Psalm 102

Well, welcome again for people who joined us, and if you're visitors here tonight, especially

! welcome, we're very glad to have you with us. Psalm 102, if you want to keep that open,

that might be useful, page 501. When Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II says in her Christmas

message, this year's been a bit bumpy, that's a bit of a royal understatement there, isn't

it? What she's really saying is that we've had a rough year, it feels. Every year brings

with it challenges, that's the nature of living in a fallen world, but we're not surprised

by that. Fortunately, it's also full of joys, isn't it? It's not all doom and gloom. Hopes

were realised, children born, crises averted, people came to faith. Pregnancy centres were

registered. But if you speak to people, it seems like many people are weary, worn down

by the increasing grind, the constant churn, by the incessant progress, quote-unquote, hurtling

forward at an unstoppable pace, it seems. The uncertainty of not knowing where we're heading

as a country, as a world, what's going to happen to the big questions of climate change

and the crisis, climate emergency, or how's Brexit going to pan out. Maybe for you it's

not those things. Maybe it's just that you're overwhelmed by the barrage of information that

comes at us these days, or the communication and obfuscation that comes at us all the time.

We've just been through an election campaign, there's been a lot of that. A think tank in the

US called it the fire hose of falsehood. They say it's an unremitting, high-intensity stream

of lies, partial truths and complete fictions spewed forth with tireless aggression to obfuscate

the truth and overwhelm and confuse anyone trying to pay attention. That can wear you out.

Perhaps it's just the fact that while everything seems to change, at some level nothing seems

to change. And life grinds on day after day. I think perhaps, you know, it's not the change

itself that is the big thing that wears us down. It's the uncertainty that comes with it.

This isn't a Brexit sermon, I promise you, it's just that that's kind of been in the news.

But I don't know if you noticed how all of the businesses were saying eventually, you know,

we don't care what's going to happen, just tell us what's going to happen so we can make

a plan. Don't care if we stay or leave, just tell us. We need certainty. We're paralyzed

by the uncertainty. We can't make decisions. We can't plan. We can't take control of our

destinies. Maybe paraphrase a bit there at the end, but, you know, that's really what

they're after. That's what we're after, I'd argue. We want to, we need to, at some level,

be in control of our lives. That's what so much of our lives are spent trying to get, control,

because we're hardwired for having certainty, really. And that's where it goes all wrong, isn't it?

One translation of Romans 8, 21 has, and the hope is that in the end the whole of created

life will be rescued from the tyranny of change and decay. Everything changes. That's the nature

of living in space and time. And there was a time when that was all going to be good. And

we had certainty of a good world and a good creation living with God. And then it all went

wrong when we tried to make our own decisions and take matters into our own hands and gain

control. And now we're not the masters of change anymore. And we feel it, don't we?

The change can be a good thing. We know change isn't all bad. Adam and Eve were meant to change

the world as they went about subduing and cultivating it. That was always part of the plan.

And there's a truth even just on a very simple level in that old adage, isn't it, that you

can't cross the same river twice. We inevitably change the world whatever we do. We want to

feel like we've made a difference in our work. And that's so often what people struggle with

in their own work, that they feel like, if I didn't do this job, then it wouldn't have

mattered at all. We want to see good change in what we do. And often in a world full of

sorrow and pain and suffering, we should strive to see more change than the world. It's not

all bad. But I think what we're talking about here is not that kind of change, is it? It's

the kind of change that's outside of our control. The change is forced upon us. Sometimes just

by the biological fact of getting older. There's a time when you want to be older. And because

you're going to go to secondary school, and you're going to uni, and all the life, the world's your oyster.

And then there's a time when you don't want to grow older anymore. Or it's a world that changes

morally and ethically beyond what we recognize. Or a world that sometimes seems to grow more hostile

day by day towards Christians. One of the greatest sources of distress for Christians today, isn't it,

is the increasing hostility towards anything that smells of Christian values in the public sphere?

The world has changed in that way. And in the new year, there's probably going to be another push

to liberalize abortion even further, just like it's been in Northern Ireland. Change might be good,

but change isn't always good. And our psalmist here understands the feeling of change, uncertainty,

and how wearying that is, isn't he? He's not in a good way, is he? Physically and emotionally,

he's stretched, it feels like, to the limits of human ability to withstand.

