My favorite movie is a musical that is based on the book, Les Miserables. The movie stars Hugh Jackman and Russel Crowe. If you know the story of Les Miserables, it is set in the revolutionary tumult of 19th century France. The story focuses mainly on the struggle between the criminal-turned-saint, Jean Valjean, and the self-righteous lawman, Javert. But, their personal struggles take place with the backdrop of the French Revolution. In Paris, revolution is fomented by college-aged men like Marius, and they end up barricading themselves in the slums in hopes of starting a broader revolution. The reason I love this musical is because it has deep Christian themes. In fact, the themes are so powerful that, even though I’ve watched it more times than I can count, I still cry through the whole movie. One of those Christian themes is the struggle for a righteous kingdom. The revolutionaries are starry-eyed and hopeful that they can effect real change in their government. As they are building their barricades, they sing this song:
Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the song of angry men?
It is the music of the people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!
Not to spoil the story for you, but their revolution doesn’t take hold. The French army obliterates their barricades, and all of the revolutionaries die. But, at the end of the movie, as the main character passes away, there is a new scene in which those revolutionaries who had died are standing on a gigantic barricade, arm in arm, looking out into the rising sun. And in that finale, they sing this:
Do you hear the people sing, Lost in the valley of the night?
It is the music of a people Who are climbing to the light
For the wretched of the earth There is a flame that never dies
Even the darkest night will end And the sun will rise
They will live again in freedom In the garden of the Lord
We will walk behind the ploughshare, We will put away the sword
The chain will be broken, And all men will have their reward
I love this scene because it conveys a deep and abiding truth. Every revolution, whether righteous or misguided, reveals a desire of humanity for a good and righteous kingdom. Even the protests and riots we are witnessing right now on college campuses, though they may be led by spoiled brats seeking to assuage their liberal, white guilt, they are motivated by a belief that something is broken in the world and needs to be righted.
There should be a deep longing for something more, for something better. There should be a recognition that things are not the way they are supposed to be. Children and women are abused and misused. Men are enslaved. Corporations and governments, acting in their self-interest, destroy and degrade. Church leaders abuse their power and lead people astray. Scientists, seeking recognition and fortune, ignore the negating evidence of their studies to push theories and drugs that do more harm than good. We need revolution. We need change. But revolution and change never quite produce the ends we want. In despair, we could turn to nihilism, thinking that everything is meaningless, there is no point in trying, and we might as well accept the world as it is. Or, we could turn to optimism, thinking that the problem is that we just haven’t elected the right leader or passed the right laws. But, there is a third way – the way of faith. To see that way, let’s consider Hebrews 11:8-16. From this passage, I want you to see two points: the hope of faith and the homeland of faith.
First, see the hope of faith. In his Hall of Faith, the writer of Hebrews now turns to the person the NT calls the father of faith, Abraham. Abraham is the root, if you will, of all faith. I grew up singing “Father Abraham” in VBS, and that song speaks of all believers being children of Abraham through faith. The writer of Hebrews gives us three reasons that he is the father of faith. First, in verse 8 we see that Abraham is the father of faith because he obeyed the promise. So far, in our study of the hall of faith, we’ve seen this contrast between the seed of the serpent and the seed of the woman. Abel, by faith, offered an acceptable sacrifice and was persecuted by Cain for it. Enoch walked with God while Lamech lived by his own standards. Noah trusted the Word of God and built an ark while the rest of the world devolved into violence. As I mentioned last week, even after the flood and a new start, sin continued in the world, even in the line of Noah. So, it seems, that no amount of human reform could change things. God told Cain to master sin, and instead, Cain became it. Lamech took God’s promise to Cain and bent it to justify his murder. And even Noah abused alcohol and his son pursued homosexual desires. It seems that sin effected humanity so deeply that they could not be changed. So, beginning in Genesis 12, God begins to do something different. Out of the blue, God appears to a pagan by the name of Abram, who was living with his father in the land of Ur. God came to Abram with a promise – if he would go to a new land, God would bless him with the heritage of a kingdom. With Abram, God doesn’t work through commands or laws, he works through a promise and a covenant. He works through grace. And, Abram received that promise by faith. He obeyed what God told him to do because he believed in the promise.
Second, in verse 9 and 10 we see that Abraham is the father of faith because he occupied a foreign land. The writer points out that Abraham went to Canaan, but he never inherited it. It would be another 600 years before his descendants would conquer the promised land for the nation of Israel, and hundreds of years beyond that before they would organize into any sort of unified kingdom. Yet, Abraham lived there anyway, through famine and war and trial, because he believed the promise of God. But notice, in verse 10, it doesn’t say that he did this knowing that one day his descendants would live here. No, the writer says that he waited for a city that God would build. Imagine that! Abraham didn’t just see the near fulfillment of God’s promise in his children, but a far distant fulfillment in the new heavens and new earth that Jesus will bring on the last day.
Finally, in verse 11-12, we see that Sarah is the mother of faith because she obtained a child in her old age. Now, this verse should give hope to anyone who is weak in faith. Perhaps you are here today, and this past week you have struggled to resist sin. Perhaps you have entertained the lies of Satan, who tells you that you are unworthy of God’s grace. Oh, take heart from the story of Sarah. Notice here that the writer says that Sarah received the power to conceive by faith, having considered God faithful. But, if you read Genesis 18, you’ll find that when God comes to announce this promise to her, she laughs at him. Sarah is no example of powerful, unshakeable faith. She is an example of faith the size of a mustard seed. She is one of little faith. It is not her will or her faith that caused her to conceive, but the God who can do all things. In the same way, it is not the strength of our faith that saves us from our sins, but the person in whom we place that faith, no matter how meager it is.
Now that we understand the hope of faith, consider the second point – the homeland of faith. In verses 13-16, the writer makes a somber point that should inform the way we think of revolution and change in our day. He begins verse 13 with these words: “These all died in faith, not having received the things promised.” Abraham witnessed God’s faithfulness in the birth of Isaac, but he still didn’t see the fullness of God’s promise to give him seed as innumerable as the sands of the shore. Instead, Abraham lived as a stranger and exile. Even though he lived in the land his people would receive, he lived in it as a foreigner. He did so because he knew that this world was not his home. He was waiting on a greater promise – the promise of a new heaven and earth. In this, Abraham serves as an example for us. This world is not our home. We are strangers and exiles, too. The USA is not our home, though we pray for its health. You may own a warranty deed to a beautiful tract of land, but that land is not your inheritance. Your home is the city that God will build. And this should change the way we think about our citizenship and even the things we own. Instead of clinging to our possessions as though they hold some spiritual value, we should be liberal in our willingness to give to others of our wealth. Instead of treating politics as a zero-sum game and a matter of heaven and hell, we should recognize that no leader, no matter how wise or powerful, can ever make this place our home. So, may we follow the example of Abraham, and live by faith as we wait on God to fulfill his promise.
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