like this for next 7-8 verses… “you’ve sold your people for a trifle...”

And you’re thinking…ah, this dude is getting a little bold here. He’s probably done something wrong. Probably made dumb decisions, they’ve been rebellious, this is God’s punishment of them....but listen to this...

Psalm 44:17–18 ESV

All this has come upon us, though we have not forgotten you, and we have not been false to your covenant. Our heart has not turned back, nor have our steps departed from your way;

Feel the pain and confusion of Psalm 44:19…yet you have broken us in the place of jackals...

And then Psalm 44:22…keep these words in your mind, they’ll come up again later.

Psalm 44:22 ESV

Yet for your sake we are killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.

And then he just cries out to God for rescue. Redeem us! Fix this! He’s groaning…our soul is bowed down to the dust...

Psalm 44 is a psalm which recounts the history of God in dealing with his people. Those in whom the Lord delights he rescues. That’s His record. Until it isn’t. And that’s what has the Psalmist struggling.

They have lost in battle. They are suffering. They are being taunted. They are even being slaughtered. I think they could stomach that if they were being ungodly or idiotic. But they aren’t. They are being faithful to the covenant, and what’s really unsettling. Bad things are happening to good people.

So Psalm 44 is really a lament that is asking God why in the world he is doing the things that he’s doing. It’s a people saying that God isn’t making a lick of sense but they know He’s their only rescue and so their going to hang on—but they are deeply discouraged and filled with questions.

It’s a newspaper meditation when your best friend, or even your grandchild is in the obituary column. I thought I was being faithful to you—why’d this happen?

That’s the meditation of someone who is mostly powerless and feels it in their bones. Some of us might not be at that spot. Well…I can do something about this…I can fix this…I’ve got some power…I’ve got some resources…I’ll figure out how to handle all this brokenness.

That’s where Solomon was. Ecclesiastes is a book all about his attempts at getting “over the sun”…of figuring out the brokenness of this life..of breaking through the futility...

Solomon had the resources to try everything to fill the ache…there’s gotta be more…this can’t be all there is…what do we make of this…how do we respond to this…?

He called it toil at the beginning. Futility. How do I break through that futility?

Solomon goes on this quest. He decided first to become a nerd. Get all this knowledge. Fill himself with wisdom. Know exactly how the world works. Figure it all out. Download a bunch of YouTube videos…become an expert on being an expert...

But he found the bottom of it…meaningless…he says.

Alright…who wants to be a nerd anyways. So he goes the other end…I’ll just pursue all the pleasure I can pursue. I’m going to have big massive parties…If it feels good, I’m going to do it. New lady every night, all the booze I can try, every bit of luxury…I’m going to pursue pleasure with everything I’ve got.

But he found the bottom of it…meaningless…he says. It didn’t fix the ache.

Ah, maybe it’s not found in partying…maybe it’s the other way. Maybe I turn this into a Hallmark movie and become that transformed guy with a flannel shirt, a patch beard, a dog, an axe, and a gaping wound that only some lady whose trapped for the holidays in my small town can fix. I’ll be a super nice guy. Awesome morals.

But this too has a bottom. Meaningless....he says. Living out your hallmark movie doesn’t fix the ache.

Well then, I’m just going to give up…do nothing…just sleep all day....ugh, that too is meaningless. I don’t feel any better…I feel worse...

Money…that’s it. I’m going to work hard, apply everything I’ve learned…build this massive kingdom…have so much wealth that the people around me are jealous…nope. This too he found empty. Meaningless. It’s still futile. Doesn’t fix the ache.

Fame? I’ll become an internet celebrity. Everybody will know me…I’ll have all these Instagram followers…and whatever social media is cool these days…MySpace?

Everything Solomon tried came up empty. He had everything at his disposal. He could try these with more vigor than any of us could try. And what he found at the end of the day was emptiness. Futility.

And I’m guessing you know this. There is a reason why there is an iPhone 15. We always have to improve…why? Because things always have a bottom to them…it’s the same thing with fashion, friends, dates, roller coasters…it’s the law of diminishing return. It’s why people get addicted to drugs.

Nothing can satisfy. Our text in Romans 8 tells us why this is the case. It saddles right up next to this newspaper…all of our suffering…all of our pain…all the things we’ve tried to do to fix that ache…all of the emptiness…You’re going to hear that word again here in Romans 8. Listen for it.

