What do you fear? When we’re running out of hope, God is at work.

We are continuing in our series this

advent entitled,"What do you fear?" What

do you fear?

And so hear the word of the Lord [sighs]

this morning from Matthew 11:es 1- 11.

After Jesus had finished instructing his

12 disciples, he went on from there to

teach and preach in the towns of

Galilee. When John the Baptist, who was

in prison, heard about the deeds of the

Messiah, he sent his disciples to ask

Jesus, "Are you the one who is to come,

or should we expect someone else?"

And Jesus replied, "Go back and report

to John what you hear and see. The blind

receive sight. The lame walk. Those who

have leprosy are cleansed. The deaf

hear. The dead are raised. And the good

news is preached to the poor. Blessed is

anyone who does not stumble on account

of me. And as John's disciples were

leaving, Jesus began to speak to the

crowd about John. What did you go out

into the wilderness to see? A ray a reed

swayed by the wind? If not, what did you

go out to see? A man dressed in fine

clothes? No. Those who wear fine clothes

are in king's palaces. Then what did you

go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell

you, and more than a prophet. This is

the one about whom it is written, I will

send my messenger ahead of you, who will

prepare your way before you. Truly, I

tell you, among those born of women,

there has not risen anyone greater than

John the Baptist. Yet anyone who is

least in the kingdom of heaven is even

greater than he.

This is the word of the Lord. Thanks be

to God.

Well, if you have been in churches over

Advent, you know that we typically hear

stories about John the Baptist during

this season, Jesus's cousin. But

normally, right, it's the story about

John's elderly and infertile parents,

Zechariah and Elizabeth,

who miraculously conceive a son. And

they find out about that good news while

Zechariah is serving in the temple. It

scares him half to death. We talked a

little bit about that last week.

We normally read the passage about

John's birth and how Zachariah like

bursts into song, what we call the

benedictus.

Um, and it's a song that declares how

special this child is going to be, what

he's going to do, that John's going to

be a prophet of the Lord sent ahead of

Jesus to prepare the way for the coming

of the Messiah.

But those are not the texts I read this

morning, right? I skipped over all of

those traditional Advent stories and I

jumped ahead to the time right before

John's going to die actually

when we encounter John the Baptist in

our text that we read from Matthew 11.

He's no longer this like young brazen

confident prophet crying out in the

wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord.

He's not gathering in like tons of

crowds to the Jordan River to baptize

people.

No, he's a prisoner in Rome.

He's been cut off from the very movement

he helped to create.

He's been silenced by Herod for

preaching sermons and for criticizing

empire.

And nothing is turning out how he

expected it would. Nothing.

And so here in Matthew 11, we find John

wrestling with some pretty difficult

questions.

Questions that bother him so deeply that

he sends his friends, his disciples. He

says, "Go and find Jesus and ask him,

are you the one who is to come? Or are

we supposed to wait for somebody else?

Are we waiting for another?

But friends, I need you to understand

that this isn't just like a curiosity

for John. This is not just a simple

question.

This is really like a cry of his heart

from the edges of despair.

This prophet who had baptized Jesus, who

had declared to him in great faith, the

lamb of God, the Messiah coming to save

and redeem the whole world.

He's now suddenly like unsure.

He's filled with doubt.

He's not sure what he believes anymore.

He's sitting in a cell with his

execution in view, deep in fear,

suffering,

and doubting everything that he was once

so sure of. Everything he used to be so

confident about.

And he's wondering like, did I get it

all wrong?

Did anything that I've spent my life's

best work doing, did any of it matter?

Is is God actually at work in all of

this

or did I miss it?

But friends, this kind of doubting, it's

not born of like cynicism.

No,

this is like that trembling that comes

upon us when our deep conviction like

butts up against our seasons of

suffering.

It's what happens to us

when the demand for faith has been

really high and then the payoff

seems to have disappeared overnight.

It's what hope sounds like when it's

running very, very thin.

But I want you to notice, how does Jesus

respond to John's questions? When those

disciples show up and say, "Hey, we got

a quick question for your cousin who's

in jail."

He doesn't lecture John.

He doesn't rebuke John.

He doesn't say, "Uh, can you go back to

John and tell him that I can't believe

he's doubting how disappointing.

I can't believe he's questioning

everything."

No.

