Psalms in Real Life: Future Hope

Most of us know what that is. It’s a race where the course is deliberately difficult. And as they’ve gotten more popular, they’ve gotten more… insane. Like, you don’t just run through mud… you run through electrically charged wires. Crazy stuff.

But my friends who do it describe it as “fun.” “Yeah… we had a lot of fun.”

To which I respond:

“I don’t think you know what ‘fun’ means.”

But it goes both ways.

I do a lot of hunting - mostly deer and turkey. I’d describe it as fun. But to someone else, the idea of… getting up at 3:30 in the morning… to go sit in the cold for hours on end… calling to birds who absolutely refuse to come anywhere near you… or to plunge your hands into an animal’s guts and drag its carcass a couple of hundred yards...

Not everyone’s idea of a good time, turns out. I can’t tell you how many hunting stories I’ve told to someone where, at about the midpoint of the story, it’s all over their face:

Not how they’d define “fun.”

“I don’t think you know what that word means.”

Transition: Psalms in Real Life - Future Hope

As we conclude our series in the Psalms this weekend, you might feel the same way about a different word - so let’s just name it and get out ahead of it right now. It’s a huge theme in the Psalms - but it often doesn’t match up with our idea. Here’s what we’re talking about this weekend:

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Hope.

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Hope. All kinds of hope and hopefulness in the Psalms.

But as we dig into it, here’s what we’re going to find:

How the Psalms describes “hope,” and how we describe it… might be two different things. We might start feeling like we have to educate the Psalmist a little bit on what hope actually is.

Open up with me to Psalm 118.

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Psalm 118

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(How to find… verses on the screen…)

As you find it, let me tell you a little bit about how God’s people have used this particular Psalm throughout history.

Psalm 118 was sung as a “processional song” as priests entered the temple during the “Feast of Tabernacles.” Kinda like a the wedding party has a processional song as they enter the room and make their way up front; that kind of feel—this was the song that was sung as people remembered how good it was to have a permanent home and place to worship every year as they walked to the temple.

It was also sung at the end of the Passover meal, which commemorated God’s deliverance of his people from slavery in Egypt. So, you would have had memories of singing this song around your family’s table every year.

But it wasn’t just a part of Jewish life way back when. All four Gospel writers - Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John - all four of them use the words of Psalm 118:26 - as they explain the meaning of one of Jesus’ parables. Peter quotes it in Acts 4:11. Paul alludes to it in Ephesians 2:20-21. And if you grew up in a liturgical church - a church that followed the Christian calendar with the same weekly themes and readings - this is standard Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday readings.

In other words:

This is a pretty widely-used Psalm - in part, because it captures in the span of a few verses the essence of what it’s like to hope in God.

Exegesis: Psalm 118:1-14

So let’s dive into it. Verse 1:

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Psalm 118:1 “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.”

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(Repeat.) Verses 2-4 echo this same idea, telling “Israel” (God’s chosen people), the “house of Aaron” (God’s chosen priests), and “those who fear the LORD” (anyone who knows God personally) to agree and sing along.

But it’s really the foundation of our hope:

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Our hope rests entirely, from beginning to end, on God’s love for us.

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That’s how the Psalm begins in the first 4 verses, and we’ll see that’s how it’s bookended as well in the last verse, verse 29. Our hope rests entirely, from beginning to end, on God’s love for us.

Now, that word “love” that you see there in English is trying to translate a Hebrew word that is actually packed with meaning. There’s like four different nuanced ideas all wrapped up into one Hebrew word. It’s the word hesed:

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Our hope rests entirely, from beginning to end, on God’s love for us.

God’s love = hesed:

lovingkindness, mercy, graciousness

loyalty, joint obligation

faithfulness, goodness, graciousness

godly action

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That word hesed that we translate as love means all of those things.

When the Bible says that God “loves” you, here’s what it’s saying:

It feels like mercy: not getting the punishment you deserve.

It feels like grace: getting gifts that you don’t deserve.

It feels like a commitment: like he’s going to keep up his end of the bargain, no matter what.

It feels like faithfulness: like he’s going to be there for you, and that he’ll be the same guy, always just as good as he ever was all the time.

And it’s not just an idea; it’s tangible. You can point to how God has acted in these kinds of way in your life.

Our hope rests on God’s love for us—but it’s that kind of love.

Transition

Which is great, right? But also… kinda expected. I mean… that’s what you’d expect that from God, from someone who claims to be perfectly good, right? That doesn’t feel hard to understand or different than what we’d expect. Seems like the Bible knows exactly what hope means, and it matches up pretty closely with how we’d define it.

