Hope for the sorrowful

Sermon for Midweek of Easter 3

Lamentations 3:18-26

A little while and you will not see Me. And again a little while and you will see Me…You will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice; you will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will be turned into joy. We heard on Sunday how Jesus prophesied to His beloved apostles the sorrow they would experience for a little while, followed by joy that would be far greater than the sorrow ever was and that would, at least eventually, be permanent.

Sorrow is nothing new for mankind. Sorrow is nothing new for the Christian. Since the Fall into Sin in the Garden of Eden, sorrow is part of the divinely pronounced curse on mankind. The final and complete remedy for sorrow will come when the risen Lord Jesus comes again. Until then, sorrow will still exist, and we learn from the words of the prophets and apostles, not how to escape it, but how to deal with it, and how to look beyond it.

Sorrow is something that the prophet Jeremiah knew all too well. He lived at one of the worst times a believer could ever live in, during the years leading up to and including the destruction of Jerusalem. He witnessed the nation of Israel, which, at that time, was synonymous with the Church of God on earth, utterly disintegrate from within—spiritually, politically, morally, and socially, and then he watched it fall to foreign invaders. And all the while he found himself in a very small minority of people who were still faithful to the God of Israel, while practically all his neighbors had turned away, and were tired of hearing his preaching. Even as I describe Jeremiah’s situation, it strikes me how similar it sounds to our situation today, as we live in the dying days of a republic, and, really, of the world.

And so we get into Jeremiah’s book of Lamentations, which includes three separate laments. The first two chapters are the lament of Jerusalem for herself, Jerusalem personified as a woman, as a virgin daughter who is being justly punished for the sins of her children. So Jerusalem’s lament isn’t a complaint. It’s simply a recognition of how badly things have gone for her because of her own sins and transgressions. She recounts all the disgrace and shame and ruin that she has suffered from unfaithful people within and from unbelieving Babylonians without. This is what it looks like to receive just punishment for one’s sins: utter devastation, being on the receiving end of mockery, abuse, and ridicule; homes in ruin; people literally starving in the streets; dead bodies everywhere.

But that was Jerusalem’s lament for herself, because her people, including her kings and priests, had abandoned the Lord God and turned to idolatry and “self-help” solutions, away from God and His Word. Jerusalem’s lament applies especially to those Christians who have actually abandoned the faith, who have become Christians in name only, or to those Christians who are suffering because of their own sins.

As for Jeremiah, his personal lament begins in chapter three, where our verses are taken from. Jeremiah had been a faithful prophet. He had not abandoned the ways of the Lord. He had not followed the people into idolatry or apostasy. And yet he, too, was suffering greatly. He, too, had to live through the fall of a nation, even though he wasn’t to blame for it, and in addition to that, he had to suffer shame and persecution for preaching the truth God sent him to preach. So his words apply especially to those Christians who are suffering, not directly because of their own sins, but because of the sins of others.

That doesn’t mean they’re sinless, or that they don’t deserve to suffer. The only sinless One who ever suffered was the Lord Jesus. No one’s heart is pure by nature. All people have earned eternal condemnation. But not all suffering and sorrow are punishment for sins. When we suffer because of the sins of others, we call it “discipline” or “testing.” And when we suffer for Christ’s sake, we call it “the cross.”

So it’s in that context of a believer in God, a child of God, being sorrowful and having to suffer for the sins of others, that our text begins. Jeremiah writes: And I said, “My strength and my hope Have perished from the LORD.” He said that after recounting, in the first 17 verses of chapter 3, the many ways in which the Lord had caused him to suffer. And, yes, even though it was the fault of the impenitent and unbelieving, it was still the Lord who caused Jeremiah to pass through it rather than rescue him from it. At the end of it, Jeremiah felt like he had no strength left, no hope left from the Lord. He was near despair, which is utter hopelessness. That’s how he felt.

But he also knew that what he felt wasn’t quite true (which is often the case!). If it were true, then there would be no point in going on, and certainly no point in praying. But he does go on to pray: Remember my affliction and roaming, the wormwood and the gall (that is, the bitterness I have had to endure). Remember! It’s not as if the Lord forgot anything. He isn’t capable of forgetting. The cry for the Lord to remember something is a cry for sympathy, a cry for compassion. Because, of all the attributes of the Lord, mercy or compassion is the one that is triggered by us, triggered by our wretchedness, or by our need and our inability to help ourselves in our need. Asking God to remember our neediness or our wretchedness is a way of asking Him to have mercy on us.

My soul still remembers and sinks within me. Jeremiah can’t forget the things he has been through. He remembers, and it still pains him, how the pagan Babylonians had ravaged the capital city of God’s kingdom, how his fellow Israelites laughed at him, rejected the word that God gave him to preach, and then persecuted him and threw him in a pit, and eventually dragged him off to Egypt instead of letting him live in peace under the Babylonians. He doesn’t deny the suffering he’s been through. He remembers, and his soul sinks.

But, again, he knows it’s not the whole story. This I recall to my mind, Therefore I have hope. Through the LORD’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. This is the answer to sorrow. This is the remedy and that which restores hope, to recall to our minds the LORD’s mercies, the Lord’s compassions. Plural. Because it’s not just His attribute of being merciful and compassionate, which He is, but it’s all the many evidences of His mercy and compassion throughout history and throughout our lives. Those mercies are inexhaustible. They’re new every morning. Many of them have been recorded in Holy Scripture. Some of them we have witnessed here together at Emmanuel. And some of them you have individually seen in your own life, how the Lord has shown mercy to you, how He has upheld you in hard times and brought you through them in His faithfulness to His baptismal promise to you, to forgive you your sins, to save you, to be your God, and to work all things together for your good.

“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “Therefore I hope in Him!” My “portion” is hard for us to grasp without understanding what a portion meant to an Old Testament Israelite. An Israelite’s portion was the piece of land in Israel, in the territory of the Promised Land, that each person or each family received as an inheritance. It belonged to no one else, only to that family. It was given to them by God as part of the inheritance He had promised to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, given through Moses and Joshua, for that family to live there forever. They had a claim to it. It was their most treasured possession. It was their heritage that they received and then passed on to the coming generations. Well, here Jeremiah speaks as the Psalmists often speak. He calls the LORD Yahweh His portion, which is like saying his treasure, the thing he treasures more than anything else in the world. He has the LORD as his own God, the God of his past, present, and future, the God who has promised that the sorrow will soon be replaced with everlasting joy. Therefore I will hope in Him!

Therefore you should hope in Him, too, because, in Holy Baptism, the same LORD gave Himself to you as your portion, as your heritage. You can call Him your own, even as He calls you His own beloved child. And if He is your true treasure, and if no one can take Him away from you, then even if you lose everything else, you still have your true treasure. And so you have reason to hope, and to rejoice.

The LORD is good to those who wait for Him, To the soul who seeks Him. It is good that one should hope and wait quietly For the salvation of the LORD. Yes, a part of hope, by definition, is waiting. Waiting for the Lord to do what He has promised to do. Waiting for the sorrow to be turned into joy. Waiting is hard. Waiting quietly is perhaps even harder. But sometimes there’s nothing you can do about a problem, and waiting is all you can do. Well, it turns out that waiting is all you need to do. Waiting, and seeking the LORD while you wait for His help. Seeking Him in His Word and Sacraments. Seeking Him by seeking to walk according to commandments while you wait for His salvation to be revealed. You may have to wait a while, but remember what Jesus said in Sunday’s Gospel. It will only be “a little while.” And then you will see Him. And your heart will rejoice. Amen.