Showing posts with label Now and Not Yet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Now and Not Yet. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 18, 2025

Our Hope in Christ

 Our Hope in Christ

1 Corinthians 15:12-26[1]

Hope is a crucial aspect of human life. We cannot thrive without a sense of hope. While I think many would agree that hope is a mindset we can learn, it doesn’t just come automatically. And when we lack a healthy sense of hope about our lives we can find it hard to believe that they have meaning and purpose. That puts us at risk for sliding into depression, anxiety, or even suicidal thoughts. A lack of hope can affect us in more “physical” ways, like diminishing our ability to cope with the stress we all face as a part of life. Hope gives us confidence to persevere in hard times, because we believe that there is indeed meaning and purpose to our lives, each and every one of our lives. That kind of resilience enables us to move forward with our goals in life and with our commitments to family and work and service.

Hope keeps us going when everything in life seems to conspire against us. But hope can be risky as well. We can put our hope in all the wrong things. We may be hoping for a nicer car, a bigger home, a better job, a more fulfilling relationship. Hoping for those things isn’t in and of itself wrong. There is a forward-looking aspect to all hope. But when we stake too much of our well-being on hoping for the wrong things, if those hopes come crashing down, so do we. That’s when false hope can hurt us deeply. It can shake our faith in others, in the meaning of life, even in the goodness of God.

Our lesson from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians for today addresses hope from the perspective of Christian faith. Specifically, Paul was addressing the hope of the resurrection. I dare say that’s not something that’s high on our list of hopes these days. As Christians, we hope to “go to heaven” when we die, to be with Jesus and to be reunited with our loved ones. But that’s not the focus of hope in the New Testament. The focus of Christian hope is that we will share Jesus’ resurrection, in bodily form, and that in that new body we will enjoy new life in God’s (re)new(ed) creation.[2] In fact, for Paul the hope of sharing in Jesus’ resurrection is so foundational for Christian faith that he could say, “if there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then your faith is useless” and “we are more to be pitied than anyone in the world” (1 Cor 15:16-17, 19, NLT).

It may be hard for us to understand how Christians who lived only 30 years after the first Easter Sunday could somehow doubt the resurrection of Jesus. Part of the problem in Corinth may have been that in the Greek world, the idea of a future “resurrection” in which the dead live again in physical form was thought to be crude and disgusting. In the Greek world, people looked forward to being set free from the “prison house” of the body. They believed that death was a transition from physical life in a body to living among the stars in the heavens as an immortal soul. “Resurrection” just didn’t compute to them. They would have been much more comfortable with our notions of “going to heaven” when you die. In fact, it was the influence of this line of thinking about three hundred years after Paul’s day that shifted Christian hope from sharing Jesus’ life in God’s (re)new(ed) creation to eternal life in heaven.

Some of the believers at Corinth went to the opposite extreme. They heard some of the wonderful promises of new life in the Gospel message Paul and others had preached. And because they heard in that message that they already had eternal life fully and completely because of what Jesus did, they believed that they had all they were ever going to receive of salvation. They bypassed the promise of God’s future as resurrected people living on a recreated earth in the way God had intended in the first place—without sadness or pain, suffering or injustice, violence or even death. They believed that all they were ever going to get from their faith was what they had right then and right there.

But St. Paul wouldn’t accept either of these options. For him, the inevitable consequence of Jesus’ resurrection on that first Easter Sunday morning was that we would all share in the new life Jesus now enjoys. He says it this way: “Christ has been raised from the dead” as “the first of a great harvest of all who have died” (1 Cor 15:20, NLT). For Paul, Jesus’ resurrection meant more than God had intervened to vindicate Jesus and his message. For Paul, Jesus’ resurrection meant the beginning of the transformation of all things and all people! It meant the beginning of God’s whole new creation that would eventually “make all things new” (Rev. 21:5).[3] It’s hard to wrap your head around that big of an idea. But for Paul tampering with that hope meant tampering with the Gospel message. And that was something he never allowed!

