“Hope in the Shadows”

This is the season we celebrate Christmas. The shopping has begun. The countdown of days left to make purchases is underway. Jewelry commercials are dominating the airways. People are passing by the Salvation Army bell ringers as they go in and out of the mall looking for just the right gift. It’s Christmas!

This is the time of year when we decorate with lights, greenery, and all the symbols of the season. We sing carols. We greet the people we pass with tidings of good cheer, “Merry Christmas!” We rejoice in the most wonderful time of the year, the happiest season of all. It’s Christmas!

This is also the time of shadows, deep and dark shadows. The sun is becoming increasingly short-lived in our sky. When the storm clouds come, one wintry front on top of another, we wonder if it is ever going to shine again. It is the season of the year when light is scarce and shadows and darkness reign. It is a time when depression intensifies and suicide grows in popularity. It’s Christmas?

Shadows. We recognize their presence. We have come face to face with shadows throughout this very week, haven’t we?

A hunter’s tree stand becomes a site of controversy, and suddenly shots ring out, and six people lay dead; all over a tree stand. Or an angry motorist reacts not with his horn but his handgun, and a poor driving decision results in a tragic death. Shadows.

A war-torn land; a number of people die in the fighting. But they aren’t numbers just to be reported on the evening news. They are people, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, fathers and mothers. The bullets flew. The bomb exploded. In one awful instant, there lives were snuffed out. Shadows, deep shadows.

A husband and wife whisper, “I love you, and good-bye,” to one another as the husband lies dying and the wife dreads his departure. Shadows, shadows laden with sorrow.

A corporation doesn’t know if it can stay financially solvent, unless it takes drastic action. So the lay-off notices go out. Thousands of jobs lost. An entire community devastated. Families struggle to survive. Financial pressures mount; bills to pay, food to put on the table. Then Christmas is around the corner, and we have to find the money to do something for the kids. Someone commits suicide. Shadows, heavy, hard shadows.

Oh, but there’s more:

Disputed elections disrupt the latest attempt at democracy.

Riots disturb the tranquility of a major city and an innocent bystander is killed in the violence.

Another youth is murdered in a drive-by shooting.

A wife was battered and abused last night.

A husband came home from work on Friday to find his wife gone, and the prospect of how to raise his children alone staring him in the face.

Shadows, gathering shadows.

Then there are the multitudes caught up in a lifestyle of living in dependency upon the latest pill they can swallow, or the alcohol they can consume, or pictures they can lust over, or the pain they can cut into their dulled senses. Anything to create a buzz, to give relief, so they can make it through to the next day. Shadows, oppressive shadows.
Jesus prepares His disciples for such shadows. As you read the 13th chapter of the Gospel of Mark, it begins with the disciples and Jesus walking out of the temple. The disciples comment on the magnificence of the temple. Jesus turns to them and says there is coming a day when “Not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down” (v. 2).

The disciples and Jesus then journey up to the Mount of Olives, and a small group of disciples—Peter, James, John, and Andrew—gather near to Jesus and say, “Tell us, when will these things happen?” (v. 4). So Jesus tells them. He tells them about nation rising up against nation, and kingdom against kingdom (v. 8). He tells them about earthquakes, famines (v. 8) and disasters, disasters like hurricanes that rip people’s lives apart. He cautions them about deception and falsity (vv. 6, 21-22). He warns of betrayal (vv. 12-13) and persecution (vv. 9-11). He informs them of a coming desecration of holy things, a time of sacrilege (v. 14).

“There is horror on the horizon,” Jesus warns. The horror is such that if someone is on the housetop, they shouldn’t try to come down; or if they are in the field, they shouldn’t try to go back for their cloak (vv. 15-16). Instead they should flee; the horror is going to be that awful.