Verse 3, he feels like his days pass away like smoke and his bones burn like a furnace. He's physically

not well. And he's so occupied with that mental and physical distress he can't even eat. Verse 4,

he's isolated and he feels cut off from the world, like there's no one who understands,

like he's a desert owl in the wilderness. He can't sleep. And he feels, to be frank, abandoned by God.

I think when we listen to that, it's a case of tick all that apply. For some of us, it might be more of

those things than we even realize. The person sitting in the row next to you might have more things to tick off

there than you realize. But all of us can associate with some of those feelings, at least some of the time.

He's got wave after wave of uncertainty and change coming over him. It's a tsunami of uncertainty, really.

You know, if we think about it, when there's something physically wrong with us, isn't it? You know,

when we go to the doctor and people struggle to find a diagnosis of what is wrong, even when it's a

serious diagnosis, that certainty of knowing what it is that is wrong is a relief. It's the uncertainty

that's often even worse than knowing what is wrong with us. And when we know something can be done about

it, we can make plans. But it's the uncertainty that gets to us. He has many things that are outside

of his control, buffeting him. And he is worn down to the point of not wanting to live anymore.

And we don't know what all those individual troubles are for the psalmist.

And I think in a sense that's not what's important. We know some of those feelings.

And we know where he looks to for certainty, for stability, for help. This morning Paul spoke about

how no matter what happens in this new year, we know it is in God's sovereign and providential control.

And we can trust in that. The question is why? Why can we trust in God's sovereign control over

things? Why can we trust in God even though we know things are going to change, we don't know what's

coming. Why can we trust in God's sovereign control over things? Why can we trust in God when we can't trust in

our own decisions, our own resolutions and our own promises?

That's the question that the psalmist answers. People look in various different places and

look to answer that question in different ways to deal with the state of uncertainty that we're always in.

You're starting with the only slightly facetious. You know, that seminal Christmas movie,

Love Actually, Hugh Grant's prime minister character does a monologue at the beginning. And he says,

whenever I start to get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow airport.

For him, the answer is to rely on love, to rely on other people's love. That is where we find certainty and stability in a world that often seems like it's falling apart.

The problem with that is he's also editing out the toddlers who are coming off a 12-hour flight,

and the people with their lost luggage, and the people trying to find Hugh the birth.

And love can be fickle.

Another way is we might try and find certainty and control in making plans for the next year.

You might be one of those super organized people who've sat down, taken stock of the last year,

written up priorities for next year, and allocated each of those different areas of your life, different levels of focus and priority,

and then subdivided that into different categories, and then your three top priorities, and allocated time in your week for each of those.

Or you might only be doing that next year.

By the way, if you plan on stopping procrastinating, then I'll join you next week.

But, you know, we try and get control and certainty by making plans.

You know, we look to political solutions for the big problems.

And to be honest, I think that's a big part of what the problem was with this last year,

is people look to politics to solve things that it can't,

and look to people to solve issues that people will have imperfect solutions to always.

But it is difficult.

Just loving relationships and making plans and strategizing and being responsible,

they're not bad things in themselves, are they?

But we've got to realize they're never going to give us the certainty we're after.

We're always going to miss the point.

And, upon reflection, putting us, changeable creatures,

who live in space and enduring time, as someone says,

at the center of finding stability,

is probably not the best idea after all.

So the question is, where does the psalmist go,

when there seems to be no certainty and no hope,

when he's at his wit's end?

And what's quite striking is he doesn't go to any of those standard bolt holes

in our arsenal against change and uncertainty, does he?

And what's really interesting is when you read on in this psalm,

that uncertainty, that change from the situation that Israel had before,

the state that he longs for when God dwelled with Israel in the temple

and when Zion wasn't destroyed before the exile,

is really at the heart of his distress.

He looks beyond himself in a way that is probably a good example for us.

Whatever he's feeling personally,

whatever other emotional and physical distress and worry and uncertainty

he's facing in his own life,

his concern about God's honor is actually where most of his focus is at.

If 2019 was a bumpy year,

as our Sovereign Lady rightly said,

then heads up,

don't be surprised if 2020 has more speed bumps,

aggressive speed bumps,

than a newly resurfaced West Ealing suburban street.

Unfortunately, it's a good thing that people turn to God

when there's uncertainty and change, isn't it?

After 9-11 and after the financial crash,

churches in New York and London were full.

They overflowed.

The sad thing that comes with that is,

unfortunately for many people,

the solution to a changing attitude

towards the church, towards God,

towards Christian values,

and even indeed Christians,

is that we must become more relevant.

We must become more relevant,

you know, to reach people,

whatever that means.

