Christ our Hope Anglican Church Valparaiso

As Christ unseals the scrolls of God's plan, we find evil run rampant. Those with authority use it to oppress. Those with might use it to make war. Those with wealth use it gather up luxury for themselves at the expense of the weakest and poorest. But in the midst of it all, the Lamb stands triumphant and calls us to trust him with justice.

In this chapter of John’s Revelation of Jesus, we see the purpose of the Son — to restore all of creation to the right worship of God and to reconcile all things with God. Ultimately, he has accomplished our daily prayer: a re-creation of the world in which the Father's name is hallowed, his will is done, and his kingdom extends throughout all of heaven and earth.

Jesus reveals to us God's throne. This the farthest place from sin and our earthly understanding, yet this is where we will all be going, this is our goal, our end, the purpose for which we have been created: to see God, to love Him, and to worship Him.

We called to witness and worship — to witness BY worship— and we are tempted always toward self-reliance, self-deceit, and compromise with the powers of the world that offer us peace, security, acceptance, and comfort if only we will be willing to accommodate the status quo.

The one whose mouth is a sword speaks and cuts away all the coverings and reveals what is at stake: conquer or be conquered. Conform or be transformed. Follow the Lord of all, or follow the pretender who seeks to subjugate God's people to himself. In this book, there's a lot of mystery, but there's no moral ambiguity — there are only two ways: the way that leads to life and the way that leads to death.

What is visible on earth is not the angelic victory choirs, nor the sunshine face and sword mouth of the glorious son of man, nor the burning lights of the angels of the churches. All we see is this lone pastor praying alone on his prison isle. And yet… when the Lord speaks, reality itself is uncovered and we realized that things were not as they appeared.

If the question of apocalyptic literature is to ask "what's really going on? who is really in charge of the world?" then the definitive answer of John's Revelation is clear: the God who led Israel out of Egypt, the God who created the world, the God who sent Jesus Christ to redeem his people, is the absolute king of heaven and earth.

The promise of God to his people is that although our sin makes his life-giving face destruction for us, he shows mercy. He comes to restore us—to remake us—so that by his Spirit we might be made capable of receiving the life that only comes from his face and the glory that shines out from his presence.

The Psalmist calls all people to the joy of flourishing in the presence and knowledge of God. He calls all to come into the pasture of the one good shepherd — calls us to dwell in joy by expressing a rightful thanksgiving — and the joy is found and the thanksgiving flows from this knowing. Knowing that the God who made the world also made us, and he didn’t then turn away, but instead thinks of us as his people, and even walks with us as our protector, and provider.

The God of the Cosmos turns our “awake and save us” back toward us. He says, “I am awake. Now you wake up and be saved.” We cry out for his help, and the grace and goodness of God is that he reaches out in power to give it.

The uncomfortable message of Jesus is that the Son of Man — the glorious King, the promised Messiah — has not come to primarily to save his people from their difficult circumstances… from Rome, from powerful men with evil in their hearts, from the broken systems of injustice… not yet. First, he comes to save his people from themselves.

If we understand what Paul is saying here, we actually will have the internal delight and quiet confidence that we think of when we use the words “joy” and “peace”, but it’s important to understand that we’re not called to have that state in spite of our circumstances but because of them. Because Jesus really is that good and kind and lovely, because the deepest powers of the universe really are at work on our behalf… that’s where our peace and joy come from.

We are citizens of Jesus’ kingdom, called to live here on earth like people whose whole identity is caught up in our King. As a result, we live as people whose law, values, rights, and obligations are defined by a totally different standard than the people around us.

We don’t earn our status before God, we don’t obtain it through our own strivings, rather we come to Jesus, the center of all things, and at his feet we kneel, cast all things aside, and trust ourselves completely to him.

Paul is full of joy because he can see that his service to the gospel is bringing glory to the Messiah, and so he can be confident that his life is going exactly how it’s supposed to go. Whether he lives or dies, he proclaims Jesus either way.

The transfiguration is one of the major revelatory events of Jesus' life. The Father gives us the command to listen to Jesus. This is the command we take with us, as Jesus walks with us down from the mountain top experience and back into the valley of normal and sometimes dark days of regular life.

Jesus shows us love that dignifies, that speaks truth, and that treats even his enemies as people—as image bearers, as those created by God and called by God to good purposes, even if they refuse to treat him in that way. He came to show the Father’s love, and made himself low to raise us up.

Jesus is the man the psalmist celebrates, and he is the “blessed one” spoke of in the beatitudes. He the man who walks not in the council of the wicked, the tree planted by streams of water. And his blessing looks like an all-powerful king descending into poverty; it looks like a man who mourns the consequences of a rebellion he did not authorize, so that the very ones who hate him might enter into joy. Jesus becomes poor to make us rich, and he invites us into a life that looks like his.

