Grace to you and peace…
Peace. Doesn't that sound good this morning? Thinking back over the last few
years – the pandemic officially began three years ago, this week – and
everything that has stirred up the world. The virus, the war in Ukraine, the
economy, what the bug did to families with the death and health issues, let alone
other non-covid health problems. Politics has become verbally and physically
violent, a white-collar contact sport. Society is on edge from wokeness and
brokenness. Black lives matter, blue lives matter, unborn lives matter. Can I
afford college? Can I afford to not go to college? Fifty years ago, Dr. Thomas
Harris wrote a book, “I’m OK, You’re OK.” I wonder what he would title it
today? Google searches for “how to deal
with anxiety” or “how to deal with worry” are at an all time. Anxiety fuels
fear and fear fuels anxiety. I’m OK, you’re OK, really? Is anyone OK? Peace…something
so simple, now so taken for granted.
I want you to know this morning, every morning, noon and night, you have peace
inspite – despite! – what the world, your mind, and even Satan Himself tries to
tell you. But to understand this, I need you to rethink peace. Peace, by
definition, is not absence of war. It isn’t absence of conflict or lack of
fear. Peace means unity, harmony, wholeness through restoration. In Christ, you
do have peace, beyond worldly understanding. In Christ, God has been pacified
and you have been restored in Christ's death and resurrection. You are
justified – declared holy – by God’s merciful gift of Jesus and this is
delivered to you by the Holy Spirit from faith.
Faith. That is always an important word, but it will be particularly important
in these difficult days. The book of Hebrews defines faith as “the substance of
things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen,” Heb 11:1. Your faith is
from God. You do not trust your faith itself; that ebbs and flows. Your faith
rests in Christ Jesus, your Lord and Savior.
Through Christ, you have access by faith into the grace of God. I want you to
have a picture here of a room, a large room, that is warm and inviting.
"Access" means entrance. By faith we have entrance into this grace in
which we stand. By faith I walk into that room and the name of the room is
grace. The ceiling, walls, floor—all grace. You live inside God’s grace, his
love, his forgiveness, completely surrounded by it. That means you’re always
forgiven. You must not think of forgiveness as something that takes place in
your life every once in awhile, that you pile up sins for a time and then you
get forgiven. You’re forgiven all the time.
People say, "I hope I don’t die while I’m sinning." People like that
don’t know what sin is. Of course you’re going to die while you’re sinning. You
sin because you’re a sinner; you aren’t a sinner because you sin. All of us are
far short of what we ought to be all the time (Romans 3, 23). See, the law
tells us how we are to be and not to be, and what we ought to do and not to do.
Not being what we ought to be is also a sin. The Law demands perfection (Lev.
19,2). If you’re not perfect you’ve living in sin. But even if you’re sinning
all the time, you’re forgiven all the time. You’re living inside the
forgiveness of sin. If you die when you’re not thinking about Jesus, you still
die as a believer.
People say, "I hope that I have a chance to repent before I die."
That’s not right. The whole life of a believer ought to be one of repentance.
See, believing doesn’t mean that you feel good all the time, and repenting
doesn’t mean that you feel bad all the time. Repenting just means knowing that
you’re a sinner who deserves to go to hell. Being scared to die without Jesus,
that’s contrition. And faith is knowing that Jesus forgives you all the time,
every minute of the day you are forgiven. When you die without having a chance
to repent consciously, you still die as a person who knows that he’s a sinner
and that Jesus died for him. How many times during the day do you think of the
fact that 2 + 2 = 4? Did you know that last night when you were sound asleep?
You sure did. Did you know that this morning? Certainly. And so I know that all
the time that Jesus is my Savior, whatever happens to me.
Living in Christ’s forgiveness, "we rejoice in hope of the glory of
God" (Rom. 5,2). Here "the glory of God" is the praise that God
gives us. Someday when we stand before God, what’s He going to say? "Well
done, thou good and faithful servant" (Matt. 5,21). You will say,
"But when did I ever do anything good?? He will say, "That’s alright,
Jesus did it all for you. Well done, you kept all my commandments." So we
look forward to Judgment Day when God will say, "You’re not guilty."
We "rejoice in hope" that that’s the way it’s going to be. We know
it’s true now, by faith. Then we’ll hear it with our own ears from the mouth of
God Himself. Now we hear it from human preachers, but then Jesus Himself will
say it. "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for
you from the foundation of the world" (Matt. 25, 34).
This is the source of the hope we have in God: the grace given you by Jesus.
