A Living Hope — Part Two

First Peter chapter 1. We are at the beginning of some studies here that Peter is writing to Christians scattered throughout the known world of his day—peculiarly, the area of modern Turkey, if we were looking for it on a map now. He’s writing to encourage them because they’re living in an environment in which the authorities that are responsible for them, and to whom they in turn are responsible, are alien in their thinking, are very diverse in their approach to the things of God, and so it presents a great challenge and a tremendous opportunity for those who are believers to witness to their faith in Christ.

And last time, as we looked at the third verse, we concentrated primarily on three things. We noticed, first of all, this word “mercy” with the adjective “great” in front of it: “the great mercy” of God, which, we said, assumes only need on our part and the abundant provision on God’s part. It is not that we earn what God is giving but that we receive what he’s giving. And he gives according to his great mercy.

What is it that he gives? Well, we went on to discover that he gives us “new birth.” And the reason that he gives us new birth is because we are spiritually dead. And we attempted to say last time that we ought not to be overshadowed by the symptoms of death, whereby, in physical terms, we might be taken into a mortuary and shown one body that had been ravished as a result of, perhaps, a dreadful motorcar incident and another body where the person had slipped quietly into eternity in their sleep. And from the externals, we might say, “Well, that one definitely looks dead, but this one doesn’t look dead at all.” But in actual fact, the medical authorities would be able to affirm for us the truth that while one may have looked more dead than the other, both were equally dead. And we said last time that those of us who live in an environment where we are able to enjoy a fair measure of provision and small amounts of prosperity, we ought not to fall into the trap of assuming that, symptomatically, we can see the ravages of spiritual death around us and at arm’s length from us. Because when we look into the Word of God, what it says is that the integrated, happy, suburban pagan is just as dead and in need of new birth—a new birth which comes as a result of God’s great mercy and brings those individuals who experience it into a living hope.

And that was the third thing which we considered—indeed, we began to consider. And we noticed that this living hope was living because Jesus is living and that it was on account of his resurrection from the dead. And it was a hope which is not simply earthed in time, but it is a hope which has a future dimension to it. And that was why we read earlier this morning there in Romans chapter 8. Some people today—and there’s probably some this morning—are very interested in the Friends of the Earth and all the things that we might do concerning acid rain and the pollution of our environment, etc., so that we might live in a cleaner, healthier environment. And that’s not wrong. Indeed, as Christians, we certainly should be playing our part in many more of these things than probably we ever give attention to. However, there must always be a limit for the Christian, because the Christian knows the whole story: simply, that this creation today is groaning as in the travail of childbirth, and it is waiting for the redemption of the sons of God.[1] So we are not waiting somehow to make our environment perfect, and therein lies our hope. But whatever we might do for the well-being of humanity we do with our eyes towards a further destination, because we are looking beyond.

“Kept in Heaven”

And it is to that looking beyond that the fourth verse brings us. If in the third verse we saw what we’ve been given, in the fourth verse we discover what we’ve been guaranteed. We’ve been brought, says Peter, “into an inheritance.” “An inheritance.”

Our inheritance is wrapped up not in a package but in a person. Ultimately, our inheritance is to see Jesus and to be made like him.

Now, once again, we realize that inheritances are not earned. You do not earn an inheritance. You receive it as a result of the beneficency of a previous generation or two. And so it is that for the Christian, we are going to enter, says Peter, into something that will never perish or spoil or fade, and it’s kept in heaven for us.

So, what do you have by way of inheritance as a believer this morning? What do we have to look forward to? Is there something that we might anticipate with open-eyed expectancy? And the answer is yes. Ultimately, our inheritance is not a mansion in which we live—John 14—as much as we may sing that song, although I haven’t heard it for years:

I’m satisfied with just a cottage below (oh yes),
A little silver and a little gold (oh yes),
But in that city, where the something will something,
I have a mansion up there.[2]

You know? “I’m heading for my mansion.” The fact of the matter is that most of us live in such palatial surroundings that we can’t imagine anything much better than where we are—especially when we compare it with a third of the world that today is starving to death and that every minute of our morning worship, a child under the age of five has died on the streets of Kolkata.