The promise of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that he died on the cross so that we could know without a shadow of a doubt that God loves us—he always has and always will. The promise of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that his death broke the power of everything that could separate us from God or harm us in any way. The promise of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that his resurrection overcame even death itself and brought new life to everyone. Paul said it this way, “In Adam all of us die. In the same way, in Christ all of us will be made alive again. (1 Cor 15:22, NCV). And that means that what God has done through Jesus is nothing less than to set in motion the process of restoring everything in all creation to the way that he intended in the first place. Just as Jesus enjoys that resurrected life now, so we too can look forward to enjoying the same life in God’s (re)new(ed) creation.

We need all kinds of hopes to keep us going. Hope in the form of looking forward to doing something fun. Hope in the form of knowing that there are friends and family who will always love us no matter what. Hope in the form of trusting that all our needs will be supplied by our God. But more than that, we need a hope that can motivate us to do as our affirmation of faith for today puts it: “to take up our cross, risking the consequences of faithful discipleship; to walk by faith, not by sight.” It takes serious hope to give us the courage and the strength to “plunge … into the present struggle.”[4] The reason for that is that we can see injustice and violence and even death at work all around us to this day.

Yes, we already have a taste of the amazing grace of God at work in our lives here and now. But I think our experience with the bitterness of death can help us truly appreciate the hope Jesus gives us by rising from the grave.[5] Those of us who have looked into the eyes of a loved who was there a few moments ago, but is gone now, those of us who know the bitterness of death, must know that we cannot accomplish God’s work in this world on our own. It’s just too big! Because what God is doing is nothing short of restoring of all things and everyone to the life that God intended for us in the first place. And that’s what he is doing even now through the power of Jesus’ death and the power of Jesus’ resurrection to new life. Our hope is that power is already working to change our lives now. But our hope is also the recognition that we have not yet tasted it fully and finally as we will when we all share in Jesus’ life in God’s (re)new(ed) creation. Sharing that life, the life that Jesus now enjoys, in God’s (re)new(ed) creation: that is our hope in Christ. And that hope gives us courage and strength to press on, come what may.



[1] © 2025 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 2/16/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Cf. Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians: a commentary on the Greek text, 1229: “the resurrection of Jesus was not to restore life in the conditions of continuing earthly existence (and eventual death) but to initiate a transformed mode of existence as the firstfruits (v. 20) of the eschatological new creation.”

[3] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, Ethics of Hope, 55, where he says that in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ “the eschatological turn of the world begins, from transience to non-transience, from the night of the world to the morning of God’s new day and to the new creation of all things” (emphasis original).

[4] Cf. “A Declaration of Faith,” 9.5, 10.1, 5 (Presbyterian Church in the United States, 117th General Assembly 1977, reissued by Presbyterian Church [U.S.A.], 1991).

[5] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 171-72, 210-11. He holds in tension the “deadliness of death” which still persists in our experience of life with the “promise and hope of a still outstanding, real eschaton,” that is, a future that is defined not by death but by life.