I’ve said it before, it begs to be said again. When I use the word hope, I
don’t mean the false one-in-a-billion hope of winning the lottery, or I hope
the IRS doesn’t audit me, or something like that. Christian hope is one giant
exclamation point. Some of you remember Victor Borge – he would do a schtick
where he would read a section of a book and actually vocalize the punctuation.
YouTube him and watch some of his routine – you have time, now. If Victor Borge
were here, he would read every word “hope” in the Bible with the sound of an exclamation
point. Christian hope is certain, not maybe; it is confident, not wishy-washy;
it is definite, not a mere possibility. Hope is in Christ. Christ does not
change, He does not schwaffle. Therefore you hope does not change, either.
Because of that, you are able to rejoice today, even in the midst of the chaos
that is swirling around us. You don’t rejoice because of it, but in it. Our
translation says “we rejoice in our sufferings.” A better, and little-less
wooden translation is “we rejoice in the face of external pressure.” I think
that today’s climate counts as external pressure, don’t you, and it opens this
up a little more for us. Suffering has a deep and dark connotation. I don’t
know any of us are really suffering. But all of us are facing some level of
external pressure. Concerns about the economy, your job, your blood pressure,
your weight, your loved ones, what to do with the kids during spring break,
trying afford groceries – I could go on. These are present-tense struggles and
pressures. Yet, in the midst of them, we as children of God have hope. Hope
that enables us to speak and act in love in the midst of this; hope that looks
forward in faith; hope that God desires to move us ahead in His grace.
Pressure is accompanied by patient endurance. Ever notice how when things get
tough, someone – well intended, of course – will tell you to “hang on”? How do
you hang on when the last thread is fraying fast? What happens when you’re
losing your grip? Know this: This isn’t you “hanging on.” This is God standing
us up in His grace. It’s His gift and He grants it in just the right amount
that you need. In fact, it might be helpful to think of endurance less in terms
of quantity than quality. That room of grace? He holds us in His perfect grace
and keeps us standing firm. Where God sustains faith, He also uses pressure to
produce endurance of faith.
Patient endurance is accomplished by tested character. Here is a good picture
of how this works. Do you know how gold and silver is made pure? By melting it
down. It’s put into high heat and melted into a pool of metal. But, what is
remarkable is that because these metals are so dense, the garbage – the dirt
and undesired other metals – float to the surface where it is skimmed off.
That’s called the dross; it’s garbage. This happens many times, as heat
continues to be applied and the gunk skimmed away. When the gold and silver is
finally taken off the heat, it is left pure – just gold, just silver, nothing
else. In the midst of patient endurance in the crucible, God is defining and
refining our character. He is stripping away from us in these days anything
that we have made as a god, something other than Him that we fear love and
trust. What we are left with is Jesus. Life is hard right now, and our Lord strips
away layer after layer away that would want to compete with faith in Him. Life
narrows down and crisis comes. Suddenly, there is only one thing that matters.
And, there in the narrow place, stands Jesus.
And in Jesus is our hope. You have hope because while we were yet sinners –
talk about a hopeless situation!!! – Christ died for you. If God was willing to
surrender His holy and only-begotten Son for the likes of you and me, to rescue
us from the eternal separation that our sins deserve but that God’s love would
not allow; if God kept His promises, all of them, to send a Savior, a Redeemer,
a Messiah, a Christ, to be the once-for-all-sacrifice; if Christ died and rose
from the dead, completing those promises; then there is truly hope. It is the
faith-filled, endurance-driven, character-building hope in the promises of God
which are always yes and amen in Christ Jesus.
This is a process that Paul describes. It’s a process of maturing, growing in
faith. But the faith in the love of God poured into our hearts – that faith
does not change. This is God’s intention: to accomplish patient endurance,
which leads to approved character, which returns to hope that trusts in the
mercy of God in Christ from faith.
As you leave here today, you get to live in that faith-filled hope. Live –
that’s the key word. We’re in a world of hand-wringers and chin rubbers. I know
– I am one of them. So live and speak in hope. Luther was once asked what he
would do if he knew the end of the world was tomorrow. He simply answered,
"Plant a tree." In other words, live today in the sure and certain
hope of tomorrow as a child of God. Instead of hand-wringing, fold them in
faithful prayer. Instead of frowning in worry, laugh at your dog’s goofiness. Instead
of throwing up your hands in surrender, cling to the promises of God. Smile.
Give thanks for God's goodness.
And others around you will see it. They will ask you about it – how can
you rejoice in times like this? How can you be so hopeful? Be prepared to give
an answer. Tell them about the hope (!) that is yours in Christ. Amen.
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