Romans 8:18–25 ESV

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

We’ve been talking about hope in a culture of despair. And we’ve seen the false choices of optimism and cynicism. Today we get to talk about hope. I want to define hope for you…I want you to see it and taste it and feel it...

Here’s a picture for you.

What is this...

A cynic is going to say something like, well that’s a horrible amount of dirt and yuck around an empty treasure box. You’re an idiot if you think there’s something valuable in it.

An optimist is going to say what dirt? That’s a treasure box. It’s only a treasure box. And it’s filled with whatever I’m dreaming about in this moment…I’m manifesting a pony inside that thing. Yep, I believe it, it’s there…that settles it. And you’re a legalistic, faith-killing, Jesus-denying fool if you try to tell me something different.

Hope is going to say, that’s a treasure box—housing all the greatest blessings God has for us…but right now its locked and its covered with mud. Some day it will open.

This is what Paul is doing in Romans 8. He says in Romans 8:17

Romans 8:17 ESV

and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.

That’s the treasure box. It’s yours…if you’re in Christ…if you’re one of those along the Jesus path—you know that road marked with suffering…that treasure is yours.

And then he says, that treasure is so amazing that our suffering now won’t even compare to it. It’ll be laughable. That mud around the treasure won’t be a thing at all.

And that’s where the optimist starts to grin. See…ain’t no mud there. That’s biblical. You’re a fool to even think about your pain. No sense acknowledging it. No sense in crying. Glory awaits you.

But that’s not exactly what Paul is saying…listen. The creation waits with eager longing…For the creation was subjected to futility...

That’s our word. Meaninglessness. Vapor. Human sin wrecked everything. It impacted creation. It rippled throughout…like a bomb goes off and it doesn’t just impact the spot where it detonated…it ripples throughout…blowing down trees, impacting the earth around it. The fall has a cosmic impact. It’s why I can’t pet a tiger.

And this is where the cynic starts to smile…but not a happy smile…that sarcastic, see I told you. Idiot for hoping. I’m wise enough to see through all this hope stuff.

But this bomb went off…somehow…oh, great mystery…in hope...

that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.

In other words…the brokenness doesn’t get the last word. The bomb going off isn’t the final story. There is another story…a greater story that is happening over top of all this brokenness...

Verse 22-23 speaks of creation groaning and even we ourselves are groaning…that’s the stuff of Psalm 44. God, where are you? God, why have you forsaken us?

We’re waiting eagerly Paul says, for our adoption as sons…the redemption of our bodies...

Picture this. You’re an orphan. You don’t have a home. You live in a place that sometimes is filled with joy, sometimes filled with pain. You have good days…you have bad days…but everything each day cries out—this isn’t home. I’m not home. I don’t have a home. This isn’t my home.

I want a family. I want to belong. I want to be HOME.

And you get news that adoption papers have been filed. Your parents are going to be picking you up…you are going to go home…but it’s going to take awhile. Oh, how this changes the days.

Sometimes it makes it even more painful. Sometimes it feels like forever…a month is an eternity…the suffering is sharper…but somehow it also loses its edge. Rescue is coming. Home is happening. You don’t know what it looks like, you only know a limited amount about your parents, you know they are good…you just can’t wait. And so you eagerly wait.

That’s what Paul is saying is happening for us. We aren’t home. But home is coming.

For in this hope we are saved. We’re saved…yep…we’re adopted…yep…papers are signed…we’re going home…but we aren’t there yet. And so in the present what we have is hope.

Hope that is seen isn’t hope. You don’t talk about hope when mom and dad show up to take you home. When you see their face…when you touch their skin…when you snuggle up to them…when you can breathe in air you call home…that’s not the stuff of hope.

You don’t hope for what you see. But in the meantime…when you can’t fully see…well you wait…you wait with patience.

And this is what hope is. Hope…I think I’m going to use this definition…Hope is the happy confidence that the gospel gets the final word.

That’s what Paul is saying here in Romans 8. Notice how its both truth and beauty merging. He acknowledge our present suffering…we’re waiting…we’re longing…it’s hurting.

And that’s what I often say if I use this as a text to preach at a sermon. We sometime use this truth to try to diminish our present pain. Oh, push that tear in. Things are better. Don’t cry in the present.

But that’s so not what Jesus does. He’s weeping at the funeral of Lazarus. He knows he’s going to heal him. He knows that death doesn’t get the final word. But he weeps because death is awful. Death is the enemy.

