Sermon Tone Analysis

Bible

A New Hope

Forty-four years ago a little movie came out.

It is known as “A New Hope.”

Anyone seen it?

That’s right, it’s the first Star Wars movie.

Does anyone know what the “new hope” mentioned in the title (which was applied later) refers to?

It’s probably Luke Skywalker, the new Jedi, but maybe the rebellion.

I saw the next movie in the drive-in when it came out: The Empire Strikes Back.

It was really exciting, and left you with a cliff-hanger for the third movie, Return of the Jedi, which revealed that the hope from episode 4 was worth pursuing, as Luke won back Vader and defeated the emperor and therefore the empire.

But in recent years, the story has continued in the sequel trilogy.

And what happens?

Spoiler alert: the emperor still lives, the Jedi have failed, and that “new hope” has been failed and been discarded for the lastest hope.

So Star Wars’ new hope turns out to be an empty hope.

Strangely, the fantasy of Star Wars accurately reflects the reality of our world.

It is tragic, but this is the only sort of hope that the world knows.

You just need to think about how we use the word “hope.”

We say things like “I hope to do such-and-such.”

Or, “I hope you get better.”

Or, “Hopefully, I’ll pass this exam.”

Our world’s version of hope is merely an expression of a wish or a desire for something.

Biblical Hope

But hope in the Bible is different.

The New Testament Greek word for hope comes in only two forms, the verb ἐλπίζειν (elpizein), and the noun ἐλπίς (elpis).

Hope never occurs as an adverb or adjective, because it never describes a subjective state of mind.

In the New Testament, hope is either a concrete reality (in this hope we were saved) or a concrete action (we hope for what we do not see).

It is never merely a state of mind.

Hope is the certain expectation of what is still to come.

Hope in the Magnificat

Mary shows incredible hope in her wonderful song of praise to God, traditionally called the Magnificat.

She sings it before Jesus is born, before she has seen any of God’s promises come true.

And so it is a song of hope.

This song of hope is such a contrast to Zechariah’s skepticism.

Zechariah was a priest in the noble line of Aaron, chosen to serve God in the Holy of Holies of the great temple of Jerusalem.

He was at the centre of religious practice in Israel, theoretically the closest to God.

Yet he scoffed at God’s revelation that he received there.

Yet here we find Mary: an unmarried, pregnant, poor girl from a backwater town, and she simply trusts and then praises God in the confident hope that his promises will come true.

Mary’s song starts with praise for what God is doing through her.

But then she turns to praise for what God will do through Jesus.

And when she does that, an interesting thing happens.

She suddenly starts using the past tense!

Why would she be singing of things yet to come as if they were in the past?

In fact, this is a common pattern in the Bible, and it occurs both in the Hebrew of the Old Testament and the Greek of the New Testament.

You see, God’s prophets and faithful people wanted a way to express how completely confident they were that God’s promises would come true, and so they used the past tense to talk about things that God would do in the future.

God’s promises are so sure, you see, that it’s as if they have already happened.

God’s word is as unchangeable as the past.

Hope vs Faith

Now for Greek and Hebrew cultures, words were powerful, but we belong to a more visual culture.

So how can we visualise this concept of hope?

And, while we’re at it, what’s the difference between hope and faith?

I want you to imagine a ship floating in a harbour.

If the ship wants to stay in one place in the harbour, what does it do?

That’s right, it puts down an anchor.

Hope is like an anchor.

It sticks into the floor of the sea and doesn’t move, holding the ship in place.

Faith, on the other hand, is like the anchor chain.

It connects the ship to the anchor and ensures that the ship stays wherever the anchor is fixed.

Our faith connects us to the immovable hope of God’s promises.

Jesus Christ, our hope

Now, in a world where hopes are dashed by things called “variants,” where we place our hope in what’s under the Christmas tree, or in the security of our job, or in a vaccine, we will never be happy.

We will always be disappointed.

And each disappointment makes our wound deeper, until we have lost all joy.

That’s why you hear about grumpy old men, but not grumpy young boys.

Sure, we can be fooled by enough sunshine and beauty to forget the dark truth that Solomon reminded us of: that everything under the sun is meaningless, because it all comes to nothing.

That’s the peril of the Gold Coast, it’s such a beautiful place that its residents can easily think they’ve found paradise.

Especially those who live in Paradise Point!

But lurking beneath that beauty is the ugliness of unemployment, disappointment, sickness, relational breakdown, and, ultimately, death.

But Jesus offers us a hope, an anchor, that is set in the bedrock of the future world, the world beyond this one.

The world Jesus promises us, with words as certain as if they had already happened, is a world where everything unfair, uncertain, and unclean is made just, and sure, and brilliantly clean!

Paradise Point will seem like a filthy stable compared to the humblest corner of the new world.

My misplaced hope

There are so many times I have misplaced my hope, anchoring it in this world instead of in Jesus.

When I was young, growing up in Charters Towers, I used to dream of creating a world-spanning car manufacturing empire, based in Charters Towers.

How silly that seems now.

Then later I hoped to be like the apostle Paul, striding across the world stage, transforming people and countries with my brilliant theological insights.

I was soon realised that God had other plans for me.

Then I thought I could transform people’s life balance with an amazing smartphone app that almost read their minds, all while maintaining their privacy and supporting advertising at the same time.

Again, my hopes were dashed and I had to face God’s plans for me.

Whenever we place our hope in people, or in things of this world, or in our own plans, we will be disappointed.

The famous beginning of Psalm 127 states it forcefully:

Where is our anchor?

As we approach Christmas, we have an opportunity to think about where we have placed our anchor, our hope.

Is our anchor hooked deep in our past struggles, dragging us backwards?

Is our anchor hooked into our present fantasies and worries, keeping us from moving forward?

Is our anchor in the things we buy—houses, cars, computers, clothes, an education?

Or perhaps in the work we do, or the people we love, or even in the church we serve in.

All of these keep us bound to this earth.

Christmas challenges us to pull up our anchor from the things of this world, and to let our anchor down into the only secure rock: into Jesus Christ and his work of salvation.

That is where Mary placed her hope.

No storm can unseat an anchor set in Jesus.

Even the cross did not destroy Mary.

The apostle Paul writes to the church in Ephesus,

When we anchor our lives in this hope—one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all—we can be certain that we’ll make it to the far shores on the other side of death.

And our hopes will be fulfilled forevermore.

Amen.