Tuesday, December 04, 2018

Standing on the Edge


Standing on the Edge
Jeremiah 33:14-16, Luke 21:27[1]
Promises are powerful words. They can reassure us when we’re feeling afraid or lonely or rejected. They can encourage us when we’re doubting ourselves or wondering whether we are lovable. They can motivate us to act when we question whether anything we do or say matters. Promises are powerful words. Of course, power can be used for good or for evil. Sometimes promises become a means of manipulating people. At times, those promises may stem from good intentions. At times, they may stem from a blatant aim of getting people to do what we want without any thought of fulfilling the promise made. I believe most of us would like to think, however, that we use promises for good. We know that promises are powerful words.
If we take promises seriously, they may leave us standing on the edge of anticipation. After all, a promise points toward the future. Our ability to trust in a promise may rest on past experiences. If we have had promises made to us and broken, it can be hard to trust in any promise at all. When it comes to our faith, essentially we’re trusting in a promise that has not yet come to pass. And when we do so, we’re anticipating an outcome that we hope to see based on the promise made. It can feel a little bit like standing on an edge: the edge of a curb, or the edge of a journey, or the edge of a major life decision. Promises leave us standing on the edge.
I think the promises in our Scripture lessons for Advent function that way: they raise our hopes but they also leave us on the edge of anticipation. In the midst of the brokenness of our world, we greet the promise of something new and better with relief, and joy, and a sense of hope that perhaps all things will, after all, be put right. At the same time, if we are paying attention to the brokenness in our world, these promises create in us a kind of “holy dissatisfaction” with the way things are. They leave us standing on the edge of a whole new world that has been promised, but has not yet fully come to pass. The promises in the Scriptures for Advent raise our hopes, but they also leave us standing on the edge of anticipation.
The promises in the Scriptures for Advent have a different kind of edge to them. They speak of the one who is to come in a way that we may not be able to fully grasp. We seem to want a Savior who will grant to us eternal life and perhaps also the occasional prayer request. But the promised one in our Scriptures for Advent looks different from that. The promise that the Lord says he will “surely fulfill” concerns one who comes to “execute justice and righteousness in the land.” We’re not used to associating a Savior with “justice and righteousness.” But if we pay careful attention, we will find that establishing that which is truly just and right is at the heart of God’s promise.
I think perhaps part of what creates the edge for us here is that we are not used to thinking of salvation in these terms. Salvation concerns eternal life in the hereafter and abundant life now. As it turns out, however, creating the conditions for a life that is truly just and right is actually central to what salvation looks like in the Bible. Part of the “edge” in this promise is that it confronts us all with the ways in which we conduct our lives that are not just and right. It is a promise that contains hints of judgment. When the one God promised comes, he will bring to light all of our shortcomings. In fact, Jesus said that we will all face judgment to the extent of every “careless word” (Mt. 12:36). And yet, we have to remember that it is Jesus who is the one who be setting things right. Nevertheless, that promise has an edge that may leave us all a little unsettled.
There is also a further edge to these promises, in that they point us forward to the hope of the day when the Son of Man will come “with power and great glory.” At this time of the year, we may feel good about welcoming the “baby Jesus.” A baby, as most of us know well, is cute and cuddly and warms our hearts. At least that’s how we like to think of them. Parents, of course, know that babies have their moments that aren’t so cute.
But our Scripture readings speak of a very different person coming. They convey to us the promise of a mighty Savior who will come to establish God’s Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. That may not fit very well with our version of celebrating Christmas. But if we listen carefully to the promises of Scripture, this is the Savior we should be welcoming. He is the one who comes with God’s authority and power to right the wrongs and to bring hope to the hopeless. He comes to fulfill God’s new world.
If we pay close attention, the promises of Advent leave us standing on the edge. They leave us standing on the edge of anticipation. There is something within us all that longs for the love of God that will heal our broken hearts and bring to pass a better world. The promises of Advent leave us standing on the edge of the restoration of what is just and right. As we watch events unfolding all around us, it’s painfully apparent that what is just and right does not always prevail in our world. Perhaps more painful is the realization that we don’t always practice what is just and right in our own lives. Finally, the promises of Advent point us to the coming of a mighty Savior to establish God’s Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. In so doing, the leave us standing on the edge of world we’ve always hoped for but could never quite find. I know this hope is one that is difficult to hold these days, but may the promises of Advent encourage us to live in the hope that our Savior is continually working to bring this new world into our world.


[1] ©2018 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 12/2/2018 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman NE.

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Apocalypse Now

2 Cor. 4:3-6; Mk. 9:2-9[1]

The word “Apocalypse” is a bad word for most of us. It carries connotations of the total annihilation of life, the end of the world in some great conflagration. One of the reasons why we make that association is that the writings that claim to be “apocalypses” typically make dire predictions about the destruction of life on earth. I think one of the reasons why people like you and me have been so fascinated with apocalypses that threaten the end of the world in a blazing inferno is because we want to know; we want to know what will happen to life, we want to know what will happen to us and those we love. Ironically, then, people of faith have looked to these predictions of doom for hope and reassurance!

But originally, the word “apocalypse” meant something very different. The word “apocalypse” in Greek means a disclosure, an unveiling, or a revealing of what is hidden. And so, for example, the book of Revelation is actually titled the “Apocalypse” of Jesus Christ—not because it threatens some horrific end-times scenario, but because it reveals of God’s intentions for this world. From that perspective, the idea of “apocalypse” actually lies at the root of Christian faith. As we have discussed throughout Epiphany, one of the major themes in the Gospels is that Jesus revealed the presence of God’s kingdom, already working among us to make all things new, to set things right and restore life as God intended for it to be. In a very real sense, we could say that Jesus’ whole life and ministry was an “apocalypse”: it was an unveiling, a disclosure of God’s work of salvation for us all and for all creation.

