Homilies
A Hope that Endures
Sermon on Luke 21:5–18 — “Hope That Endures”
Holy Spirit take my words and speak to each of us according to our need.
I wonder how many of us have felt lately that the world is just a bit overwhelming. Everywhere we look, there’s another crisis, another headline, another voice telling us who to trust or what to fear. It’s easy to feel pulled in every direction. We live in a world full of noise — but not always full of hope.
Today’s Gospel reading from Luke sounds, at first, like more bad news: buildings falling, wars breaking out, people claiming to have all the answers. But Jesus isn’t trying to frighten anyone. He’s doing what he always does in helping us to see more deeply, to look beyond what’s crumbling and towards what will last. And that message “Do not be led astray” might be exactly the words we need to hear as we move, in only two weeks time, toward Advent.
Because Advent is the season of waiting. Not the anxious waiting of uncertainty, but the hopeful waiting that trusts in God’s promises and know they will be fulfilled. It’s about learning to live in the tension between what is and what will be, between a world that often feels broken, and a God who promises healing and renewal.
“Do Not Be Led Astray” — What It Means for Us Today
Jesus warns, “Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he,’ and ‘The time is near!’ Do not go after them.” He knows how easy it is, when we’re afraid or uncertain, to cling to anything that promises quick comfort or easy answers. We might not meet people today who claim to be the Messiah, but we do meet plenty of voices saying, “I can fix this for you.”
The world around us is full of false hopes; the promise that success, wealth, or power will give us peace; the idea that being busy or popular will make us feel whole. Advertising works precisely on this principle – without the latest version of whatever product they are marketing, you are somehow less.
But these things can leave us restless and empty. They distract us from what’s real, from what lasts. And Jesus’ words, far from being harsh, are deeply compassionate. He’s saying: “Don’t let your heart be pulled away by fear or illusion. Stay close to what’s true.”
That’s the heart of Advent too, to stay awake, to stay faithful, to wait with trust rather than chase after everything that glitters.
Staying Grounded in What’s Real
You don’t have to be religious to understand this. We all need something steady to hold onto. For Christians, that foundation is Jesus. He is the one who shows us what real love looks like: humble, generous, forgiving, and steadfast. For anyone still exploring faith, it might begin simply with a longing for peace, or a sense that there must be more to life than what we can see.
Sometimes, staying grounded means taking time to be still, even just for a few minutes a day, to breathe, to pray, to notice beauty, to be grateful. Those small acts of quiet attention can help us rediscover the presence of God right where we are.
Advent invites us to make space for that. To pause, to prepare room in our hearts, to listen for the gentle stirrings of hope.
Staying Connected to Others
Jesus also doesn’t call us to wait alone. Faith, like hope, grows best in community. When life feels uncertain, it helps to walk with others; people who remind us what’s good and true, who hold faith for us when we can’t quite find it ourselves. And that’s what the Church is meant to be. Not a gathering of the perfect, but a fellowship of the hopeful; people learning, praying, doubting, serving, and encouraging one another.
And if you’re here this morning and you’re not sure what you believe, if you still have doubts or questions, that’s okay. You don’t have to have it all figured out to belong here. Sometimes just showing up, sitting in this space, hearing the story again, is enough. Advent will soon remind us that God meets us not when we’ve arrived, but when we begin the journey.
Practising Gentle Discernment
Jesus’ warning to “beware” isn’t about fear; it’s about learning to recognise what draws us closer to peace and what doesn’t. To discern simply means to ask: “Is this leading me toward love, or away from it?” The world shouts for our attention, but God’s voice is quieter; patient, kind, inviting.
If something fills us with anxiety or anger, it’s probably not the voice of God. If it stirs compassion, forgiveness, or courage, that’s a good sign that we’re on the right path.
As we move towards Advent, we practise this kind of discernment, tuning our hearts to the music of hope, listening for the notes of joy and peace that still play beneath the noise of the world.
Hope That Endures
Jesus ends this passage with words that sound simple but carry great comfort: “By your endurance you will gain your souls.” Endurance, here, isn’t grim survival. It’s a steady hope. The kind of hope that trusts that even when the world trembles, God’s promise stands. It’s the hope of anticipation, the hope that believes that light is coming, even when the night feels long.
We may not see everything fulfilled in our time here on earth, not all wounds healed, not every wrong made right, but we wait in confidence that God is still at work. In Advent we focus on a hope that doesn’t deny the darkness; it declares that the darkness will not have the last word but we need to hold on to that same hope everyday.
So perhaps Jesus’ words today are a gentle reminder for us all not to be led astray by fear or distraction, but to hold fast to what is real: faith, love, community, and hope.
As we begin the move toward Advent, may we be people who wait not with worry, but with wonder. May we stay awake to God’s presence, even in ordinary things. And may our waiting be full of quiet confidence that the promises of God, once spoken in Bethlehem and fulfilled in Christ, are still unfolding even now, in us, around us and through us. For the God who came among us still comes in the silence, in the kindness of others, and in the hope that refuses to die. And so we wait, and we watch, and we trust because the light is coming.
Amen.