Century Christian Church
(Disciples of Christ)

1301 Tamarack Road, Owensboro, KY 42301, (270) 684-0286, Pastor:  Rev. Jim Westmoreland

Waiting Until Hope Comes
Psalm 130
by JimWestmoreland

According to Dante, written over the gates of hell are these words: Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate: abandon hope, you who enter. Newspapers and evening news show us the gates of hell every night -- and we are tempted to abandon hope every time we enter there:

We had hoped ... that he was the one.

We had hoped ... that the tests would prove negative.

We had hoped ... that he would stop drinking.

We had hoped ... that in this church there wouldn't be any hypocrites.

We had hoped ... that

Hope is such an important part of living. Dante was right to picture Hell as a place for tormented souls who have no hope. Whether we are young or leaving our youth behind, life is quick to teach us about disappointment, about pretense and shallowness, about dealing with pain and about the importance of hope.

The 130^th Psalm is a confession of sin, a cry for forgiveness, a longing hope that God, though his answer seems slow, will come in love and grace. Hope is not to be demanded, as if being loud and adamant will give it to us. Hope cannot be bought or laid aside and kept for some day when we might need it.

Hope comes to us as a gift from God. It comes as we humble ourselves in confession of our faults and shortcomings. Pride comes from the things we can hold in our hands and can accomplish with our minds and will. Hope comes when it seems that we can't hold on to anything.

The 130^th Psalm is described as one of the great penitential prayers of the Bible. Out of deep distress the psalmist cries out to the Lord. He pleads to be heard. He appeals to God's mercy, saying that if God dealt justly with all of us by marking all of our iniquities, who could stand? His words are echoed hundreds of years later by Paul who wrote in Romans that "all have sinned and fallen short of God's glory."

He affirms that there is forgiveness with the Lord, saying, "I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I hope." His confidence in the Lord is greater than those who watch for the next morning. He is saying, "My hope in God's love and forgiveness is greater than those who believe that the sun will come up in the morning."

Our hope is that God will not abandon us, that He will stand with us, that He will restore and redeem us. To redeem is not just to be forgiven of sin, it is to be rescued, restored, given a heart that is not broken, not cynical, and not condemning and angry. The grace that comes to us as "gift" works in our hearts and minds to change our attitudes and the way we see things.

Years ago, an anonymous Confederate soldier penned these words as he lay wounded on the battlefield:

"I asked God for strength, that I might achieve: I was made weak that I might obey.

I asked for health that I might do greater things: I was given infirmity that I might do better things.

I asked for riches that I might be happy: I was given poverty that I might be wise.

I asked for power that I might have the praise of men: I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God.

I received nothing that I asked for, but all I had hoped for. My prayer was answered, and I am most richly blessed.⁽¹⁾

Where in the world, then, does one look for hope? Not for optimism, mind you, but for hope. Peter Gomes, professor of Christian Morals at Harvard University, suggests to us that, on the basis of the biblical witness, one looks for hope first at the places of suffering and of stress.⁽²⁾ And so, throughout history we can look for those who are being persecuted, who struggle with famine and natural disasters, for those who know that "tomorrow is not promised" to find answers to life and to learn about hope.

At a British university there was a piano professor that was simply and affectionately known as "Herman." One night at a university concert, a distinguished pianist suddenly became ill while performing an extremely difficult piece. No sooner had the artist retired from the stage when Herman rose from his seat in the audience, walked on stage, sat down at the piano and with great mastery completed the performance.

Later that evening, at a party, one of the students asked Herman how he was able to perform such a demanding piece so beautifully without notice and with no rehearsal. He replied, "In 1939, when I was a budding young concert pianist, I was arrested and placed in a Nazi concentration camp. Putting it mildly, the future looked bleak. But I knew that in order to keep the flicker of hope alive that I might someday play again, I needed to practice every day. I began by fingering a piece from my repertoire on my bare, board bed late one night. The next night, I added a second piece and soon I was running through my entire repertoire. I did this every night for five years. It so happens that the piece I played tonight at the concert hall was part of that repertoire. That constant practice is what kept my hope alive. Everyday, I renewed my hope that I would one day be able to play my music again on a real piano, and in freedom."⁽³⁾

What kind of attitudes are we practicing? What healthy repetitions are we practicing that will be called upon at crucial moments of our lives in the future? How is our faith growing day by day, or is it sitting on a shelf shriveling and atrophying from lack of use? Sometimes, when life seems hardest, are we able to wait until hope comes?

Regardless of how hard or how long we wait, God cares for us and does not forget us. Even when we struggle the hardest and seemingly make our biggest mistakes, he cares for us and weeps with us.

One December afternoon many years ago, a group of parents stood in the lobby of a nursery school waiting to pick up their children after the last pre-Christmas session. As the youngsters ran from their lockers, each one carried in his or her hands the surprise, the brightly wrapped package on which the class had been working for weeks.

One small boy, trying to run, put on his coat, and wave to his parents all at the same time, slipped and fell. The surprise flew from his grasp and landed on the tile floor with an obvious ceramic crash.

The child's first reaction was one of stunned silence. But then he began to cry inconsolably. His father, trying to minimize the incident and comfort the boy, patted his head and whispered, "Now that's all right. It really doesn't matter, son. It doesn't matter at all."

But the child's mother, somewhat wiser in such situations, dropped to her knees on the floor, swept the boy into her arms and said, "Oh, but it does matter. It matters a great deal. And she wept with her son."

The redeeming God, in whom we hope, is not the parent who dismisses our lives with a pat on the head and gushes assurances that they do not really matter. Rather, the redeeming God who gives us hope is the One who falls to the earth beside us, picks up our torn and bleeding spirits, and says, "Oh, but it does matter. It matters eternally."⁽⁴⁾

While we are here, let us be learners. Let us learn from one another. Remember, Peter Gomes advice? We can learn most about hope from those who struggle and suffer. By the grace of God let us teach one another, even as we struggle.

John Ortberg tells this story, Some years ago, when I was in Ethiopia, I learned about ... a 99-year-old woman who lived about two hours outside Addis Ababa, the capital city. This woman had become a follower of Christ in middle age, and she was both blind and illiterate. She lived in a little hut, where she kept two Bibles on her table - one in Amharic (the official language of Ethiopia), one in English. Whenever someone came to visit her, she would ask the person to read. Over time, her favorite passages became so familiar that she could recite them from memory, and if her visitors couldn't read, she would recite as a kind of gift to them.

People would come from far away just to visit her. Why would they make the journey for an elderly, illiterate, blind widow? Because somehow in her presence, through her voice, the words "The Lord is my shepherd" ceased to be just words. Those thoughts had washed over her mind so deeply, so often, that there was simply no way that anxiety-producing thoughts could survive. In purity of heart, she willed one thing. People flocked to her because it was impossible to hear her say those words without being filled with the hope that perhaps one day they would be as real to them as they were to her.⁽⁵⁾ This morning, let us not grow weary and give up while we wait for hope to come to strengthen us. Amen.

Century Christian Church, August 13, 2006 - Sermon by Jim Westmoreland
www.centurychristian.org
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1. Retrieved from http://www.sermonsplus.co.uk/Illustrations.htm on 8-12-06.

2. Peter Gomes, The Good Book: Reading the Bible With Mind and Heart (New York: Avon Books, 1996), 229-230.

3. Retrieved from http://www.sermonsplus.co.uk/Illustrations.htm on 8-12-06.

4. William Muehl, Why Preach? Why Listen (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986), 92.