But as we have also discussed throughout Epiphany, the “apocalypse” that took place in Jesus is a “veiled disclosure,” one which is hidden and easily overlooked. It might make more sense for us to speak of Jesus’ life and ministry as a kind of preview—where we get a taste of what is coming but the full dimension of what that is remains to be seen. That’s what the transfiguration of Jesus was—a preview of what is to come. Whatever you make of it in terms of “just the facts”, the point of the transfiguration was that it was a pre-view of Jesus’ resurrection. And, in turn, one aspect Jesus’ resurrection is that it serves as a pre-view of the resurrection of all life and indeed all creation.[2] So the “apocalypse” that occurred when Jesus was transfigured before his disciples reveals the light of God’s new life already breaking into this world.[3] When we pay attention to the “preview” of what is to come that we have in everything from Jesus’ birth to his transfiguration, from his compassion to his death to his resurrection and ascension, what we see actually looks nothing like some horrible fire and brimstone day of reckoning, but rather like the Garden of Eden renewed.

St. Paul the Apostle says it this way, “God commanded light to shine in the dark—Now God is shining in our hearts!” (2 Corinthians 4:6 CEV). Although St. Paul knew as much as anyone that the light that God has poured into this world of darkness is one that can be veiled, he nevertheless believed without a doubt that the light is indeed shining. The Apostle shared the conviction—not simply an opinion but a deeply-rooted conviction—that what God has done in this world through Jesus Christ has changed everything.[4] The nature of that change is such that it can be easily overlooked, but it is nevertheless the foundation of Paul’s faith: the light of God’s new life and new creation is already shining here and now.[5]

For those of us who long for the security of knowing that all we could hope for or believe in about our faith is ultimately true, there is nothing in Scripture that will satisfy that longing. I’m afraid that means the fear-mongers who produce “Apocalypses” of doom will continue to have a thriving business. But if we are willing to take the risk of hoping for more than we have yet seen,[6] what we can have is assurance. We can have the assurance that Jesus’ life and death and resurrection serves as a disclosure, an unveiling, an “apocalypse” now in our day and time of the new creation that God will one day bring in all its beauty to restore all life in this world.[7]

We can have the assurance that comes from the fact that Jesus’ whole existence points us to the promise that “I am making the whole of creation new” (Revelation 21:5). It points us toward the promise that the new creation will mean “I have swallowed up death forever” (Isaiah 25:8) and “I will wipe away every tear” (Revelation 21:4). It points us to a world in which “they will all know me, from the greatest to the least” (Jeremiah 31:34), and “they will beat their swords into ploughshares” (Isaiah 2:4). It points us to the hope that one day God will be “all in all”—and that will be a day when everyone and everything will be filled with God’s life and love and joy and peace.[8]



[1] © 2009 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 2/22/09 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] Cf., for example, 1 Corinthians 15:20 where Paul says that Jesus was raised from the dead as the “first-fruits,” or anticipation, of the resurrection of all humankind.

[3] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 251: he speaks of the resurrection of Jesus from the dead in terms of a “transfiguration” that “is the beginning of the transfiguration of all mortal life.”

[4] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.3.489, where he deals with the affirmations of universal salvation in the Bible as an anticipation of “the final and conclusive future of God” that is through the redemption effected in Jesus Christ “already the one reality which here and now still encounters us in concealment.”

[5] Cf. Barth, Dogmatics 4.3.490-91; cf. also Moltmann, Way of Jesus Christ, 223: the resurrection of Jesus “speaks its own language of promise and well-founded hope, but is not yet the language of accomplished fact.”

[6] Cf. A Declaration of Faith, PCUS (1977) §10.1.

[7] Cf. Moltmann, Way of Jesus Christ, 219.

[8] Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.3.319 says it this way: we look forward to the day when “the light of life which has appeared in Him will penetrate and fill even the remotest corner of the cosmos.”

