It is prophetic work to establish hope. Prophets have an array of tools for doing this. A surprising technique is literature, specifically apocalyptic literature, where fantastic images, cosmic disturbances, numeric schemes, and epic battles give us accounts (today we might call them ‘graphic novels’) of what is sure to take place.
Interpreters have gone to these apocalyptic sections and treated them as allegory: this is that, and so on. But apocalyptic lit is a way of telling a specific story, namely: the world has set up a most impressive way of life which oppresses or woos us—but, the world, for all its sounds and furies, will not prevail, since God—the true God—is on the move and about to emerge triumphant. To boil it down, apocalyptic insists that there is something strong in which the beleaguered may hope, and something better with which the distracted can be satisfied. In using apocalyptic (as well as other forms), the prophets say: look here.
Hope, they tell us, is as real as a doorknob, but more lively. The only problem is that we cannot see this hope; we see instead the way of the world in all its glory or decay (depending on one’s perspective). So the prophets offer us new eyes—eyes of faith.
We have known this, known that the life of faith is one typically bereft of sight. But we rise against this; we want so desperately to see. This is why so many of us settle for the tangible, for a house at the beach now rather than a room in the Christ’s big house later. We have vision problems, and refuse glasses held out by the prophets.
Without vision, people perish, we are told—from a text casually and commonly applied to business (or business-like) applications. This text becomes the linchpin for developing ‘vision statements’ for churches, small groups, families, and individuals, encouraging them all to express what they’d like to occur—what they can envision. But read the statement more literally, as if it were said by a prophet, and refers to what a prophet does (remember, if this helps, that in the old days, prophets were first called ‘seers’). Using this lens, to mix a metaphor, it sounds different. It sounds like we need what prophets see.
Which is hope.
Prophets call us to a life of faith—because (here it gets a little strange once more), the hope which is so sure is still invisible to our human eyes. Thankfully, though, it is not imperceptible to hearts tuned by the Spirit toward the way of Jesus. Such hearts see quite well—and seeing, they welcome hope.
So this is our program, to affirm that the hope promised by the one true God is every bit as real as linoleum, and even more durable. And even when we cannot see it as such, we hold that it good, and worthy of our pursuit and longing. This takes faith, but then what of merit doesn’t? It takes faith to believe my wife loves me, that dawn will happen, that the food I ingest won’t kill me. But I think so little of these things, in large part because so far, they’ve all worked out pretty well. There’s a track record for my spouse, the sun, and the grocery store which establishes confidence and allows me to live without fretting.
And God’s track record? For this, note how many of the prophets are exonerated during Jesus’ first advent. A wide chorus of voices from different epochs and cultures sing in unison and by this build faith in the hope they see. This hope is a stake for us, a firm point around which we can turn with confidence and joy. Not a blue sky possibility, nor a vaporware promise, but real, good, worthy, true hope.
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Today–Epiphany–commemorates the visit of Magi to Jesus, and from that, the call to incarnate grace as the hands, feet, and heart of the Lord. As the twelfth day of Christmas, it also marks the end of Advent and Christmastide. Now comes a brief run of ‘ordinary time’ which will take us to Lent, and the great celebration of Christ’s resurrection.