What is Jesus’ purpose in this litany of horrors? Does He like seeing the shock, fear, and dread on His disciples’ faces? Is He offering interpretive clues so His disciples might be able to read the times and establish a timetable for His return and the end of all things? Or is Jesus preparing His disciples, trying to help them understand that life in this broken world is going to be difficult? Does Jesus want them to see that life in this world will be lived in deep shadows, as if the sun was darkened, and the moon turned to blood and failed to give its light, and the stars fell from the sky? (vv. 24-25). Does He want them to understand that shadowy darkness will characterize the end of this current age?

Because Bible prophecy teachers often dominate biblical interpretation in America’s popular religious culture, we tend to assume that Jesus’ purpose has something to do with a timetable for His return; or that Jesus wants to terrify His disciples into loyalty and obedience during His absence—the “Thief in the Night” effect. The significance of Mark 13 tends to end there for us. We recognize the darkness and wonder how long we will have to endure it. When will Christ return? Can we figure out how bad it is really going to get? Will we have to suffer, or will Jesus' rapture the faithful out of this horror? Sometimes we even fear the future and dread the second coming of Christ, because we dread the events that surround His coming. Is that really what Jesus is trying to accomplish in this extended teaching discourse in Mark’s gospel?

It is undeniable that Jesus is preparing His disciples for the death throes of the end of this age, warning them so they are not caught unaware. But is something more going on here? Does the good Shepherd have a pastoral message upon which He wants His sheep to chew? There is a lesson to be learned about a time out there in the future, when Jesus will come again. That is true. But the lesson to be learned about that climactic moment has significance for the present. It significance lies not just in getting our attention now before it too late, but in offering us a picture of hope. In the midst of deep shadows Jesus comes to us.

Jesus says, “In those days, following that distress, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.” Jesus points to shadows, deep shadows.

Then He speaks of a reality greater than the shadows, a reality that chases the shadows with glory. This is good stuff! “At that time men will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory. And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens” (vv. 26-27).

The reality of Jesus’ coming is greater than the reality of shadows. Jesus’ coming dispels the shadows with the glory of God. Here is what we must catch. Jesus shares this with His disciples because that is not only a truth for the end of time, but it is a truth for the end times in which we live. Yes, there are shadows; but there is also one coming to us who is greater than the shadows.

Listen brother and sister, there is a greater reality than the shadows. It is the reality of a Savior who comes to us, who came to us as a babe in a manger in Bethlehem, who comes to us in the midst of our struggles day after day in the presence of the Holy Spirit, and who is coming again. No matter how deep the shadows get, no matter how dark it may seem—the sun may be blotted out, the moon may no longer shine, all the stars may fall, there may be no light—but no matter how bad it gets there is a greater reality than the shadows. It is the reality of a coming Savior.

It is with that in mind that Jesus continues to speak to His disciples. I don’t believe He wants only Andrew, Peter, James, and John to hear this message. I believe Jesus wants all His disciples throughout the ages of time to hear it. There are going to be many times when we walk through shadows—intense, dark shadows—but we have another reality in which we find hope. It is the reality of Christ coming to us and making all things new, the Christ who has come, is coming, and will come again.

When we are traveling over life’s troubled seas, we have hope because there is one who has come, is coming even now, and will come again, one who can speak over the troubled waters and bring peace and calmness.

When we are struggling and feel captive to things we can’t escape, we have hope because we understand there is one who has come, is coming, and will come again, one who sets the prisoners free.

When we feel like we are dominated by disease and sickness, we have hope because we know there is one who has come, is coming, and will come again; one who is the divine healer who makes us whole; one who calls himself the resurrection and the life.

When we are torn and broken by sin, can’t escape our guilt, and feel the sting of shame, when the past dominates us, we have hope because there is one who has come, is coming, and will come again; one who forgives us, redeems us, and offers us salvation; one who rescues us from whatever we need to be rescued.

Jesus wants us to understand this truth as a truth that applies to the end time and to all of time: the Son of Man will come. In the midst of everything going wrong, the Son of Man has come, is coming, and will come again.

