Hilton Head Island, SC
The Chapel Without Walls
Romans 8:31-39; Hebrews 11:1-2,32-40
A Sermon by John M. Miller
Text – Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. – Hebrews 11:1 (RSV)
My dictionary gives the following as the first definition for the word opinion: "Belief stronger than impression, less strong than positive knowledge; a belief, view, judgment." Then it says, as a secondary definition, that an opinion is the judgment or sentiment which the mind forms of persons or things. Then it talks about technical meanings, such as the expert medical opinions of doctors, or judicial opinions, as when a judge or court offers a judgment about some legal matter. It seems clear from these definitions, and also from our ordinary usage of the English language, that opinions are always subjective; that is, it is individuals (subjects if you will) who hold them. Facts don't have opinions; only people have opinions. Supposed or actual facts may lead to opinions, but facts are never the same as opinions.
Further, there is something about opinions which automatically makes them less than universally accepted. Thus when anyone says, "Two plus two equals four," that person is not offering an opinion; it is a universally agreed-upon fact. But if someone says, "Donald Trump is the greatest president this nation ever had," such a statement, which is an opinion, is guaranteed to meet with something less than universal acceptance.
Thirty years ago in Waco, Texas, there occurred a great tragedy. A man named David Koresh and nearly a hundred of his followers in a cult called the Branch Davidians all died in a fire that was started by armed representatives of the federal government. The followers believed David Koresh was the Messiah. I do not propose to discuss whether the federal government or the FBI or the attorney general or President acted properly in that tragedy; to enter into all that would serve no purpose here. But suffice it to say as an observation about the events at the Branch Davidian ranch that David Koresh seemed genuinely convinced that he was the Messiah. Further, the others seemed utterly convinced of that as well.
We would all agree that was their opinion. We also all would agree, I presume, that he and they were wrong. David Koresh was not the Messiah; presumably he suffered instead from some form of mental instability, but he was so charismatic that nearly ninety people were willing to die with him in order to show their devotion to him. David Koresh did not know that he was the Messiah, and we do not know that he was not the Messiah. He believed he was; we believe he was not. But either position is a statement of opinion. We would all stand by our opinion, as would all but a handful of the rest of the world's population, but any position any of us takes with respect to the identity and mental health of David Koresh is, by definition, an opinion; it is not a fact.
I believe, and I suppose that most of you believe, that Jesus of Nazareth was and is the Messiah. I believe, and I suppose that most of you believe, in the existence of, the love of, and the grace of God. But it is important to understand that statements such as that are also opinions. They are beliefs which are stronger than mere impressions, but they are not illustrations of positive knowledge, nor can they be.
One of the most beautiful soprano solos in the complete collection of musical literature occurs near the end of Handel's Messiah: "I know that my redeemer liveth." No people with a drop of passion in their veins can ever have heard it without having been moved by it, nor can anyone forget its impact. The fact is that the musical text comes from the book of Job, and the particular verse from which it comes has numerous textual problems, meaning that no scholar can be absolutely certain of exactly what the original verse said. That does not diminish the powerful influence of that soprano recitative one eighth-note. Even if whoever wrote Job never truly wrote, "I know that my redeemer liveth," we know that he lives!
But listen carefully: we don't know that the way we know that two plus two equals four. In fact, we don't know it at all. We believe our Redeemer lives, we have the opinion that it is so, we may even stake our lives on the truth of that statement, but it is not a positive, universally accepted, universally affirmed kind of knowledge. It is a spiritual truth, and spiritual truth, by definition, is a matter of opinion.
In his first letter to Timothy, the apostle Paul wrote, "The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners" (1:15). Untold millions of Christians believe that. But Jews don't believe it. Muslims don't believe it. Neither do Hindus, Buddhists, atheists, agnostics, or many others. Statistically, taking the world's population as a whole, we would have to say that most people do not believe Paul's statement, which is to say, his opinion. And the reason is because any statement of or about faith is by definition an opinion. What Paul said was a statement of faith, and therefore, ipso facto, ergo, it is an opinion. And where opinions of faith are offered, different or opposing opinions are bound to be presented.
You may be wondering -- and I hope you are -- why I would even bother to say this. What is the point of this sermon? If any of us needed to be convinced that faith equates to opinions, and if the parson succeeds in convincing any who may heretofore have been unconvinced, so what? What does it matter whether or not statements of faith by definition are therefore statements of opinion?
I preach on this subject because I think it relates in a fundamental way to the very nature of faith; it speaks to what we want our faith to be, what we expect it to do. Faith does not prove anything; it cannot prove anything. Faith can and does lead us into profound levels of knowledge, but that knowledge is neither objective nor objectively verifiable. If we believe in the grace of God, which we believe has been made manifest to us in the person of Jesus, whom we call the Christ, we do not possess such a belief on the basis of universally accepted truth, because that "truth" is not universally accepted. Our opinion is that it is true, but on this side of the pearly gates, if there are pearly gates to be on this side of, nobody can be absolutely certain of that which we believe is the greatest truth anyone could know. Further, anything that we can be absolutely certain about is, by definition, not a matter of faith. Faith is not about certainty; faith is about faith.