Our inheritance is not ultimately wrapped up in mansions and gold streets and thrones and crowns and robes and splendor. Our inheritance is wrapped up not in a package but in a person. Ultimately, our inheritance is to see Jesus and to be made like him—to be able to have a face-to-face dialogue with the risen Christ, to be able to know his gaze upon us, to be able to hear his voice, to spend time in his company. Bernard of Clairvaux, writing in the twelfth century, in his great hymn, put it in this way:

Jesus, our only joy be thou,
As thou our prize wilt be;
Jesus, be thou our glory now,
And through eternity.[3]

And so this morning, as Christians, we’ve come. Irrespective of what this morning has meant so far or however bad last week was, know this: you have been given new birth. It’s a fact. And you are guaranteed an inheritance. It’s not in the stock market, whereby you’re going to have to listen to National Public Radio or CNN Money Week just to find out how you’re doing. It is not going to fluctuate up and down and back and forth. Look at how it’s described—three descriptive terms.

First of all, the “inheritance that can never perish.” Or, in one word, it is imperishable. It cannot be injured or spoiled.

Did anybody ever tell you they were keeping a pineapple for you? If someone calls you and says, “I have a pineapple for you,” go get it pretty quickly, because from experience, if you don’t, then you’re going to have to go with a large polyurethane bag to put it in to bring it home. Because one of the factors of a pineapple—and it just seems to stand out in a pineapple; it looks such a rugged fruit—is that it is not imperishable. It’s not unique amongst fruits or vegetables in this respect, but it just has something about it. I don’t know. Pineapples sit there, kind of saying, “I am a pineapple,” you know? They have a thing about them. They tower over the oranges and over the grapes, and they sort of sit up with that thing sticking out of their heads like they’re going to last forever. But if you don’t go and get it quick, you squeeze that baby, and it’s just a pile of mush. It is an imperishable [sic] item. Well, God is not keeping pineapples for us in heaven. The inheritance that he has laid up for us is such that it cannot be spoiled.

The second word is, in fact, the word “spoil,” but it takes it on further. Because the spoiling here doesn’t mean simply the degenerative dimension as to what might happen to a fruit but rather the notion of being unstained or undefiled. Supposing your grandfather has a study in his home, and when you go and visit your grandfather, you always sit at his big oak desk, and you love it. You love how your gran has kept it so carefully polished, and you like to sit there and open the drawers, and they slide in and out so nicely. And you always tell your grandpa, “Boy, do I admire this desk!” And one day, your grandpa says to you, “You know what, son? I am going to give this desk to you. This desk will one day be yours.” Then you’d better take great care every time you go to the house. And you’d better tell your gran to make great care of it while she’s polishing. And you’d better tell your dad not to go tampering with it, because, sure, the desk is coming to you, but I can guarantee that no matter how much care is taken of it in the home, some clod somewhere will bang it against something en route to your house one day. And the chances of it ever reaching your study unspoiled or unstained is actually infinitesimal. But the inheritance that awaits the believer this morning in heaven, it’s not up there, as it were, getting all spoiled and bashed around. Nobody’s spilling things on it. Nobody’s messing it up. Nobody’s tampering with it. It’s there with your name on it this morning. Your names are graven in the palms of God’s hands.[4] “The very hairs of your head are … numbered.”[5]

And he has, believer, for you an inheritance that is up there. It is an imperishable inheritance. It is an unstainable, undefilable inheritance. And thirdly, he says, it is an unfading inheritance. I’m sorry to use so many analogies from the house, I just… Another one comes to my mind. Imagine your mother says she’ll give you the drapes from her living room, which you’ve always admired. Well, fine, but when you take them down after all those years and transfer them to your home, they’ll be faded. They’ll be faded. It’s impossible for them to be in the sunlight without them being faded. And no matter how gloriously they may hang today, they will be diminished tomorrow. But not the inheritance that God has for the believer. And it’s guaranteed!

See, let me ask you this morning: What else do you have in the whole world that is undefiled, imperishable, and can’t fade? Tell me one thing. It’s not your life. It’s not your relationships. It’s not your money. It’s not your car. It’s not your home. It’s nothing, save one thing: Jesus Christ. He is the only one. He is our all in all. He is all we may hope for. He is all our joy. He is all our future. And before him, everything else we may possess and hope for fades into oblivion—unless, of course, we have begun to worship and have our gaze consumed by that which is other than our guarantee.

“And into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade” that is “kept in heaven for you.” The three verbal adjectives say this of our inheritance—and if you’re taking notes here, it is a summary: one, my inheritance is going to be untouched by death, unstained by evil, and unimpaired by time.

I discovered a new phrase when I came here. Somebody told me that they would leave tickets for me for an event. I said, “Well, where will I get them?” They said, “You’ll get them at the will call.” So I said, “Fine.” And I put the phone down, and I said, “I wonder what a wilko is.” And I wrote it down. I tried to decipher it: “Wilko—w-i-l-k-o. Wilko. How will I know what a wilko is?” And then I discovered, “Here we go again. It’s in my ears the problem lies.” The person was saying, “Will call.” So why couldn’t you say, “Will call”? Why do you have to say, “Will call”? “They’ll be at the will call.” “Okay, fine.”

