Luke Knight

Living Waters Church | December 21, 2025
Arrivals: John 1:1-5

Watch or listen to this sermon here

We Can Only Hope

When I first moved out, I had a roommate, and I mean that very literally. Not having much in the bank and worried about managing our living expenses, we found the cheapest rental available and moved into a one-bedroom basement suite. We put two single beds into that one bedroom and didn’t mind one bit. We were officially grown-ups and took managing our new home seriously. That first Christmas, for example, we decided we needed a tree, and so we climbed into my roommate’s rusty old Volkswagen Golf and drove to a farm. You can imagine the kind of car I mean. Manual transmission, no power steering, and if you turned on the heat in December it would eventually warm up by April.

Once at the farm we cut down a tree, anted up the cash in the name of Christmas and hauled it over to the car. It was then we realized that we hadn’t brought any rope to secure the tree to the roof of the Golf and therefore had a problem. Not to worry, we thought, fortunately the old girl had a sunroof. As twilight loomed on that cold, wet, December afternoon, we dragged the tree on top of the car, buckled up, opened the sunroof, and held on. Even though the tree farm was in Langley and our basement suite was in Surrey, we were committed. Hands freezing, gripping onto that soggy, prickly Christmas tree, we did what anyone would in that situation: we hoped.

Hope is a main theme of the Christmas season, both as a kind of sentimental veneer scribbled in glitter on dollar store greeting cards, but also quite practically lived in. No doubt we’re all hoping things work out this week. Hoping the travel plans go smoothly, hoping the turkey turns out, hoping we’ll meet someone like they do in the movies, hoping the family visit won’t give us a migraine. Hope and Christmas seem inevitably intertwined. We can dress the word hope up in tinsel or twinkle lights all we like, but it has stubbornly remained a word caked in human dirt and need. Hope lives in shared calendars, thinning bank accounts, complex relationships, and quiet longings. For some this Christmas hope is a bouncy, shiny word, and for others hope is soberingly serious.

So far in John 1

Let’s come back to the word hope in a few moments, and start with what we’ve been hearing in John’s gospel this December. As first seen in the prologue, we derive from John’s gospel many grand themes which undoubtedly come to the fore at Christmas: light, life, glory, arrivals, receptions, home-making, and abundance to name a few. Matthew and Luke give us their versions of a historical nativity, but John’s wider lens poetically sums up what’s simply hard to describe about Jesus’ arrival, character and purpose.

In our reading we heard a figure described as “the Word”, referring to Jesus. As Kirsten noted earlier, one of the reasons John calls Jesus the Word is a pointing to how Jesus reveals God to the world. The Hebrew Scriptures were full of words that described the Lord God, but Jesus arrived as that living Word. Jesus is the Word for God, or as Jesus puts it later in John’s gospel, “If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the Father.”

We’ve also been learning that In his biography of Jesus, John’s lifting some of the language and patterns we see in the Bible’s first book, Genesis. In Genesis 1 we hear that God spoke creation into being. Simple but crucial to remember in Genesis, and therefor also in John, is that words make things. Part of what we need to understand here in John’s prologue is not only that Jesus was present at creation, but that he was the very means of it. “Through him all things were made”says John, and doubling down, “without him nothing was made that has been made.” Put that together with Jesus’ words to his disciples later in the same gospel and you begin to get the picture, “apart from me you can do nothing”. Jesus isn’t being hyperbolic, exaggerating his capacity, he’s reminding his friends that everything they have and everything they are originates with him alone. Later John will write, “He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him.” Those words are a stark reminder for us also that t is possible not to see Jesus as he truly is, not to recognize him. So, before Christmas draws us to adoration, we must first begin with recognition. It’s important at Christmas to see Jesus as he truly is, never reducing him to the size of a decorative nativity figurine.

As we read John’s prologue our many Christmas traditions around making remind us that it was Jesus made it all. But Christmas isn’t only about making, but re-making. At Christmas, because of Jesus, we remember that God loved the world he made so deeply that in Jesus he rolled up his sleeves to do for his creation what only he could. Jesus’ life, death and life again began creation’s great re-making and renewal. Is it any wonder, then, why John starts where he does with Jesus, as rooted in Genesis? John wants us to see Jesus as the very one who put all life in motion, and who is pulling it through, even now, into renewal.