When Jesus shows up and invites us into the blessing of obedience, it’s likely to feel at the moment like a burden. But if we trust him, and say yes to his good plans, we will find that he gives us good things—often even better than what we thought we wanted.

In Christ—the fulfillment of the law and the fulfillment of Israel's calling—God accomplishes the promise and the purpose of the law and of Israel. In him, the God of Israel reconciles himself with the people of all nations, humans who have been so twisted by sin that even when we encounter his goodness our impulse is often to recoil from him so we can maintain our own illusion of control.

Here we have the hard and overwhelming word—all roads must lead us to this one and to him alone: Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God, who comes to proclaim good news to the poor. And the good news he proclaims is himself. He comes to set at liberty those who are oppressed, and the Liberty is him and only him. "Today, in your hearing" this word is fulfilled.

God has been preparing a great celebration and he invites us, not because we have anything to bring, but because "as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you".

But this beloved one, this chosen one —the very Son of God—even as he comes to bring justice, establish righteousness, and to weigh in the balance every grief, transgression, and wrong act that opposes the goodness of God… even in that, he comes in mercy. The sinless one steps into the waters of repentance, not because he has wrong from which to repent but because he's come to carry the weight of the wrong for us.

Simeon, in his prayer upon seeing infant Jesus, proclaims that Jesus - not just the actions of his life and work on the cross, but the person of Jesus - IS our salvation, in this world and the next. When salvation (Jesus) shows up, it's not comfortable, because God is at war with everything other than holiness. Christmas is a sure sign that God will keep coming into our messy reality to be our complete salvation.

Jesus comes to give us power and authority and freedom — to give us the right to become children of God. There is no power unless it is granted by God — we have no ability to force ourselves into God's family, no power to command him, or to demand from him. But Jesus comes, to give it freely. An invitation into a new family, and it just so happens that the Father of this family is the King of the Universe and the God of the Cosmos.

When God comes, he does so not in power, riches, and glory, but in humble obscurity, "despised and rejected.” Why? Mary knows. He does it out of mercy. He does it because he has seen us. Had he come as a great king, as a conquering warrior, with piles of gold and armies and beautiful garments, he would still be remote, distant, and unapproachable. But instead he comes all the way down into our darkness. "Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.”

We're not supposed to be manufacturing peace, or manufacturing rejoicing — they flow from our location: which is "in the Lord.” Are you lacking joy? Are you lacking peace? Run to Jesus, friends. Run to him and in him you will find joy, and you will find peace. You cannot make them for yourself, and they are to be found in no other place.

The life of John the Baptist is a picture of Advent, of what it means to long for and wait for Jesus. John the Baptist’s life reflects and represents the history of God’s people from Abraham to Jesus. John is the culmination of the Old Testament call to repentance in anticipation of Christ’s coming. His whole life is a pointer, a highway through the mountains and valleys of the corruption of Israel, to help people see Jesus. We are likewise called to live our lives waiting for, looking at, and pointing to Jesus.

“Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing — having nothing, yet possessing everything." This is the tension of the Christian life, and particularly the tension of Advent. Jesus has come. Jesus is coming. And here we wait, with the reality and glory revealed, but not yet fully realized.

The Kingship of Jesus Christ is the final, ultimate reality that levels anything else that might stand, and is the hidden reality that is invisibly at work in us and in the church. If we can see the regard and generous kindness of the King then we have the security of a comfort of being known and loved by the only one who truly understands us. Trusting in this unseen reality frees us from burdens that otherwise entangle us.

We are, like the disciples for those first 40 years, living in the time of the "birth pains”. We know that new life is emerging, we know that we have "died with Christ and been raised with him," and we're also walking around in these failing bodies, seeking to walk by faith in service that often looks a lot like "filling up in our bodies the sufferings of Christ”. We all live here longing for the King to return and bring our chaos back into order.

Our God came to bear witness to the pain and suffering of the world. He witnessed the sacrifice of the starving widow in 1 Kings, he witnessed the offering of the destitute widow in Mark, and he witnesses us in our brokenness. When we come to God with our little means, he knows the areas of our life which are impoverished and the depth of our sinfulness, and he will count it as more than the most perfect performance of the best religious leaders.

So this is the first commandment, the most important commandment, the aim and direction of all the cosmos — to respond in love to the God of love, to echo back in joy to the earth and the heavens the image of God as we were made to do.

Jesus always responds to those who call to him in faith. He never elevates his mission above the people who cry to him, because his mission is the people who cry to him. He's just told the disciples that he came to "to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many" — and here is one of them, this blind beggar who has the audacity and faith to believe that Jesus might have time for him, might have mercy for him, might be willing to help him in his need.

Jesus gives us an example of true kingship, but in our fallen humanity we, like the disciples, respond with three errors. We think we know what kingship means and we import our worldly ideas of kingship into our relationship with Jesus. We think we know what we want, though we are bad at recognizing the true desires of our own heart. We presume that we understand the implications of our petitions. Instead, Jesus is the definition of kingship and the author of our heart’s desires.