But as you read what’s between the bookends of this hesed, this kind of love that God expresses toward us that we can count on and put our hope in, what you’re going to see is this:

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While the definition of God’s love might be what you would expect,

You’ll often encounter it in ways that you wouldn’t.

Hope often springs from encounters with God’s love

In the places and circumstances you’d least expect.

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Our definition of it is what you’d expect. But our experience with it—our experience with it—isn’t.

Illustration: Ford v. Ferrari

Have you ever had the experience where you thought you knew something—you thought you knew it or you got it; you understood it—but it wasn’t until you experienced it that you went like,

“Oh… now I get it. Now I get it.”

One of my favorite movies of the past few years was “Ford v. Ferrari.” If you missed it, it tells the story of how the Ford Motor Company back in 1966 partnered with a former racer and auto designer, Carroll Shelby, and the British driver, Ken Miles, to try and compete against the perennial winner of the LeMans 24 hour race, Ferrari.

Great movie, by the way. Matt Damon, Christian Bale… just great.

Anyways: back in 1966, Henry Ford II (grandson of Edsel Ford who founded Ford Motor Company) is CEO. But he’s put a bunch of bean counters and engineers in charge of this racing project. And they refuse to listen to the advice and feedback of the designer and driver—you know, the guys on the ground.

And so there’s the great scene in the movie where Carroll Shelby and Ken Miles conspire to lock the corporate suits in an office while they bait Henry Ford II into the race car with Carroll.

And the idea is this:

If they can get him to experience just how terrifying it is to go that fast, but also experience how incredible the driver and designer must be to do it, then just maybe Henry will put them in charge of the project.

Well… that’s exactly what happens. And so at the end of this sequence when they’re tearing around the track, Henry gets increasingly panicked.

And then suddenly, it all comes to a stop. Tires squealing, car swerving, smoke everywhere… but then, silence and stillness.

And then the camera pans to Henry—who, after taking a second to gather himself...

SHOW PICTURE - HENRY FORD II

Balls. Cries for a good 15 seconds.

And then wets himself.

Carroll asks, “Mr. Ford… Mr. Ford—are you all right?”

And Henry says, “I had no idea. No idea.”

He thought he knew—until he experienced it.

That’s what the Psalmist is about to do for us in verses 5-28. He talks about God’s love—but then he’s gonna share what it was like to experience it. You think you get it—but then you experience it. And it wasn’t at all like you thought.

Start reading with me in verse 5:

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Psalm 118:5 “When hard pressed, I cried to the Lord; he brought me into a spacious place.”

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That word “hard pressed” isn’t one that we use a lot today. It’s got a few ideas attached to it: anguish, distress, pain… but really at it’s core is this idea of “narrow straits.” Narrow straits.

Every morning as I back out of my garage, I’ve got pretty narrow straights. My wife gets to cruise straight in, hop out, and go on her merry way (mostly because she drives our SUV). But I drive a sedan. And for me to get in and out of that garage, I gotta crank that thing all the way to the left, back out slowly so I don’t hit the side of the garage, then straighten the wheel out (but not too much), or I’ll hit my wife’s car on the way out. Narrow straights.

And I’ll tell you: about every other time I do it, I think:

My son might be driving in two years.

No way am I letting him do this.

Remember when you first parallel parked as a beginning driver? Or backed out of the garage? Or got on the highway for the first time?

It was stressful, right?

(And if it wasn’t, I’m betting you also got about 5 speeding tickets before that cautious muscle kicked in for you.)

That’s really the idea of this word “hard pressed.” Narrow straits.

Remember what we said:

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Hope often springs from encounters with God’s love in the places and circumstances you’d least expect:

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Well, for the psalmist, here’s the first one:

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Hope often springs from encounters with God’s love in the places and circumstances you’d least expect:

Under pressure.

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Under pressure.

Not where you’d expect hope to spring up. Not where you’d expect to experience God’s love.

But this is what the Psalmist is saying: he found it when he was under pressure.

Let me just read the next few verses here so that you get the picture. Because what he’s describing is a literal battle scene. Like, he was in a battle—swords, clubs, all of it—hard pressed—and that’s the place where he experienced this kind of hope.

Listen to this (or follow along with me):

Psalm 118:5-14

“When hard pressed, I cried to the Lord;

he brought me into a spacious place.

The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid.

What can mere mortals do to me?

The Lord is with me; he is my helper.

I look in triumph on my enemies.

It is better to take refuge in the Lord

than to trust in humans.

It is better to take refuge in the Lord

than to trust in princes.