In fact, Jesus answers by pointing out

just what has been happening all around.

He says, "Go and tell John what you see

and what you hear. Blind people receive

their sight. The lame walk. Lepers are

cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are

raised, and the poor have good news

brought to them.

Now, I think in hindsight for us, that

sounds great.

But we need to remember that Jesus

points here not to some like grand

promise of societal victory,

but to a bunch of smaller signs of

transformation in the life of the folks

who need it the most

in the life of the marginalized.

Jesus doesn't offer a word of certainty,

but actually he invites John to look

again,

to see again,

to pay attention to what is happening

and to recognize that God is indeed at

work. Jesus asks John to remember that

original call to prepare the way. He

echoes Isaiah's vision. See, I'm doing a

new thing now. It springs up. Can't you

see it?

I'm making a way in the wilderness,

streams in the wasteland.

But friends, the truth is for John, for

for Jesus, for these disciples, Rome is

still in power.

Herod is still on the throne. And

spoiler alert, John's not going to make

it out of prison this time.

And yet Jesus insists, "Look around."

Because God's dream is still unfolding.

Can't you see it?

Listen again. Can't you hear it?

And I think what's so powerful in this

moment is not even that like Jesus is

doing all these incredible miracles and

and that is impressive. It's amazing.

but that he's framing his ministry

to the poor and to the marginalized

as the shest sign as evidence of God's

kingdom come into the world. [laughter]

And that's really amazing

because God's kingdom is not going to be

marked by coercion and fear or political

and religious power. It's going to be

marked by healing and liberation.

Good news for the folks who are most

desperate for it.

Jesus does not show up as a powerful

revolutionbringing Messiah that all the

folks were desperately hoping for. John

the Baptist included.

John included. No, Jesus just refuses to

be this like political leader, this

religious or military leader. He will

not be a new Caesar.

He absolutely refuses. He's not

interested in in political politics and

putting Israel back on the throne.

That's not what this is about. It's way

bigger than that.

No. Jesus, the Messiah of God, shows up

to bring about God's transformation to a

broken world. A broken world.

And so when you start to see that,

it makes perfect sense that the way to

transform a broken world is to start

transforming the lives of broken people,

to heal broken people, to love broken

people, to look in the eyeballs of

broken people.

And so for the folks that have the eyes

to see that mission,

they recognize the Messiah has come.

I I think our doubt and our fear and our

questions show up when we begin to

realize that maybe we got something

wrong along the way. Maybe we got

confused somewhere along the way.

We sometimes assume that God's going to

show up and sound like and do the things

that we expect God will do. God will act

in the ways we expect.

But then God doesn't.

We find ourselves like John I think

sitting in a jail cell afraid

and questioning like how could it have

all taken such a different turn than we

thought it would.

Maybe you've been there.

Maybe you're there right now.

I mean after doing everything you

thought you were called to do.

Maybe feeling like you did everything

you were supposed to do. You did it all

right.

And then feeling like nothing worked out

like you expected it would.

And and you find yourself like John

asking like, "What was the point of all

of that?

God, are you actually at work? Did

anything I spent my time and energy

doing? Did any of it matter?"

I think many of us find ourselves asking

those questions when life gets really

difficult. when we find ourselves

afraid.

But here's the thing, friends. Those are

good questions. That's a great starting

place, but there are better questions to

ask.

Is my hope in God dependent

on certain outcomes?

These are the these are the questions

under the questions, right?

Am I going to stay faithful even when I

don't see changes as quickly as I want

to?

Do I trust that Jesus is at work even

when he acts in ways I didn't expect?

Can't begin to understand.

I mean, it's is our hope contingent on

God showing up in the ways we think God

should,

or does our hope persist?

Even still,

biblical scholar Bo Young Lee puts it

this way. Hope in the gospel is not

grounded in outcomes or visible success.

Hope is rooted in perception,

in trusting God is still at work even

when systems remain unchanged, even when

profits die behind bars.

And so for anyone who has dared to hope

for a better world or a different

outcome, I know you know this feeling. I

know this feeling.

The fear that nothing or not enough has

changed.

The grief that our lives or our work

might not have mattered as much as we

thought it would. The silence from

people or from institutions that we

really wanted to move faster or change

more quickly than they have.

The confusion that God didn't seem to

show up how or when we expected.

And this is precisely where we find

John.