The coming of Jesus to our lives isn’t a wishy-washy hope. There is surety here. That is the point of the fig tree. When we look at the fig tree and see the sprouting leaves and buds on the tree, we know winter is over. Spring has come. Summer is coming. We don’t question whether it will happen. We have confidence summer is near. In a similar way, we can look at what’s taking place in our world—take note of the gathering shadows—and know the Son of Man has come, is coming, and will come again. The shadows don’t spark fear. They nurture confidence for we know Jesus is near, even right at the door.

Jesus then says, “I tell you the truth, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things happen. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.” Does this mean Jesus is predicting the current generation of disciples—Andrew, James, John, Peter—would not die, until Jesus’ second coming? Is this an incidence of Jesus misspeaking? Is this a timetable reference Jesus got wrong? Or is Jesus still stirring confidence in the truth that He comes to us in the midst of shadows and overcomes them with the reality of His coming?

Could it be Jesus is telling His disciples His victorious coming is certain? It is not hanging in the air as a mere possibility. It is not a maybe out there in the future. Time may pass, but it doesn’t matter, for what Jesus is proclaiming is already reaching fulfillment. The first disciples experienced that fulfillment, and 2,000 years of human history cannot deny its impact. Today more than ever, Jesus’ words in this passage hold true; He has come, is coming, and will come again; and His coming is a greater reality than the shadows.

The sun may stop shining. You and I depend on the sun every day, don’t we? The minute the sun stops shining life on this planet ceases to exist. Thankfully, the sun’s shining is a certain reality. Jesus’ coming to us is even more so.

The moon and stars may fall from the sky. You and I depend on the moon being there. Our whole world would become mess if the moon’s gravitational influence on the earth disappeared. Thankfully the moon is a constant. So is Jesus’ coming.

Everything about nature we depend upon—the right mixture of the air we breathe, the ozone and its necessary protection, the tilt of earth’s axis—everything we depend on may cease to be certain. Yet there is this one thing on which we can stake our beings with absolute certainty: Jesus has come, is coming, and will come again. Heaven and earth may pass away. This reality will never pass away.

Pastor, are you sure you are reading this text correctly? This really seems like a piece of end-time prophecy, designed to give us signs of the time, so we may be prepared for Jesus to come. Are you sure this isn’t timetable material?

I am sure it isn’t timetable material, because verse 32 says there isn’t a knowable timetable. “No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” Jesus isn’t giving us a timetable to figure out. He is giving us good news by which to live in the end times.

Do we miss the good news in our bogged-down timetable calculations? Jesus wants us to understand as His disciples that He is coming, and that His coming is certain, the most certain thing in heaven and on earth. We can hope in His coming. We can rely on His coming. We can be confident in a greater reality than our world filled with shadows and live toward His coming.

This certitude is not based on whether the temple in Jerusalem is ever rebuilt, or whether Armageddon ever happens. Thank the Lord, it isn’t based on Russia threatening to dominate the world and initiate the final battle. We would then have to question the certainty of Jesus’ coming, or have to settle down for a long wait. Jesus’ certitude is based not in circumstance, but in an understanding of the nature of God as one who is always coming to us. The Lord has come, is coming, and will come again. When? Now, this afternoon, this evening, tomorrow, next week, next year, or next century? Yes! He is coming, and someday soon will culminate His continual coming to us in the midst of our darkness with His final, forever arrival.

So we don’t know the hour, for it is every hour. But Jesus tells us the attitude we are to have as we live in the shadows split apart by the coming of Christ. We are to watch, be on guard, and be alert (vv. 33, 37).

Our Bible Prophecy mentality as Americans has developed this attitude about what “watching” means. Watching is an important thing to do, because when Jesus comes, we don’t want God to sneak up on us and get us! Isn’t that our attitude?

There is a place for that attitude, don’t misunderstand me. Watching means we have not forgotten the one who has come, is coming, and will come again has given us a task. To be found sleeping at the post of our calling given by this Master would be tragic.