First Light

Mk. 1:14-20; 1 Cor. 7:29-31[1]

There aren’t too many things that Bible Scholars all agree on. That’s just as true of Jesus as any other subject of biblical study. But one thing about which pretty much all Bible Scholars agree is that the theme of Jesus’ “gospel” was that “the kingdom of God is at hand.” Now, of course, they don’t all agree about the significance of that message, but they do agree that’s what Jesus preached.

I find it strange that most people these days, if you asked them if the kingdom of God is here, would say no. In fact, I had some seminary students who did a research project on “the Kingdom of God in Jesus’ teaching,” and as a part of their research they did a survey of random people asking them that very question. And everyone they met answered the same thing—no, the kingdom of God is not here. I guess that’s why there’s such a strange silence in the church about the kingdom of God.

Part of the problem, as I’ve mentioned before, is that we just don’t get the whole “kingdom” bit. For us, a “kingdom” is a place where people suffer the injustice of having their basic civil rights denied them. Kings are tyrants who enrich themselves at the expense of their people. Kings exploit, they oppress, they enslave. But the “kingdom of God” has nothing to do with that. According to the Hebrew prophets, when the “kingdom of God” comes the whole world will follow God’s compassionate justice and everyone will enjoy life the way it was intended to be.

Jesus’ announcement of the good news that God is already working to redeem this world took place initially amid contradictory indicators. Like being “driven” by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil (Mark 1:13). And like John the Baptizer being arrested and ultimately executed by Herod Antipas (Mark 1:14; cf. Mark 6:27). And if you took the time to read the whole gospel of Mark, you would notice “how quickly the powers of evil are mounted against Jesus.” [2]

All was not right with the world when Jesus made his announcement, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand.” There were plenty of indications that the world was dominated by other kingdoms in that day. There was plenty of evidence to suggest that the notion that God had entered this world definitively to make all things new was a pipe dream.

We have the same problem today. Our faith still rests on the good news that in Jesus the Christ “the kingdom of God” has come—that God has entered this world definitively to set everything right and to make all things new.[3] And yet, if you look around, it’s probably much easier to see signs of the other kingdoms that dominate our world than to notice the signs of God’s kingdom. That might lead one to think that if the kingdom of God really was present during Jesus’ day, it must have disappeared somewhere along the way.

But there are signs of God’s kingdom in our world if we have eyes to see them. Take for example a person like Nelson Mandela. He resolutely stood against the power of an oppressive system, maintaining hope in the midst of despair, never giving in to bitterness but freely forgiving his oppressors.

Or we could think about Henri Nouwen. He was a catholic priest and university professor who gave up his academic career to work with mentally handicapped people. He lived his whole life with the pain of isolation, a pain that was inflicted initially by his own family. But in the midst of his loss, he found a capacity for joy that few in this world ever attain. And out of his pain and loss, he shared his joy with the rest of us in his writings, which will forever continue to encourage and inspire those of us looking for signs of God’s kingdom.

Or we could think about Mother Teresa, a woman who for 45 years offered love to those who are loveless. In a very real sense, she brought life from death time and time again as she and her sisters of charity served the crippled, the blind, the lepers, refugees, and victims of all kinds of natural disasters, not only in Calcutta but throughout the world.

I guess if you think of the “kingdom of God” exclusively in terms of a future world where all things are set right and all people are enabled to live the life they were intended to live, it would be easy to miss the signs of what God is doing in our world today. But the “kingdom” that Jesus announced as “the gospel of God” is one that is already among us.[4] When asked about this, Jesus himself pointed to the “signs” of the kingdom: “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them” (Matthew 11:5).[5] It is the good news that we celebrate during this season of Epiphany: in Jesus the Christ God has entered this world definitively to set everything right. And God is still working among us to make all things new.



[1] © 2009 Alan Brehm. A sermon preached by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 1/25/09 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX and at A Community of the Servant-Savior Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

[2] Paul S. Berge, "The Beginning of the Good News: The Epiphany Gospels in Mark and John," Word & World 17(Winter, 1997), 97-98.

[3] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, III.2, 460-61: “in and with” Jesus as the “Bearer of God’s good news,” the kingdom came “in hidden but very real form.”

[4] Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ, 95-96: “The gospel is not a utopian description of some far-off future. It is the daybreak of this future in the pardoning, promising word that sets people free.” He continues, “God’s present, liberating and healing activity points beyond itself to the kingdom of freedom and salvation. But through God’s lordship, the coming kingdom already throws its light ahead of itself into this history of struggle.”