Are you following all this? Is this a cerebral bunch of fun, or what?
Whenever Paul of Tarsus got on a verbal roll, his soaring prose became almost impossible to match, let alone surpass. In the eighth chapter of his letter to the Romans, and especially in the last part of that chapter, he was on such a roll. He was talking about how God has shown His positive inclination toward us through Jesus, and he insisted nothing will ever change that. He concluded by saying, "For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:38-39).
If with Paul anyone else is convinced of that, if you truly and firmly hold fast to that comforting, consoling, and convincing opinion, you will live with an inner peace and you will develop a spiritual foundation which will uphold you through the many obstacles which life inevitably places in your path. But you cannot objectively know you will be sustained; you can only subjectively trust that you will be sustained. And each time a new obstacle comes, you have to trust again that nothing will be able to separate you from God's love in Christ Jesus. Your faith now won't carry you through then; then you'll have to trust everything all over anew, or else it won't work.
The entire 11th chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews is about faith. And it begins with an outstanding definition of faith. “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (11:1) Paul’s concluding statement in the 8th chapter of Romans is an expression of faith, but Hebrews 11:1 is an excellent definition of faith, Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, it is the conviction of things not seen.
Whenever we take a position of faith, we need to understand that we might be either right or wrong. Further, we shall probably be both from time to time. And as “you can't win them all” in any other area of life, you can't win them all in the arena of faith either.
Some things we believe without much or even any supporting evidence. As an example, let me give you some observations of Martin Luther on the nature of a supposedly Christian society. He said, "The world and the masses are and always will be unchristian, although they are baptized and nominally Christian. Hence a man who would venture to govern an entire community or the world with the gospel would be like a shepherd who should place in one fold wolves, lions, eagles, and sheep. The sheep would keep the peace, but they would not last long. The world cannot be ruled with a rosary."
Luther's thoughts on the masses are a statement of faith, which is to say, an opinion. Either most people in a purportedly Christian society are or are not Christians; there is bound to be disagreement over that. And there would be strong disagreement over whether it is even wise to try to rule the world on the basis of the Gospel. But Luther's sardonic suggestion about the sheep keeping the peace but not lasting long is something upon which nearly all Christians would surely agree.
However, there are issues of faith which are much more important to us than that kind of illustration. It is one thing to ask what we believe about the nature of the world, but quite another to ask what we believe about the nature of God. What do we believe about God? And what do we believe about Jesus Christ? What are our convictions about God's intentions for the world?
When we come to matters such as that, it is imperative to remember that our answers are not based on objective truth; rather they are based on revealed truth. Ultimately, we believe what we believe about God because He has chosen to reveal to us whatever it is we believe. Others might not think what we believe is true, let alone that it is revealed truth, but we believe it. Thus, whatever we believe is an opinion, and whatever others believe about what we believe is their opinion. To put it in very stark terms, David Koresh believed that God had revealed to him that he was the Messiah, but I don't think he was, and I expect you share my opinion. His and our convictions on this are stronger than impressions, but they are less than positive knowledge; it is not possible to be objectively positive about such a question.
All of us have faith, in addition to whatever knowledge we possess. The atheist is a believer; he believes there is no God. He cannot prove God does not exist any more than we can prove God does exist. In a purely objective sense, either opinion is equally valid, since neither position can be verified to everyone's satisfaction.
Whenever I preach, or whenever anyone else preaches, the statements of faith you hear expressed are opinions. I trust they are true, I hope they are true, I hope and trust that many of them are eternal truths, but they still are opinions. If you don't realize that, if you suppose that because a minister says something it must be so, I can do you a great disservice, but you can do yourself an even greater disservice. I only preach what I believe; I cannot, or at least I will not, preach what I know. Everything I know (two plus two equals four, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, Paris is the capital of France, Mark Twain wrote Huckleberry Finn, and the like), you already know or can easily learn for yourself. But it is the opinions we share about faith which ultimately matter; all our other knowledge is fleeting, and in the end will be little or no use.
But what do you do if you want to believe something, but you can't quite bring yourself to do it? What if you think God might have done something extraordinary in the Man from Nazareth, something redemptive, but you aren't quite certain of it?
Listen very closely: if you are at that point, it is God who brought you there. I don't know that, but I believe it; that is my opinion.
Nevertheless, as the great nineteenth century Danish sage, Soren Kierkegaard, said, and as was echoed by the great twentieth century German theologian Paul Tillich, then you must take a "leap of faith." No one has the luxury of being able to teeter forever on the brink of spiritual truth. Either we leap across to the other side, where there is faith, but no longer any positive knowledge, or we stay on this side, where there is plenty of positive knowledge, but no faith.
Faith does not come to us without personal, intellectual, and spiritual risk. Not to take the leap is to insist on knowing only what objective knowledge can verify for us. To take the leap is to trust there is a knowledge which can come only by reaching out our hand beyond ourselves to the One who stands ready to grasp us on the other side of the chasm. To remain on either side means inevitably to have an opinion, and to stick with it. If you're wondering which opinion I think is better, I shall gladly tell you; seize the opinion of faith. For then, and only then, you can have the best of both worlds.