And still Jesus affirms him. Jesus

affirms John. Not in spite of his

questions, but right in the middle of

the thick of them.

It almost sounds

as his disciples are walking away and

Jesus starts talking about John, it

almost sounds

like he's writing John's eulogy.

As he praises John's life and ministry,

he says, "Among those born of women, no

one has arisen greater than John the

Baptist,

it's clear that Jesus does not see

John's like crumbling hope or his

fearful doubt as failure.

In fact, he sees it as faithfulness."

Faithfulness.

And so, friends, hear me this morning.

hope that trembles and quakes.

It is still hope.

Even in his doubt, John is still a

prophet. Even in his fear, John is still

beloved. Even in his questions, John is

still faithful.

Hope that trembles and quakes, it's

still hope.

It's still hope

and it invites us to bring our shaking

and our quaking selves

before God this advent. If that is where

you find yourselves

with running too thin hope,

bring it to Jesus.

Ask your own hard questions.

Listen again. look again and see where

God might be at work in this broken

world.

I think that's an important invitation

for us. If you find yourself running

thin on hope today,

it's probably the perfect time to ask,

"What do you see?

What do you hear?

How is Jesus at work in the brokenness

in our world, in our own city, maybe in

your own family?

Because it might look different than you

expected.

But can you see it?

Will you see it?

You know, biblical scholars have pointed

out that in Jesus's litany of all the

good things happening, you know, where

he tells the John's disciples, go back

and tell John what you see and what you

hear. The blind receive their sight, the

lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, all

that. that Jesus actually does not

include

the release of the captives

in that list like he almost always did

when he rattled off that litany of what

the kingdom of God looked like.

Not that time. He doesn't talk about

freeing the prisoner. And so scholars

have wondered, was this Jesus's like

clever, intentional way of sending a

message back to his cousin and saying,

"You're not going to get out this time.

We're at the end now."

Now, we'll never know for sure, of

course, but I have to imagine what it

might have been like for John to get

that message back from his friends and

to ask like, wait, did he say anything

about the captives?

Was there anything in there about

freeing the prisoners?

No.

Okay.

That's one way to learn you're at the

end. It's probably not all that

different actually from finding out you

have a terminal illness and you only

have so long.

I was thinking about that this week and

I couldn't help but wonder, you know, in

my own life, how I might deal with my

own disappointment, my own grief, if I

had to face down the reality, the fear

that I would die before I got to see any

of God's work completed in the ways I

dream and hope I might.

Could I still hold on to my faith?

I mean, if I knew I'd never get to see

the outcomes I'm hoping and praying and

working toward, never see the results of

anything I do to bring about God's

kingdom, would I still keep doing it?

It brought to mind an ancient proverb.

Maybe you know it. It tells us that

we're to plant trees under whose shade

you do not expect to sit.

It's a good one.

this idea of devoting ourselves to the

good work of God's kingdom, no matter if

we're going to live long enough to see

the results

as people who are called to be faithful

and to hold on to hope, however

trembling it might be, to keep planting

trees

simply because God has called us to and

we choose to stay faithful.

As we prepare to come to the table of

the Lord Jesus this morning, which I

will remind us is the shest sign of

God's willingness to plant the ultimate

tree,

no matter the consequences, no matter if

it resulted in death.

I want to read you this poem by a really

beautiful theologian

Ruben Alves.

I projected it for you. What is hope?

It is the pre-sentiment that imagination

is more real and reality less real than

it looks.

It is the hunch

that the overwhelming brutality of facts

that oppress and repress is not the last

word.

It is the suspicion that reality is more

complex than realism wants us to

believe.

That the frontiers of the possible are

not determined by the limits of the

actual. And that in a miraculous and

unexpected way, life is preparing

creative events which will open the way

to freedom and resurrection.

The two suffering and hope live from

each other.

Suffering without hope produces

resentment and despair. But hope without

suffering creates illusions, naive and

drunkenness.

Let us plant dates even though those who

plant them will never eat them.

We must live by the love of what we will

never see. This is the secret

discipline.

It's a refusal to let the creative act

be dissolved in immediate sense

experience

and a stubborn commitment to the future

of our grandchildren.

Such disciplined love is what has given

prophets and revolutionaries and saints

the courage to die for the future they

envisaged.

They make their own bodies the seed of

their highest hope.