What’s very clear in the whole of John’s gospel is that what God makes, he loves and what he loves he will re-make, re-new, should his creation trust him. And, by trusting and waiting for the Lord’s great and final renewal of his creation, we might also remember Jesus’ words of promise in the last book of the Bible, Revelation, “Behold, I am making all things new.” (Rev 21)

Which brings us back to our reading and our focus verses today: “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

Hope in Scripture

As we’re hearing, John’s got an incredibly high view of Jesus: on the same footing as the Lord God of Israel’s Scriptures, and the agent or means of creation itself. Today we come to another word John uses to get Jesus’ character and purpose in the world across. “that life, was the light to all mankind” (or all people). John uses a number of literary devices in his writing including dualism. Life and death, light and darkness being the most prominent. Rooted in the ancient Scriptures, John can find no more archetypal language to get the Lord Jesus across to his first listeners. In Jesus’ all life originates and is sustained. And, Jesus is the light illuminating a lost and dark world.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” We often hear these words quoted at Christmas in a hushed and hopeful tone. Amidst the headlines and heartache, they settle on our weary world and into our weary hearts. Something about them stirs us, especially when things look bleak. I’ve heard these words read not only at Christmas but at funerals, which is again fitting, because they are inevitably hopeful words. What about them resonates with us exactly? What makes them hopeful words?

Long before someone embroidered the word hope on a festive throw pillow, the origin of hope as a Christmas theme had its place in Scripture. We might assume we know what we mean by the word hope, depending on trendy definitions or personal circumstances, but it’s always helpful to ask if our ideas about that word, hope, match up with the biblical foundations.

Scholars remind us that in the ancient world, just as now, hoping something would or wouldn’t happen was not exactly the wisest course of action. People with any agency or influence didn’t hope, they ensured outcomes. On the other hand, if you were one of the masses, you might only have “hope” on which to hang – perhaps the hope that those in power over you may have mercy or at the very least not take advantage. Hope was a last resort or the result of low status or poor planning. Powerful or prudent people didn’t hope, they made sure. We can resonate with some of that feeling today. I sure hope we have enough food for everyone at Christmas dinner, we might think to ourselves, while simultaneously aware that hoping alone won’t ensure a solution. If we had the means, we’d probably do something about dinner ourselves, ensuring we didn’t run out of stuffing on Christmas day. Why hope when you can make sure? So, in the ancient world, just as now, if your only course of action was to hope, you’d likely found yourself in a sorry situation.

The trouble, of course, was this way of operating as a human being only applied to so much. Making sure, securing oneself, was the privilege of a lucky few and relied heavily on human capacity, which had its limitations even for the elite. There were things you could control and things you couldn’t, and in that sense, everyone was in the same boat.

It’s the same today. We might be able to tie a few things down around us, but not the bigger stakes of human life. No matter our means, influence or sheer will, every human faces uncertainty, suffering, and the unavoidable problem of death. Try as we might to secure ourselves, to buttress our lives against the winds of chaos, every human lives in a state of stark vulnerability. We can try and convince ourselves we’re secure through strategy, planning, or the cold accumulation of wealth (example: Ebenezer Scrooge), but darkness and death finds us all. Get all the cosmetic surgery you like, invest every penny prudently, eat healthy and exercise daily, we simply can’t stave off the inevitability of our fragility and mortality. So, we might think, what place does the word hope have on our lips, if we can’t do anything about all that? What’s the point of hope beyond naïve wishful thinking?

Jesus and the Word Hope

Enter, Jesus. Because of Jesus, hope the tone in which the word hope was spoken changed. Hope became not a foolish or weak posture to take, or a miserable state in which to find oneself, but, because of Jesus, a state of assurance. The first believer’s put their hope in a crucified, resurrected and ascended living Lord Jesus. Hope was something which filled the first believers with confidence, not based on their luck to wish upon a star, but because of the credibility of Jesus himself.