The young man says: "what do I have to I do to get life that actually feels alive?” He already has wealth and power—and he's a little bit desperate because he knows that it's not enough. At the very least, he knows that he will eventually die and then all that he has now will be lost to him. And Jesus, in love, invites him to enter life.

Jesus understands how hard marriage can be. In fact, Jesus, of all people, understands what it means to bind oneself in covenant to a broken person—to someone who has hurt you and will hurt you again. Jesus knows what it is to suffer in love for one who sometimes relates to you without appropriate regard or kindness. So it's not without regard that he calls us to goodness…

Jesus is the "stumbling stone and rock of offense." He's the boundary that defines in the kingdom, and out of the Kingdom, because his presence and life and way are the kingdom. Where he goes and what he does and how he lives — that's the only measure that matters. Jesus is the one who defines our belonging.

This father lays his broken heart down at the feet of Jesus and proclaims: here I am, in all my hurt and twisted despair. Here I am, with all my disappointments and doubts and questions. Here I am. Help me. Help me even though I don't have within me the strength to even fully believe that you can.

What Mark shows Jesus doing is a fulfillment of God's promise to overthrow the powers that stand against his people. We're told what will happen: The eyes of the blind will be opened, the ears of the deaf unstopped, the lame shall leap like a deer, the tongue of the mute sing for joy. Waters will break forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. So what Jesus does for this man is both a fulfillment of Isaiah's prophecy and also a picture for us of what salvation looks like. Desolation—desolation and judgment—turned to celebration and joy.

According to Jesus, our holiness problem is deep inside ourselves, not something that's primarily external. And our wisdom is not sufficient to devise a way of escape for ourselves. And, ultimately, our washings only go skin deep. The purifications we invent for ourselves do nothing to cleanse the impurity of our hearts. We need Jesus to wash us.

If Jesus is the true bread from heaven—if he’s actually the source of divine life and truth—then the only thing to do is to fall at his feet in worship. The only correct response is to surrender everything to him, to gather up every crumb of wisdom he offers, and to devote ourselves fully to consuming him and being consumed by him.

After the feeding of the five thousand, the people want to make Jesus their earthly king, but then Jesus gives them a shocking and offensive (to the Jewish disciples) teaching: eat my body and drink my blood. This teaching both echoes the depth of our distress under the curse, and offers a foretaste of eternal, abundant life, which is found only through Christ.God transforms the flesh and blood of Jesus into the bread and wine of the blessing that is promised to all who come to him. Come to the table, and remember how God reached us in our deepest desperation to offer us his greatest blessing.

The heart of God is to rescue and to restore what we have broken. It is the will of the Father that none of those given to Jesus would be lost, that people would look on the Son and believe, and that Jesus will raise his own up on the last day. We trust that our Father, who calls us into the secure hands of the Son, fills us with the power of His Spirit. We delight in his power, rest content in our weakness, and trust ourselves to him.

Jesus instructs the crowds to aim their hearts, and their desires, higher. Higher than comfort, higher than ease, higher than the satisfactions we can expect from a life of “good days” instead of bad ones. We are meant to hunger for “food that endures to eternal life”, food which Jesus claims he can give to us.

What Jesus does by walking on the water is a thing that only God could do — only the one who formed the world from its formless beginning, only the one with power to order the chaotic waters. And Jesus shows us that this majestic power and awesome might is held by one with compassion, who makes himself known, who responds when we call to him.

Mark has given us a picture here of two kings. One hears the truth, and locks it up; he feeds himself, but does not care for his people. The other pours himself out for those under his care, feeding the hungry around him while he suffers lack. And this is how the God of creation reveals himself to us — through Jesus, we see the care, love, and kindness of God for us lost sheep.

When Jesus calls us to go, it is never to a place he has not already gone. When he calls us to deny our desires and submit to God, it is never in a way that he himself did not obey. When he calls us to take up our crosses and follow him, we have the comfort and assurance that he knows exactly what he’s asking and that we can trust him.

Jesus wants to be known for who he is. And since who he is is the infinite God, we can never stop listening—to believe in him is not to accept some fixed set of propositions that you (or anyone else) has carefully tidied and sorted out. To believe in the Jesus who lives is to sit at his feet every day and truly seek to hear, learn, and find anew this loving, generous, majestic King who offers himself to us.

Part of the work of worship is to offer up sacrifices of thanksgiving, both in our weekly service with the liturgy, and throughout our daily life. In our times of trouble, God may seem to be quiet, but he is there asking us to reflect on our fears - are allowing our fears to toss us in the waves, or are we in fear and awe of God in his greatness and his promise of deliverance? All God’s people are a royal priesthood, therefore we are all called to lift up sacrifices of praise and thanksgiving, together, as we serve God and care for one another.