Faith That Leads Home

0:00Good morning again. Go ahead and turn to the book of Hebrews, if you would. The uh the liturgies that we read each week with respect to the Bible readings is not something that I choose randomly. There is a specific order that I follow that was made not by me. It's a liturgical order of scripture reading that includes a psalm and a New Testament reading. And I did see that it was from Hebrews this morning, Hebrews chapter 12, but I didn't go through and read it specifically, realizing how much it related to our text this morning. And I got overcome with a little bit of emotion there reading our New Testament reading this morning, specifically, that we have come to Mount Zion, and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to the innumerable angels and festal gathering, and to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God, the judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect in Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks of a better word than the blood of Abel. There can be no better summary of our text this morning, and of the theme and the message this morning. So in God's providence, he is truly orchestrating all things for us. As we turn our attention then to Hebrews 11, I want to do a little word association as we start to get your attention and get your mind then fully focused on where we're going. And I'm going to give you a word and I want you to think about how what you what do you think about when you hear this word? How does it make you feel? That word is home. Home. What do you think about when you hear the word home? How do you feel? When you hear the word home. Perhaps one of the more powerful words in the English language. Inevitably, or hopefully, it conjures up feelings and thoughts of comfort. Thoughts of peace. Lots of rest. Thoughts of belonging, of safety. Perhaps, though, in that word home for you is mixed a bit of sadness. A bit of regret. Maybe some trouble, maybe some longing, even. This is the reality of the present way that we feel about home. And it connects to what we kind of ended last week with was the reality of the already and the not yet. The good of that word home and then the feelings and the thoughts that it brings to us are these glimpses into glory. This foretaste and foreshadowing of home for us. The bad or the troubling aspects of that is the reminder that home is something that we haven't fully arrived at yet. Not fully. Home is a place we are still walking towards. And true faith then recognizes that home is ultimately where God is. That is home. And our longing. That pull in our hearts, that attraction to home, points us to those precious eternal promises given to us in Christ. So that we can say we are going home. We are on the way home. So our title for uh and the main theme for this morning is Faith that leads home. Faith that leads home. And to that end, our points are confession of exile. We must confess that we are presently in exile. Secondly, we long for home. We long for home. And finally, we confess who the God of our home is. So that's where we're headed with Hebrews 11. Stand with me then once more. Let's read Hebrews 11, starting in verse 13. These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had an opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city. This is the word of the Lord. Lord, we thank you for your word. May now you speak for Christ's sake. It is in his name that I pray. Amen. I was talking to Mateo after the service last week about Civil Air Patrol, and specifically the topic of the Civil Air Patrol encampment came up. Now they do them twice a year. When I was in Civil Air Patrol, maybe it was twice a year, but ours was during the summer. And a Civil Air Patrol encampment was a grueling weekend of hiking and seeking and hunting people in the woods. We had uh night watches. We had to stay up all night and protect the tent. Uh for me, it was uh raining that weekend, so it was setting up a tent and uh in the rain. Uh sleeping alone in the rain. I was all alone uh in a tent for a weekend at I was probably I don't know, maybe 12. Um I'm thankful for that experience. It was uh an interesting one and a learning one for sure. But I wanted to be home, didn't I? I wanted to change exchange my uh cold air mattress for a warm bed. That tiny little sheet I had for my nice comfy comforter at home, my soft pillow, right? I wanted to exchange over that weekend the the loneliness I had for the comfort of home. Psalm eighty-four. How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord. O Lord of hosts. My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the Lord. My heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God. We long for home. But in that longing for home, as our text gives us, we confess that we are in exile. We are on pilgrimage, we are wandering, as it were. Verse 13 says, These all died in faith, not having received the things promised. These all died. And these there meaning probably, likely Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is the immediate context reference there because they, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, are given specifically by name in the verses preceding that. But these all could mean all the prophets of old. They all died in faith, not having received the promise, the promises that were made specifically through Abraham. They did not get in this life the home that they were promised. As we mentioned last week, Abraham didn't get a foot's length of home. Isaac never possessed the promised land. Jacob fled from Esau, ended up in Egypt, never having possessed the land. It doesn't mean they were hopeless of the promise of home. Text tells us the contrary. They saw the promise, they greeted it gladly from afar. The NKJV, the New King James Version, says in that text, I like it, the translation better, they said they were assured of the promise far off and embraced it. Those who did not receive the promise in their life saw it, greeted it from afar, and they embraced it, even though they did not possess it. They confessed, as our text says, that they were strangers presently. They were exiles. Again, the New King James says they were pilgrims. They confessed. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the other patriarchs confessed that they were pilgrims on this earth, strangers, exiles. And they knew that though they were presently stuck on an air mattress in the rain, home was waiting for them. They saw it from afar off. They greeted it, they longed for it, they embraced the promise of home. For them, they saw the warm bed made ready. But yet was not fulfilled presently for them. And this same idea was not just for the patriarchs, it is fully supported into the New Testament. 