That means so many different things for different people.

For some people, that means the gospel must change

and we must bring a new gospel for a new era.

If the world is changing,

then God must change with us.

We need a new God, a different God,

a God who responds to our needs and our desires.

I was really struck by a piece I read the last couple of days

in The Guardian.

The Guardian does have good things as well,

where the writer talks about how churches

should follow the models of many cathedrals.

That seems to be a me-centered, one-stop shop,

he says, of therapy and community.

That's what people need.

The answer to a longing for congregation,

the cathedral's answer to a longing for congregation

and communal space.

The key is a quality unfashionable to social analysis.

The offer of solitude with beauty.

You need not be of faith to sit quietly

and contemplate the loveliness of a cathedral.

As the dean once hinted to me in a whisper,

here we don't bang on about God.

The sociologist Grace Davey described a cathedral

as a vicarious religion.

Somewhere an individual can be private,

undisturbed and uplifted by architecture and music.

They are psychotherapy in glass and stone.

Now, unfortunately,

if we think that creating a calm space for ourselves

is going to solve our need for certainty and stability

in an inherently uncertain and changing world,

then that writer's got another thing coming.

So we can't block out the uncertainty and the change

and the hostility in the world forever.

And the psalmist doesn't go there either.

He finds his hope, doesn't he,

in an entirely different way.

I don't know if you saw that,

but for him it's the fact that God doesn't change

that gives all the hope.

In contrast to that cathedral dean

who says we don't bang on about God,

for the psalmist, it's all about God.

And it's all about a God who doesn't change.

And that's a very counter-cultural thing for us to do,

to find our trust in a God who doesn't change.

But it was in those days, too, to be honest,

when all the cultures around Israel had gods

that you could change.

When you were tired of one, you got a new one.

When one didn't seem to work anymore,

you got another nation's gods

because they seemed to be working.

You could swap them around like football cards.

And he gets things back in perspective

when he realizes that

while God's able to take him out of this life,

God's years endure throughout all the generations.

God, he says,

will outlast the foundations of the earth.

He will outlast the heavens.

I don't know if you knew this,

but Mount Etna,

the volcano outside Sicily,

is actually sliding into the ocean

at a rate of about 14 millimeters a year.

Now, don't be entirely worried just yet.

It's going to take about 100,000 years at that pace

for it to slide into the Mediterranean Sea.

And I think it might cause a tsunami.

Mount Etna,

that's caused destruction

over centuries,

is sliding into the ocean.

I don't know.

I hope this doesn't come as news to you,

but God is going to outlast Mount Etna.

There's a qualitative difference

between us and God, isn't there?

And the rest of creation and God.

We change.

The world we live in changes.

And since the fall,

much of that change isn't good.

But it isn't so with God.

The fact that God doesn't change

is good news.

Because it means this God who is love,

this God who has promised

mercy and forgiveness

to those who return to him,

that this Lord God

who made a covenant with his people

to be their God

and for them to be his people,

who promised a saviour for his people,

and who promised that

no one that he gave to his son

will fall away,

it means that God will not

and cannot break those promises.

We can't trust in our own resolutions.

I don't know if you're

going to the gym next week.

We'll see how that goes

by the end of January.

We get promises by politicians.

We'll see how much we can rely on that.

But we need a God

that we can trust in

who doesn't change.

And we need that

more than just

for our day-to-day needs

for the next year.

Malachi talks of a day

when God will deal

decisively

with the brokenness

and the change

in this world,

doesn't he?

Malachi writes

a prophecy from God.

He says,

I will draw near to you

for judgment.

There will be a swift witness

against the sorcerers,

against the adulterers,

against those who swear falsely,

against those who oppress

the hired worker

and his wages,

the widow and the fatherless,

against those

who thrust aside

the sojourner

and do not fear me,

says the Lord of hosts.

For I, the Lord,

do not change.

Therefore,

you,

O children of Jacob,

are not consumed.

Now that,

that last bit

seems to come out

of the blue a bit,

doesn't it?

I mean,

we know God

is not going to let

injustice by

without action,

no matter how

the world looks.

And that's a great

source of comfort

as the world seems

uncertain and unjust

in so many ways.

You know,

we know that God

is going to deal with it

because he does not change.

He's the same just

and righteous God

for always.

But he says,

because he doesn't

change,

we won't be

consumed.

Because he doesn't

change,

he won't forget

his promise of mercy

to us.