Well, you’re driving in the car, and you have this assurance: they will be at the will call with your name on them. And as you drive in your car, what are you saying to yourself? “I wonder if they’ll be there.” And right up until the very last minute, no matter who gave the guarantee, no matter how rock-solid it might be, you have a measure of uncertainty until you produce your driver’s license and you wait in that anxious moment as they go through all those little white envelopes, about this long, to see if your name is on it and if you’re actually there.

Listen! That’s not how you’re going to go to heaven, believer. When Jesus Christ said, “It’s left at will call,” it’s left at will call. And when we get up there, there’s no question. You won’t even need a driver’s license. They won’t need two identification symbols. You just stand up there and say, “I’m here with Jesus,” and the inheritance is yours, unimpaired by time, unstained by evil, and untouched by death.

“Shielded by God’s Power”

There’s a second question that we ask as we’re driving in the car towards that gate, and it’s not simply “Will they still be there?” but “Will I ever get there?” As you go down 271 towards the Coliseum, that’s the second question that comes to your mind: “What if the tickets are there and I’m not there? Just think of them sitting there being unused while I’m stuck here! I need to know that I can get there too.” That’s verse 5. Because he says, “Not only have you been given new birth, not only are you guaranteed an inheritance, but thirdly,” he says, “you’re guarded, and you’re kept, so you’re going to get there.” Notice what he says: “who through faith are shielded by God’s power”—the word there is “guarded” or “protected” by God’s power—“until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time.”

Incidentally, here in this section, we answer two of the very troubling questions that people often have in relation to coming to faith in Christ. One of the thoughts that is so frequently expressed is simply this: “You know, I’m not good enough ever to become a Christian.” And that is answered in verse 3—according to “his great mercy”; that you’re right: you aren’t good enough. And neither am I, and neither are any of us. But it is God’s mercy which may bring us into faith.

The second concern is often this: “I don’t think that if I ever came to faith in Christ, that I could ever keep going.” And the answer to that is right here in verse 5: no, you will only be able to keep going as you are guarded and kept by God’s great power. And as buffetings and trials come, as we’re about to see in a moment, it is that God keeps us. The word here in the Greek is a great word. It is the word phrouroumenous. Phrouroumenous—a useful word if ever you jam your finger in your car door or something. “Phrouroumenous!” And it means to be guarded or to be shielded. It’s the same picture that is used in Philippians 4—verses that we often turn to. Philippians 4—a garrison town to the Roman authorities, and Paul picks up the picture, and he says, “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”[6] It’s the same word—this protective nature. And the individuals would think of the soldiers standing guard of the garrison there. And up they would be on the walls, and they would feel secure within the city. And Paul says, “That’s the picture of what God does.” And Peter says, “I agree with that. And God’s power is the garrison in which we find our security.”

You see, where does our security lie this morning in concerns of our health? How many of us know that we have a year left, or two months left, or even two days left? Where does our security lie? Our lives are like a vapor that appears for a little while and vanishes.[7] We’re like the breeze in the morning; we come, and we go. So where does our security lie in terms of our physical frame? Where does our security lie in terms of our provision for the future? Where does it rest? Peter says to these individuals—these first-century believers—says, “Don’t look here and there.” Says, “Look up! You have an inheritance, and it is definitely there, and you will definitely be there for it, because you are being garrisoned by his power. You are looking forward to a salvation that is ready to be revealed at the last time.” In other words, it is as we’ve seen before: that we have been saved from sin’s penalty, we are daily being saved from sin’s power, and one day we’re going to be saved from sin’s presence.

And it is to this future dimension that Peter refers, which he says will be unveiled for us. The word there, “revealed,” is an important word as well. It doesn’t mean created. It doesn’t mean that somehow they are patching it up and putting it together. There is a salvation that is “ready to be revealed.” No one is adding the final touches to it. It is not that behind the curtains, as it were, there’s all pandemonium going on. No, no. It’s all finished and done with—all because of Calvary, all because of what Jesus did. And all that remains now is for curtain up. Curtain up. So he put the tickets in our name, and he says we’ll definitely be there. And when we arrive, he’ll pull the curtain up, and the show will begin.