1 Peter 2, 11. Beloved, I urge you as sojourners, exiles. Philippians 3, verse 20, I believe I mentioned this one last week, but our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. Even the words of Christ Himself from Matthew 8, verse 20, foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head. This is our Lord. This side of glory then is exile, pilgrimage, sojourning. Perhaps then following Christ means an unexpected journey back home. Following Christ, then, if Christ as our model, going home is a journey, a pilgrimage. So I ask then, is this present world enough for you? Are you satisfied with the world? When people consider your life, do they think and know that you are chasing the present world? That you are caught up in the present world. Is the world enough? Are you satisfied with the world? Or do people hear your confession that you are on pilgrimage seeking a better homeland? Do people hear your confession that you are going home? Truly. And that is a confession of exile. Verse 14 and 15 from our text. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land from which they had gone out, they would have had an opportunity to return. This is the longing for home. The longing for home. And in those two verses, there's two things I want us to consider. We're going to look at the negative of those things first. And providentially, Brother Gerardo, and even in 1 Samuel, we saw this very clear. That is the longing to look back. When we consider this longing for home, we have to contrast that against our sinful longing to look back. The worst thing that can ever be said of a Christian is that they returned again to what they left behind. And that they even desired to return again to what they left behind. Consider Israel, wanting to go back to Egypt. Numbers 11, four to six, they said this. Now the rabble that was among them had a strong craving. And the people of Israel also wept again and said, Oh, that we had meat to eat. Remember the fish we ate in Egypt that cost nothing. The cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic. But now our strength is dried up, and there is nothing at all but this manna to look at. They forgot about their deliverance. They forgot about the faithfulness of their God. They wanted comfort. They wanted all the foods to eat. They wanted excess. They would rather have had slavery than be delivered by their God. They looked back. Israel was, I'll say it was a common theme for them to look back. Not forward in promise. Consider also then Lot's wife, leaving Sodom. What happened to her? She looked back. When they were fleeing Sodom, when Lot was they were coming out of Sodom, she looked back against the warning from God, and she turned to salt. She was judged by looking back. Seems a little harsh, doesn't it? I mean, she just turned around. Turned a stone, or salt, just because you turned around and looked backwards? Harsh. It wasn't her eyes looking back, though. Or perhaps her eyes looking back was a reflection of the reality that her heart looking back. Her heart turned with her eyes. She longed to go back. She still wanted that life in Sodom. Life of sin. The life that she had been called out of. She longed to return. Unsure of what was ahead, perhaps. Comfortable in her previous life, she wanted to go back. She was judged. May our prayer be then. Or don't let me go back. Don't let me turn back with my eyes or with my heart. I don't want to go back. Because the end of looking back is not only Lot's wife, but another example, the New Testament example is Demos. I know we mentioned him at least a few times. 2 Timothy 4, verse 10, is where Paul mentions Demos and he says, this, for Demos in love with this present world, has deserted me and gone to Thessalonica. As our text tells us this morning in verse 15. If they had been thinking of the land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. Demos. Heart still set on the world, his eyes still looking back to the world, took his opportunity to go back. Demos looked back because his heart was looking back to the world and he went back. He deserted the Lord. He deserted Paul. He deserted his ministry. Hearts that look back will seize opportunities to go back. So again, I say, may it be our prayer, Lord, don't let me go back. Don't let me look back. The positive then is that those who confess that they are on pilgrimage, those who confess that we are presently exiles and we are going somewhere, not looking back, but going somewhere, we declare that we are seeking a better home. Seeking a better home. Verse 14, for people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. Well, what is the thus that they are speaking? The thus is that they are exiles. They are sojourners, they are pilgrims going home. And when we confess that way, when we speak thus, as our text says, that we are an exile going somewhere, we make it clear that we are seeking a homeland. We are seeking home. Christ puts this into context for us. John fourteen, verse one. Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go and prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself. That where I am, you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going. Of which Thomas, as Thomas does, says, Lord, we don't know where you're going. We know where he is going, he is going home. And he has prepared a place for us there. And so we don't look back. We long for home. Because home is where Christ is. Home is where Christ is. And I don't take credit for this. I I can't cite it because I don't know who specifically said it. Sounds kind of like Piper to me, but we are restless until we rest in Christ. Home is where Christ is. And if you are restless, we will be restless. Because we are exiles, we are sojourners, and we will only be rested when we rest in Christ. We can have four tastes of that now. But ultimately it is for us in glory. Finally, verse 16. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city. Finally, the God of our home. The indicative given there, or the declarative statement given to us in the second half of verse 16, is that God is not ashamed to be called your God. What do we do with that? The God of the universe, the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, is not ashamed to be called your God. A blessing. But why? Why is God not ashamed to be called our God? Because by faith we look to him as our home, not this present world. We find our peace in him, not in this world. We find our rest in him. We find our provision in him. We find our joy in him. Find our supply. We find our breath in him. And unashamedly and boldly we declare that the triune God of Abraham, he is our home. And our home is with God. That is home. The great reward, then, of faith. Not just a place. We're not just going to heaven or to the new earth. The great reward of faith is not just a place, though it is. The great reward of faith is God Himself. We could say then that the great reward of faith is not just the beautiful garden of paradise that we get to once again walk in, but that Christ will be walking with us again. As he once was. Revelation 21. Verse 2, and I saw a holy city, a new Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard with a loud voice from the throne saying, Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them. And they will be his people. And God himself will be with them as their God. This glorious city, this new home, the new Jerusalem, the new earth, paradise, whatever you want to call it, would be nothing if God wasn't there with us. Again, it's home. Because God is there. Christ will be there with us. This city has been built. The places have been prepared. Every spiritual step we take is purposed then to make it to that city, to that end, to that home. Oh, church, we are to live now in such a way that declares that glory is our home. Christ is our home. I'm not looking back. Longing for what I left behind. Not looking back, longing for all the things that I don't have anymore. Not looking back, all the things that I lost, or even the mistakes that we made. We move forward. Glory. What Christ is. I'll conclude with a couple stories very quickly. And I'll say this. This is my conclusion. The patriarchs, those before us, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, as our text says, they lived as pilgrims, exiles, because they looked beyond this world to God's promise. They confessed that they were strangers, they desired a better country, and they received the reward of God Himself. Practically, how does that look? I'll give you two stories. Commentary I read didn't give who this was, but just mentioned that a famous preacher expressed this attitude that we were talking about of being on exile and longing for home, and a letter that he wrote to his friend announcing the death of his wife. He said, This I have some of the best news to impart. One beloved by you has accomplished her warfare, has received an answer to her prayers, and everlasting joy rests upon her head. My dear wife, the source of my best earthly comfort for twenty years, departed on Tuesday. And that's not some morbid cold take on life that's dismissive of life and flippant about it. Could be viewed that way. But we know better. This is actual joy. Deep and abiding joy in the reality that home and peace is where Christ is. So then deep down, mingled in that sorrow is the ever-present major chord. Home with Christ is where we are going. One more example then. In 1899, two prominent men of 1899 died that year. The first of those men was a guy named Colonel Robert Ingersoll. I don't know if you know this guy. I didn't know whom he was. I had to look him up. He was a professor at Harvard University, a devout atheist, an outspoken one, and spent his life in incredible intellect devoted to refuting Christianity. He died suddenly in 1899, leaving his unprepared family devastated. So grief-stricken was his wife that she would not allow his body to be taken from their home until their health was in jeopardy and they had to take him. His remains were cremated, and his funeral service was such a scene of dismay and despair that even the newspaper of the day commented on how despairing his funeral was. Death came to that man, and there was no hope for him. But only irredeemable tragedy. He had been declining in his health for some time. His family had gathered around his bed, and on his last morning, his son heard him exclaim: Earth is receding. Heaven is opening. God is calling. His son said, You're dreaming, father. Modi replied, No, this is no dream. I have been within the gates. Moody seemed to revive a bit, but then it started to slip away again, and he said, This, is this death? This is not bad. There is no valley. This is bliss. This is glorious. His daughter had come to his bedside, and she began to pray for him to recover, and he said to her, No, Emma, don't pray for that. God is calling. This is my coronation day. I have been looking forward to it. One sees this life as the end. And death as the final word. The other sees this life as a journey. Death is only the beginning. What Abraham saw then from a distance. We see clearly in Christ. Christ is our homeland. Christ is our city. That is why our joy is complete even now. Because we're going home. To God. If you've been to Hobby Lobby anytime recently, I'm sure you've seen on a wooden placard. Home is where the heart is. Because he is our home. So for the unbeliever, then, I know we're not unbelievers here, but for the unbeliever amongst us, they are searching for a home, aren't they? They're searching for a home, but nothing in this world will satisfy us because this is not our home. Our call then for them is to come to Christ to come home, and that alone can give us a place that lasts forever, can give us peace that lasts forever, can give us rest that lasts forever. And for us then, as we close, to fix our gaze on Christ. Walk as a pilgrim until faith becomes sight. That's the essence of meditation, again, that we've been talking about so much on Wednesday nights, fixing all of our thoughts, all of our attentions, all of our actions, all of our ambitions upon the glory of God until faith is no longer required. When I got home from that civil air patrol encampment, I didn't long to be home anymore. Because I was home. There is a day for us then, Christians, when our longing will be over. Faith won't be required anymore because we will see him. We will know him. We will be home forever. So may God give us faith then that leads us all to Christ. Amen. Lord, we pray and ask, Lord, that you would give us supply, comfort, strength, encouragement, Lord, in our pilgrimage. We confess that we are exiles, Lord, that we are truly citizens of your glorious home in heaven with Christ. And that we are walking there, Lord. It is only by your strength that we will make it. But we long for home. We long for you. We long to be in your presence, Lord. Be in your glory. Father, give us strength to go home. Give us faith to lead us home. Help us not to look back. Help us to not see the world that we left behind. Help our hearts, our hearts to be focused on you. Focused on Christ. It's in his name that we pray. Amen.