For example, in his first letter to a small group of the very first Christians, Paul puts hope in a positive, encouraging light. Writing to a community worried about loved ones who had died, Paul says, “Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.” What Paul spells out is that Christian hope is not a silly wish, nor an unwise gamble. Christian hope is solid as a rock, and as bright and clear as the sun. And that is because of who the believers had put their hope in, on whom their hope rested. And if the believers’ hope sat on the shoulders of the very agent of creation, the resurrected Jesus, then they could stare even death in the face, because Jesus’ had bested evil and the grave. In other words, to hope was not to concern oneself with wabbly possibilities. To hope was to trust in the reliability of a person, especially when facing the biggest of life’s questions and problems.

Which brings us back to John’s words today, “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

Part of what John is aiming to get across, as he will expand on through the entire gospel, is that Jesus is not only the presence of the Lord God come to his people with the gift of life in his hands, but a light to all people, all nations. “I am the light of the word”, Jesus will declare later in the gospel. Seen together with other images John gives of Jesus, light is arguably the most straight forward. Those who trust Jesus will not live or walk in hopeless darkness. Jesus is the fulfillment of the prophet Isaiah’s words, “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned” (Isaiah 9.2). You wouldn’t need to convince anyone in the ancient world of the importance of light in daily life. Without light life becomes impossible. And though there were no shortage of pretenders promising illumination or a way forward, no one, no idea, has shone like Jesus. No one shines like him still.

So, part of the very simple message of Christmas, with all this in mind, is that that because of Jesus we don’t have to hope in the dark. We can set our hope in the Lord of all creation, and the light of the world. We have hope, not based on situational bleakness or brightness, but because we have sunk our hope in Jesus alone.

No one questions how dark the world can get. We see the news, we feel the pangs of fear or despair in the late watches of the night, and we wish things were different. Frightening and painful as the darkness can be, we can’t avoid it.

Christmas says, however, that nor should we forget Jesus’ light. He is uncontainable, undefeatable, inextinguishable. In Jesus, God’s light is clear and trustworthily and even now drawing all people to himself. Even as we sit darkness, the light shines, a present light, a resurrected light, and eternal light. Not an element, an idea or an image, but a person. And we can hear Jesus’ words later in John’s gospel with all this in mind: “ I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. ¹⁹ Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live.” (John 14.18,19)

Don’t Get Your Hopes Up

Today is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, the longest night of the year. A day like today has often been set aside to remember the darkness in the world at large, and within in our own hearts. And Christmas itself is often a time where we can feel overcome by darkness for any number of reasons. The loss of a loved one, estrangement from family, the worries around a troubling friendship, the despair of an unwelcomed diagnosis, the general anxiety of an onrushing bleakness and an uncertain future.

It can feel dark, and hope can a feel like a thin or even naïve word to toss into such darkness. But in that world of darkness, in our world, hear John’s words clearly: “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

At Christmas we don’t throw the words like light or hope around glibly. Every candle or twinkle light is a reminder that Jesus threw himself into the darkness, bright as he is, and the darkness didn’t swallow him up. Quite the opposite. And because of Jesus life and light, the darkness won’t swallow us either if we’ve set our trust and hope in him.

Don’t get your hopes up. That’s a phrase we share with others to ensure they manage their expectations, especially when the stakes are high and things look dark. Don’t get your hopes up. That’s a phrase we say quietly to ourselves when guarding against disappointment. Don’t get your hopes up.

But, unapologetically, glaringly, Christmas says the opposite. Christmas tells us that our hopes, have not, in fact, been placed high enough.

Christmas says: Get your hopes up! Get your hopes up! Get your hopes up! Gather up all the hope you’ve got and set it onto the shoulders of this child, who will not be crushed or overwhelmed by the hope of all the world.

Somehow, the child will carry, even exceed the expectations. Pile all your hope into the hands of the bright and beautiful, great and glorious Lord Jesus.

This Christmas, get your hopes up. Lift your hopes up. The light shines in the darkness still.