Well, that’s tremendous, isn’t it? I may not have Trump Tower in the heart of Manhattan, but ol’ Donny boy ain’t seen nothing compared to what I’ve got. And he is as lost in all his millions. Do you ever pray for those photographs in the Dairy Mart—the heroes of our Western world, the people that we assume have really made it? What have they made? Just a bigger mess. Just a more obvious mess. Just death in glorious Technicolor, without God and without hope in the world.[8]

“All Kinds of Trials”

And so, when the trials come and when the buffetings face us, as he goes on to say in verse 6, this will be our confidence. “In this,” he says, “you greatly rejoice.” “When you are grieved,” he said, “here’s an anchor in the storm. It’s in the knowledge of God’s work in salvation. That gives me grounds for rejoicing, even when the waters of grief overflow my life, even when I face,” as he says, “a variety of trials,” at the end of verse 6.

What does Scripture teach concerning trials in the life of the believer? Well, it teaches a great deal. Let me give you just one or two pointers.

First of all, it teaches that we are not removed from the pain of their presence. To come to Christ does not remove us from the realm of suffering. And many this morning are able to testify to that fact—to the awareness of what Jesus said in John 16:33. He said, “In this world, you will have tribulation. You will have all kinds of trials.” But he said, “Hang on. Be of good cheer, because I have overcome the world.”[9] And some of us may have come this morning feeling a little bit disappointed that we would be in the midst of something like this. And I want you to see: don’t let it be a stumbling block that brings you down; let it be a stepping-stone that takes you on, that we might acknowledge, first of all, that trials and Christianity are actually interwoven, not disparate.

Secondly, that trials aren’t going to last forever. The phrase there in verse 6, “for a little while,” is important. It, incidentally, is not a phrase that we ought to use glibly with people who are going through difficulties. I don’t suggest that we go out from here this morning and go and see somebody who is dealing with a terminal illness or with a child that is in need of great care or with a prolonged experience of being unemployed and give them a little “for a little while” talk. That’s easy enough to do on the outside looking in. It’s not so easy on the inside looking out. But for those of us who are on the inside looking out this morning and think that everything’s going to be this bad forever, Peter says, “You’d better realize something: that even if this lasted for the whole of your life, your life is a very short time in relation to eternity.” And some have gone through their Christian experience suffering with the pain of physical impairment, with the disaster of brokenheartedness, and so on. And yet they’ve been triumphant. Why? Because in the midst of grief, they have been able to hold on.

God uses trials to distinguish genuine faith from superficial profession.

So, trials are present. Trials won’t last forever. Thirdly, trials prove the genuine nature of faith. Verse 7: “These have come,” he says, “so that”—a purpose clause—“so that your faith,” which is interwoven through all of this… It is as we exercise faith that we’re shielded by God’s power. And he says this faith, which is “of greater worth than gold…” And he says gold is tried and tested in the fire, and its purity is explained and displayed. So he says, “When you go through it—when you go through deep days—realize that it will prove the genuine nature of your faith and also that it will result in praise and glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.” You see, part of the problem is that some of us are so impatient, we can’t wait for that. We live in an instant world. We want everything now. We want praise and glory and honor now. And some of us are going to have to keep going through it, and the praise and the glory and the honor will come then. God uses trials to distinguish genuine faith from superficial profession.

Fourthly, and implicit in what Peter is writing, these trials should not be wasted. Grief comes to us all. It sweetens some, and it sours others. Why can we sing with such a response in our hearts Spafford’s great words, “When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrow like sea billows roll”?[10] It’s because it rings a chord within our hearts that a man could lose his daughters in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean and still write with faith. Why did he do that? Because of what he’d been given. Because of what he was guaranteed. Because of how he was guarded, so that even when he was grieved, he could look on.

Incidentally (and it’s not a part of the story when you find it written in the books), Spafford and his wife took their children, some weeks before the voyage of the lady and the daughters to Le Havre in France—they took their daughters, one night, to hear D. L. Moody preach. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the daughters, who were of fair enough age, argued and bargued and did all the things that children do, saying, “I don’t want to go and hear that guy preach. Little fat man with a beard and a bald head! Why would I want to go there? It’s boring! It takes so long!” And Spafford said, “Hey, you’re going.” And they went, and they were converted, and within weeks they were in eternity.

Don’t miss the point, moms and dads. Since when did your children get so bright that they know what they ought to eat and where they ought to go and how they ought to spend their time? It will be you and I that stand accountable before God on the day of eternity for the issues regarding these things.

So, here we are: trials either wasted or endured and enjoyed.