All the nations surrounded me,

but in the name of the Lord I cut them down.

They surrounded me on every side,

but in the name of the Lord I cut them down.

They swarmed around me like bees,

but they were consumed as quickly as burning thorns;

in the name of the Lord I cut them down.

I was pushed back and about to fall,

but the Lord helped me.

The Lord is my strength and my defense;

he has become my salvation.”

Do we have any “Last Kingdom” fans in the audience? Last Kingdom is a Netflix series that tells the story of the rise of King Edward and the origin of England. (And, just so you know: it’s not something I’d watch with my kids. But it’s a pretty fascinating story.) The crazy part about it is that King Edward was fighting a war on two fronts: he was fighting against different Anglo tribes, but also the Danes—Vikings.

Series really tells the story of Uhtred, son of Uhtred—a Dane who was captured and raised by Englishmen. And he’s a “king without a country” for most of the series. But in one of the final episodes, he and his army are outmanned and are being pushed off a literal cliff. Soldiers are falling to his left and his right to their deaths. His face is pressed against his shield, his shield pressed against the enemy.

But then at the last minute, an army of allies swoops in down the hill, engages his enemies, and suddenly...

Space. Space to maneuver. Space to breathe again. Space to fight.

That’s the picture. In that place of pressure, God provided space. Surrounded on every side, swarming like bees… but then suddenly, space.

Here’s the learning for us:

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When the pressure mounts, give God some room.

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(Explain.)

Exegesis: Psalm 115:15-23

Okay.

Let’s read the rest of the Psalm together. As we do, recall what we said at the top—that parts of this Psalm are quoted by all 4 Gospel writers, as well as by Peter and Paul as they wrote parts of the New Testament. We’ll be putting some of those on the screen as we read them.

But let’s start reading in verse 15 togehter:

Psalm 118:15-21

“Shouts of joy and victory

resound in the tents of the righteous:

“The Lord’s right hand has done mighty things!

The Lord’s right hand is lifted high;

the Lord’s right hand has done mighty things!”

I will not die but live,

and will proclaim what the Lord has done.

The Lord has chastened me severely,

but he has not given me over to death.

Open for me the gates of the righteous;

I will enter and give thanks to the Lord.

This is the gate of the Lord

through which the righteous may enter.

I will give you thanks, for you answered me;

you have become my salvation.”

And then we get to verse 22:

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Psalm 118:22-23

“The stone the builders rejected

has become the cornerstone;

the LORD has done this,

and it is marvelous in our eyes.”

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So if that verse sounds familiar to you, it’s because Jesus quotes it as the explanation for a parable he told.

This particular parable of Jesus’ is the one where he tells the story of the owner of a vineyard who sends employees to collect payment from those who were renting it to grow grapes. But the renters either beat them up or killed them.

Finally, the owner sends his own son—and the tenants conspire to kill him in an attempt to completely cut off the owner and take over the vineyard for themselves.

And as Jesus finishes telling the story, he quotes verses 22 & 23 of our Psalm as he says:

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Mark 12:9 ““What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and kill those tenants and give the vineyard to others.”

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In the parable, the owner of the vineyard is God. The owner’s son, of course, is Jesus.

And here’s what Jesus is saying:

You’re gonna kill me, just like the renters in the story.

But don’t for a second think that just because God lets that happen that you’re somehow now in charge.

He’s still in charge.

You might reject me—but it’s me on whom God will build a new humanity, a new family, and a new world.

Jesus says: God will use me, the one you rejected, as the cornerstone.

Here’s the point:

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Hope often springs from encounters with God’s love in the places and circumstances you’d least expect:

Under pressure.

Through patterns of pain.

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That’s what’s so unexpected about it. See, we flee pressure. Stress. Narrow straits. No thanks. That’s why we live in Iowa. You can see the horizon in every direction anywhere you go.

And we flee pain, too. Nobody’s running to seasons of pain. Nobody invites pain into their lives (except the tough mudder crazies).

But God has this incredible pattern:

It’s in those times of pain that we experience his hesed faithful love.

And it’s through those times of pain where he proves himself to be faithful, near, good, and powerful that hope springs up.

It happened for the Psalmist. It repeated in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

It repeated again for Paul (which is why he wrote about it).

It repeated again for Peter (which is why he wrote about it).

And there are those in the room with you today who would testify to it as well: works the same way today.

Here’s the lesson for us:

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One day we’ll be free from pain. But the pattern until that day is this:

God’s hope often finds us in our pain.

So: ask for it. Look for it. Expect it.

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(End with “13 Lives” story.)

SHOW “13 LIVES PICTURE”

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