Yeah,

and the glory

of the Christian

doctrine

of God

is that

it is the

unchangeable one

who is

in control

of all the change

in the universe.

He is

who he is,

isn't he?

Not

who he might

become with us.

Yeah,

to wrongly

paraphrase

Hebrews 6 a bit,

it's not

that he swore

by himself

so that,

so let us

hold relatively

tightly

to the hope

we profess

because he

who promised

probably won't

let us down.

That

wouldn't be

any hope

at all.

No.

A changing,

uncertain world

needs a God

who does not

change.

The amazing

thing is,

God doesn't

need us.

He's perfect

and he's always

been.

So,

any change

in God

would be a

change for the

worse.

God

isn't a

creature

like us.

He isn't

an inanimate

object that

doesn't

change.

When we say

God doesn't

change,

it's not

like we

think of a

table or a

chair or

something that

stays the

same day

after day,

dead.

No,

he's life

itself,

isn't he?

He's utterly

perfect,

utterly alive.

And he

is his

mercy and

his love

and his

forgiveness

and his

justice and

his

trustworthiness.

He is all

of those

things,

always,

totally.

He's more

alive than

we can think

of being

alive.

Even when

we talk about

God,

even at some

level,

it's even

like our

language starts

to strain,

our language

stops being

able to

talk about

how God

really is,

more than

we can

imagine.

He is,

for the

lack of a

better term,

the most

mostest.

And if he

had to

change,

he wouldn't

be.

And here

at Christmas

time,

we remember

the gift of

Jesus Christ,

it's good to

remember James

1 as well,

where he says

every good

gift and

every perfect

gift is from

above,

coming down

from the

Father of

lights,

with whom

there is no

variation or

shadow due

to change.

this very

source of

stability that

the psalmist

turns to,

this perfect

gift from

God,

Jesus Christ,

is what the

writer of

Hebrews talks

about when he

talks about the

Son of God,

when he talks

about why the

Son of God is

more perfect than

angels.

He quotes these

verses from

Psalm 102.

At the end

there,

he says,

in Hebrews

1,

he says,

And you,

the Lord,

laid the

foundation of

the earth in

the beginning,

and the heavens

are the work

for your hands.

They will

perish,

but you

remain,

they will

all wear

out like

a garment.

Like a robe,

you will roll

them up.

Like a garment,

they will be

changed,

but you are

the same,

and your

years will

have no

end.

That is the

Son of God

who was born

as a person,

as a human

being,

God and

man at

Christmas.

It is

right at

Christmas time

that we talk

about how

God became

man.

How the

Son of God,

the second

person of

the Trinity,

took a human

nature as

well to

him.

A changeable,

changing human

nature.

He grew up

through being

a toddler,

and being a

child,

and becoming

a human

being.

He had

human emotions

as well.

But maybe

we will do

well to

remember that

it is the

unchanging

God who

did that.

And that

he came

into this

world of

uncertainty,

this world

of tyranny,

of change

and decay,

so that he

will be that

unchanging

hope that

we need.

he's still

the internal

unchangeable

God who

will accomplish

his plans to

save a people

for himself

from all

nations.

What's really

fascinating is

when the

psalmist looks

beyond his

own knees,

when he

looks to

who God

is,

he sees

how there's

a point

where all

nations will

come to

Jerusalem.

There's a

point that

is beyond

what he's

known,

a change

from before,

but a good

change.

He's looking

with certainty

to a time

when all

the nations

will come

to Jerusalem,

when a new

thing will

happen,

when all

the people

and kingdoms

coming to

Jerusalem

will be

there to

worship God.

And that

change

started to

happen when

the unchanging

God came

into this

world to

become one

of us.

A changing

uncertain

world doesn't

need more

change.

It needs,

it doesn't

need a more

relevant church

which doesn't

bang on about

God.

The nations

will come to

Christ, the

rock of our

salvation, because

he is the

unchangeable,

eternal God.

A changing

uncertain

world needs a

God who

doesn't change,

the God

we can

depend on,

that same

God who

came to

rescue us.

Your plans

for next

year, for

your life,

might not

last the

next week,

or month,

or year,

but those

things aren't

the things that

are going to

give you

certainty.

It's not

going to come

from politics,

it's not

going to come

from Twitter,

from your

school results.

Do work

hard at school

though, or

going through

the motions

at church.

Those things

all change.

The question

for you and

me is, are

we going to

rely on changing

things this

coming year, or

are we going to

rely on the

unchanging God?

Amen.