“The Goal of Your Faith”

In verse 8, notice the progression, and we’re through: “Though you haven’t seen this Jesus, he’s going to be revealed.” Oh, what a wonderful, wonderful day when Jesus pulls back the curtain, and suddenly, we’re in his presence! And he says, “In the meantime, though you don’t see him,” notice it: loving, believing, rejoicing, receiving. “You love him. You don’t see him now, but you believe in him. You’re a lover. You’re a believer. And you’re filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy. You’re a rejoicer. And you are a receiver.” What are you going to receive? You’re going to receive “the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”

Halfway around the world this morning, there’s a girl called Lan. Her name is longer than that. She has a Vietnamese name. When she was eight years old, as a spindly-legged wee girl, she ran away from Vietnam with her family. They made it into mainland China, and for six years they lived in refugee camps. And then they escaped from the refugee camp under threat of beatings and death and managed to make it into Hong Kong. And now she lives in Hong Kong, in the squalid conditions, living in lattices of boxes fashioned from double-bed-sized bunk beds, stacked three high and bolted side by side, in a factory where there is no privacy at all, no fresh air hardly at all. And in the overcrowded, windowless dormitories, they eke out their existence.

There’s no shop in the camp from which the inmates can buy supplies. Instead, they’re forced to climb the three-meter-high metal walls that shut them off from the larger Kai Tak Camp that surrounds theirs. In a cruel irony, this houses refugees soon to be resettled in the West and receive their shopping requests through the barbed wire at the top. Their relatively privileged compatriots charge a markup of at least 60 percent, and the people on both sides of the fence take the chance of punishment if caught in the act. They eat a never-varying diet of fatty pork, overboiled vegetables, and rice that varies from being hard and undercooked to what Lan calls “white soup.” Right now, it’s ten to one in the morning in Hong Kong, and Lan and her young husband and her family are compressed in one of these glorified boxes.

The article from the magazine in Hong Kong paid little attention to what is the key to this lady’s existence. Because beside her bed… And I wish you could see it, and I’ll let the children see it if they want to. I’ll keep it with me, and they can come and ask me. Beside this girl’s bed is a quote from Lamentations 3:25. And this is what it reads:

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
 to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly
 for the salvation of the Lord.

And the interviewer said, “I don’t know why this girl is enabled to endure all this and yet has hope.” And the answer is: because of what she’s been given, because of what she’s guaranteed, because of how she’s guarded, so that even in the midst of dreadful grief, she’s able to lift her eyes and to look up to an inheritance that can’t ever pass away.

Is that our hope this morning? Then may God be gracious to forgive us our gloomy countenances, our disgruntled spirits, our lack of resolution. And may he stir us up to go out and shine where the clouds hang so low over the hearts of so many.

Let us bow together in prayer.

As we bow together in prayer this morning, let’s just allow the Word of God to sink into our hearts as the Spirit of God applies it to us, knowing us as individuals. Some of us have felt really hopeless in these days, and God wants to use this word just to speak peace to our hearts and encourage us. Don’t harden our necks to that. Let us be humble enough to receive God’s encouragement this morning.

And some of us, pondering God’s great goodness to us, feel so much the desire to respond in the opening of our lives to Christ and in committing ourselves to him. Some of us do not know his presence. And even where you sit this morning, you may cry out to him where you are.

Father, I thank you this morning for your Word. I thank you that I’m not left reading magazines, trying to think of something to say week by week. But even if I gave all of my time and all of my life, I could never unearth the riches of your truth, could never find the gems that are stored within your Word, that give hope in a world of hopelessness, and speak of reality in an environment of fraudulence. And so I pray that you will write your Word on my heart. Stir me up concerning what I’ve received and what I may anticipate and how you guard me even when I’m grieved.

I pray this morning that you will bless your people here in this church family and those that we represent, loved ones far from us—we commit them to your care—those who serve in the cause of Christ throughout the world, that great grace may be upon them. And Lord, we pray that you will stir up our hearts by way of pure remembrance so that we might give ourselves afresh to you today; that our words of worship with which we began, that our expressions of thanksgiving, may be from our hearts; that we might live this week in the power of the Spirit to glorify the one who gives and guards and guarantees, even in our grief.

Hear our prayers as we bring to you now our morning offering and as we commit ourselves to you afresh in consecration. For Jesus’ sake we ask it. Amen.

[1] See Romans 8:19–23.

[2] Ira Stanphil, “Mansion Over the Hilltop” (1949). Lyrics lightly altered.

[3] Bernard of Clairvaux, trans. Edward Caswall, “Jesus, the Very Thought of Thee” (1849).

[4] See Isaiah 49:16.

[5] Matthew 10:30; Luke 12:7 (NIV 1984).

[6] Philippians 4:7 (NIV 1984). Emphasis added.

[7] See James 4:14.

[8] See Ephesians 2:12.

[9] John 16:33 (paraphrased).

[10] Horatio Gates Spafford, “It Is Well with My Soul” (1873).