And what this means…if we really press into this pain…if we really acknowledge our newspaper…if we really feel the weightiness of futility as Solomon did…then we can (in hope) say…how wonderful and beautiful and sweet must Jesus be if we look back upon this…this horrible and awful thing…and say, “oh that’s not even worth comparing.”

Oh my! Because there are really painful thing. Things that define my existence here. Things which have shaped me. Things which are profoundly harmful. And things which I feel the brokenness even in my body…

Jesus isn’t saying this to minimize those things. This isn’t doing what optimism does. No…this is saying, when you see redemption…when you see all that happens…when you get home…you won’t remember waiting at the orphanage. It’ll won’t even be worth comparing.

Hope is that the gospel gets the last word.

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Picture a scene. You are standing before the Lord and book upon book is being read telling the story of your life. But this isn’t a sitting around the fireplace and hearing grandpa’s old stories occasion. This is a trial. Your life and your words are testifying as to whether or not you’re to be considered a good person.

Now this isn’t the type of trial you get on the day of your funeral. That’s the day when mostly your friends and family show up and everybody works to remember all the good times and to minimize the bad. This trial isn’t like that. You’ve got critics and sycophants present. You’ve got words against you and words for you. Evidence of words you’ve spoken, written, and even things that you’ve thought. A display of the impact of your life. It’s social media run wild and you’re the topic. It’s your fifteen minutes of fame. And you’re getting torched…with only a few positives throw in here and there.

“He was a hypocrite. His words didn’t match his lifestyle.”

“He was one of the best counselors I ever had. He helped me more than anyone else.”

“He was a terribly sloppy pastor. His hair was often wilder than it should have been, his beard wasn’t neatly trimmed, he seldom wore a suit. He was a bad representation of what a minister of the gospel ought to be.”

“He was the one who shared Jesus with me.”

“His theology was sloppy and inconsistent. He didn’t believe some of the things that I’ve believed for years. I’m not even sure if he was a believer”

“He was incredibly selfish. He viewed everything through the lens of himself.”

“He was a gossip. He slandered others and then was mortally wounded when he was slandered himself.”

“He hurt me.”

“He failed me.”

“He was lazy and passive. He never became the person that he could have been. He buried quite a few talents”.

Some of those opinions are grounded in truth. They match the replay of your life. You really were more selfish than you should have been. You really did cause hurt. But you also were used by God to help people see the glory of Jesus. It’s a mixed bag. Connected with all of these opinions is a mountain of evidence against you. And the Accuser is quick to point out every one of these flaws.

He’s correct. He’s not fabricating a bit. He’s right. You are cursed and gone astray. You fall short of the glory of God. You did hurt people. You did sin against the God of the Universe. You aren’t holy. You do not have any righteousness of your own. You did bury a few talents. You’re not clean. You’ve mucked up your life at times.

Then Jesus stands up…

The gospel gets the last word. That is what 1 Peter 1:25 means. All of the critics, all of the defenders, they don’t get the last word. Neither do we. “I did many great things in your name…” The gospel speaks last. And it’s word is definitive.

That’s either really great news. Or it’s terrible.

It brings me to tears because I know what Jesus will say. I don’t know the specific words that he’ll use. But I know that he has my back. Not because of my own righteousness but because of His. I know that He has truly changed my heart and my life. I know that he sees every ounce of my toil and labor and every bit of my sloppy obedience. I know that he sees my every failure. He knows my every sin against him. And yet he stands in my defense.

“He’s mine.”

Maybe that’s what he’ll say. And when he belts out those words…nothing else matters. All the critics. All the applause. All the mountains. All the valleys. All the days in the darkness of depression. The mountain of my sin against him and others. Every drop of sweat in ministry for others. It all crumbles. And only his Word remains.

It’s not that sin doesn’t matter. It’s not that good doesn’t matter. It’s just that it isn’t definitive. It doesn’t get the last word.

Jesus does.

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This newspaper doesn’t get the last word.

Hope is ultimately a person. That is why 1 Peter speaks of a Living Hope. Our hope rests entirely on Jesus. My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and righteousness…Our hope is anchored in who He is and what He has accomplished.

Hope is a person. It’s a happy confidence that the gospel gets the last word. What does that mean for you? Is this where your hope is found?

If it is, how is that impacting your life? Is that just something stowed away…as if hope is only reserved for the future and it isn’t living and here and impacting the present?

Is Christ your hope? Or is it something/someone else? Where are you dropping anchor. Do you have this hope? Jesus gets the last word…what does He say?