[5] Cf. also Barth, Church Dogmatics, III.2, 460.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

“Everything’s Changed”[1]

Jeremiah 31:31-34; John 12:20-32

In our gospel lesson for today, Jesus begins to explain to his disciples the meaning of the events that are about to take place. He is going to Jerusalem, where he will be killed by the Jewish and Roman leaders. What he wants them to understand, however, is that it will not be the end, but rather a new beginning. By offering himself as a willing sacrifice, Jesus will break the power of the ruler of this world. He will make it possible for all people to be drawn to him. His death on a cross will change everything.

C. S. Lewis, in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, tells the story of four children who discover a land called Narnia. It is a place ruled by a White Witch whose cruel and seemingly absolute power keeps Narnia in a constant state of winter. Although one might think that under those circumstances Narnia would be a lifeless, hopeless place, in fact many of the creatures of Narnia are filled with hope. An ancient prophecy said that when 2 Sons of Adam and 2 Daughters of Eve sat on the thrones at Cair Paravel, the lion Aslan, the true King of Narnia, would return to set things right. The children—Lucy, Edmond, Susan, and Peter—are the children of the prophecy.

A Light Shining in Darkness. For that reason, the White Witch entices Edmond to betray his brother and sisters to her. She does not want Aslan to come and interfere with her rule of Narnia. She thinks that if she can keep them from fulfilling the prophecy, she can be ruler of Narnia forever. But she is thwarted because when the children arrive in Narnia, they discover that Aslan is already on the move. The simple fact of his presence has already begun to change Narnia. When Aslan is there, he melts the perpetual winter the Witch had imposed over the land. His presence changes everything.

In a very real sense, according to John’s Gospel Jesus’ presence has much the same effect. As John can say, “In him was life and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it” (Jn. 1:4-5). The simple fact of Jesus’ coming means that “the ruler of this world will be driven out” (Jn. 12:31) just as surely as light dispels darkness. Jesus’ coming changed everything. What that means for us is that, instead of resigning ourselves to this world that can be just as cold and lifeless as Narnia under the Witch’s spell, we can live with a whole new outlook on life—one that is filled with hope.

Deep Magic. In the story of Aslan, the children make their way to the Stone Table where they will meet him. The Witch shows up and insists that Edmond belongs to her by right of the “Deep Magic from the Dawn of Time.” The Deep Magic said that the Witch had the right to put any traitor to death. But Aslan proposes an alternative—he will offer himself to her in exchange for Edmond. Thinking that she has outwitted the lion, the Witch accepts his proposal. After Aslan is dead, she intends to kill the children and secure her rule of Narnia forever! But something unexpected happens. After Aslan is murdered, he comes back to life! By offering himself in place of Edmond, Aslan destroys the “Deep Magic” that had given the Witch her power over Narnia, and thus ensures her defeat. He changed everything.

That’s what Jesus’ sacrifice of himself on the cross does in real life. By his death and resurrection Jesus revoked the power of the “ruler of this world.” The very fact of Jesus’ death and resurrection changed everything—as our scripture said, “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.” Jesus changed everything.

Everything’s Changing There is one major difference between the story of Aslan and the story of Jesus. In Narnia, Aslan returns to life and leads the children and their subjects to defeat the Witch. They take up their thrones and rule for many years, bringing peace and joy to Narnia.

In real life, Jesus’ presence is like a light that dispels the darkness, but the darkness is still there. Although Jesus has broken the power of the “ruler of this world,” there are many people who still submit to him. This world really can be just as cold and lifeless as Narnia under the Witch’s spell! While it is true that Jesus’ life and death and resurrection changed everything, it’s also true that everything is still in the process of changing.

What enables us to live with hope in the midst of this world is the fact that Jesus’ death and resurrection point us forward to a future when the power of evil will be no more, when he will restore everyone and everything. We can look forward with confidence the day when Jesus will draw all people to himself. As we live with that hope, we become signs of the future victory. But just as darkness cannot overcome light, so nothing can prevent Jesus from winning the final victory.



[1] A sermon preached 4/2/06 at First Presbyterian Church, Dickinson, TX.