But we don’t maintain that post by careful religious observance. The crossing of all our religious “T’s” and the dotting of all our religious “I’s” is not what the Master is looking for upon His return. The parable about servants left in charge of the household and left to watch the door for the master to come indicates that to watch is not to be found asleep at the post of service when the master comes. It implies an attitude of obedience, of commitment to the will of the Master. Jesus has come, is coming, and will come again, and we watch in hope and confidence for all the ways He invades our lives by giving ourselves in obedience and stewardship to the task of a servant in His household.
Is it a watch of fear, this waiting for Jesus to come? We often interpret Jesus’ “be on guard” in those of terms. Should we? Or is it watching like that of children waiting for their parents to come home? There is no doubt Mom and Dad are coming home. Their return is inevitable. Children take responsibility for their behavior in light of their parents coming. They know the fear of someone saying, “Just you wait, till your Mom and Dad get home!” They watch with made beds and clean rooms. They watch with good behavior and cooperation.

They also watch anxious to be embraced by the love of their coming parents. It may have been a few hours or a few days, but pretty soon Mom and Dad are going to walk in the door! The children can hardly wait. They sit by the window. They stare out the glass door. They watch and wait for the car to come down the road and turn into the driveway. When it does, do you think they’re going to stand at the door? No way! They burst through the door, running and shouting, “Daddy, Daddy! Mommy, Mommy! You have come! You’re home! We are so glad you are here!” Then they throw themselves into their parents’ arms.

There is an attitude of joy found in the child’s watching for the coming parent. The same attitude is a part of this passage. For the Lord’s coming isn’t meant to be dread, but a declaration of good news. The everlasting light has come, is coming, and will come again; and wherever He is present the shadows lose their power, and the darkness is dispelled.

Now I don’t know this morning how this message catches you, what you might be thinking or feeling as you hear it. I have a suspicion, however. When Christmas comes, many rejoice, but many also dread. We dread because the shadows have been very dark and deep, and the finery of Christmas only seems to compound the problem.

Christmas, however, is not about lights and greenery, eggnog and apple cider, chestnuts roasting by the open fire, or Jack Frost nipping at your nose. The commercialism of Christmas focuses on those decorations. Christmas is about a God who comes to us, like He came to a group of shepherds living under the oppression of Roman rule on a hillside in Bethlehem. In the midst of their shadows, the angels declared peace and favor and good news of salvation. That’s what Christmas is all about.

Don’t you believe it would break the heart of God if today we find ourselves in the deep shadows of life and lose our hope? The very reason Jesus comes as a babe in Bethlehem, the very reason He comes in the Holy Spirit to us day after day after day, the very reason He comes again to make all things new is so the shadows do not dominate our lives, but we might live in hope in the midst of the shadows.

The Christmas season is a time to live like children, up on our tippy toes, looking out the window of life, aware of the shadows, but certain that Jesus is coming. We are excited because He is coming, and He loves us, and He is for us, and He is bigger than what is the matter, and He is the greater reality in life, not our shadows. His coming dispels shadows, picks up broken pieces, and makes things new. We watch with anticipation. We watch because our hope is in Him, and we know He won’t disappoint.

We watch knowing all our responsibilities are taken care of in anticipation of His coming. We watch obeying and serving, stewarding and honoring. We watch excited and ready to burst out the door. We watch up on tippy toes looking out the window of the future. Jesus has come, is coming, and will come again. We know that reality to be true. We may not always recognize Him or understand His coming, but we know it to be promised and true. So we wait and we watch and we invest our hope in Him!

When we light the candles of the Advent season, we take seriously the message of Mark 13, and we anticipate, watching and waiting, waiting and watching. We anticipate His coming in hope. This is the significance of Advent and Christmas. This is why it is the happiest time of the year. Jesus is coming. He has come, is coming, and will come again. And in His coming, may hope be reborn in us today.

There is a message of good news in the shadows. Jesus speaks it. Does anyone need to hear it? Does anyone need to respond and move from the seat of despair to the window of anticipation? What I say to you, I say to everyone: “Watch!”