As most churches usually do, we begin our Sunday school class every week with a time for sharing prayer requests. And just personally, I am so glad that we do this. I have actually heard pastors criticize this practice, complaining that the requests are always the same, i.e. praying for someone’s illness or medical condition. The complaint, as it usually goes, has to do with the perceived depth of these requests, as if they are not important enough, not spiritual enough, to occupy our time and concern. What a shame! Sharing burdens with one another, no matter how trivial they may seem, is the beauty and the power of the body of Christ. But I digress; we will save that topic for another time. Over the last several weeks, I have been amazed to see and hear how many of the prayer requests that have been shared that have to do with COVID. Every week there is someone else who has been diagnosed with COVID. Every week there is someone else who has been hospitalized due to COVID. Every week there is someone else who has passed away from COVID.

Every time I hear one of these requests, along with the many others that are shared, I find myself taken by a twinge of grief. There is a sadness that is appropriate to the suffering of those that we love, and we must allow ourselves to feel it. The Scriptures encourage us to “rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep,” to “carry one another’s burdens; in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” (Romans 12.15, Galatians 6.2) However, we must not allow ourselves to be overtaken by this grief, whether it be that of others or even our own. When we allow our pain to become all-consuming, we fall quickly into feelings of depression, despair, and hopelessness. As Christians we must remember that we do “not grieve like the rest, who have no hope.” (1 Thessalonians 4.13) Grief, sadness, heartache; these are not the end of our story. “For our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory.” (2 Corinthians 4.17)

This is the point, namely that what we are waiting for so far outshines our present difficulties as to almost make them seem trivial by comparison. They are not trivial, of course; we feel them acutely. But we know that when our Lord returns, all of our griefs, all of our groanings, will prove to have been worth it. “We wait for the blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.” (Titus 2.13) What I am trying to say is that this vibrant hope, this anxious expectation, should characterize the disciples of Jesus; it should stand at the very foundation of our faith. We should all be anticipating and desiring that day when our Lord Jesus will return to establish His Kingdom on this earth once and for all, when He will do away with sin and sickness and death, and when He will welcome us into His glorious presence to remain for all eternity. However, for many Christians, it would seem, this glorious hope is the farthest thing from their minds, and their lives sadly reflect the want of it.

For the most part, our eschatological reflection in the church is either entirely absent or hopelessly mired in frivolous speculation about secondary and tertiary details that result in even more confusion. This is not to say that questions regarding the rapture or the millennium are unimportant, but it is to say that having the right answers to these questions is not the basis of our hope. Our hope is grounded in the promise of our Lord Jesus Christ, who said, “If I go away and prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you to myself, so that where I am you may be also.” (John 14.3) This promise is the sure and firm foundation for our hope, especially when we are facing times of difficulty, sadness, and grief. And so, “Let us hold on to the confession of our hope without wavering, since he who promised is faithful.” (Hebrews 10.23.)

Throughout its history and even today, the body of Christ is beautifully and abundantly diverse, but one of the things that has united all Christians at all times and in all places is our vibrant hope that looks expectantly forward to the return of our Lord Jesus Christ. We are called to be a people who “love His appearing.” (c.f. 2 Timothy 4.8) And when the darkness of grief threatens to choke out every flicker of joy, on those days we must redouble our conviction, we must fan the flame of our expectation, we must set our gaze once again upon that day when “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, [when] Death will be no more; grief, crying, and pain will be no more.” This is our blessed hope, and in it we find the strength to persevere, to endure every circumstance. Our waiting, our groaning, is not in vain. “He who testifies about these things says, “Yes, I am coming soon.” [And we say], Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22.20)