Psalm 112:7-8 He is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the LORD. His heart is steady; he will not be afraid, until he looks in triumph on his adversaries.
If you’ve ever read a movie review, perhaps you skipped the parts with spoilers because the movie wouldn’t be as enjoyable if you already knew what was going to happen. When watching a movie or reading a novel, we hope to be entertained or moved by a great story, and part of that comes from being surprised or even saddened by the various twists and turns that lead up to the final resolution.
When it comes to real life, however, it’s probably safe to say that most people would appreciate more “spoilers.” Just thinking about the various tasks I can do on my phone in a matter of seconds is a reminder that finite, unsovereign creatures daily grasp for certainty. The weather forecast tells me what time a storm will come, the GPS tells me how many minutes the traffic jam will last, and the power-company app tells me when the lights will come back on. If we’re honest, we like these modern technologies because they make us feel just a little bit more in control in a fallen world that daily burdens us not only with present trials but also with potential trials. We might be discouraged about what happened yesterday, but we’re also anxious about what may happen next week.
Though our desire for certainty often manifests itself in sinful fear or a prideful attempt to defy our creatureliness, the desire for certainty isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Consider the holy certainty of God, for whom nothing is mysterious or unknown. He is not sitting on His throne imagining how He will respond if His plans are foiled, but rather, “He who sits in the heavens laughs” (Ps. 2:4). Why is He laughing? The nations rage, the peoples plot, and “the kings of the earth set themselves . . . against the Lord” (v. 2), but God is absolutely certain of who He is, and thus He is not alarmed or troubled whatsoever. His reign is eternal and indestructible, and He laughs at man’s feeble attempts to defy it.
Amazingly, God does not keep this laughter to Himself but desires His children to be laughing along with Him. We see this laughter in the God-fearing woman of Proverbs 31, who is clothed in strength and dignity, and “laughs at the time to come” (v. 25). This is no naive, “glass-half-full” laughter that turns a blind eye to the inevitable trials and frustrations of life in a fallen world. This laughter flows from an unwavering conviction that He who sits in the heavens is not only God Almighty but also perfect Father, who not only cares for but also communicates with His children. Weaving an astonishing narrative of redemption, He clearly reveals Himself in a Word that is fully trustworthy and sufficient. And through that Word, He beckons us to keep laughing—not by giving us a play-by-play of the next presidential election or a detailed timeline of our children’s sanctification; no, God’s Word does not eliminate earthly uncertainties, but it illuminates heavenly realities.
The certain continuity of our union with Him is a bond of love, mercy, and compassion that offers real-time comfort this side of heaven as we enjoy fellowship with Him.
This laughter is the same happy confidence of the God-fearing man in Psalm 112: “He is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord. His heart is steady; he will not be afraid” (vv. 7–8). The reason that he doesn’t fear bad news is not that he never receives any. He lives in the same fallen world of war, disease, and relational conflict as we do—a world of endless uncertainties—yet he sleeps soundly through the night and isn’t afraid to get up the next morning and read the newspaper. Why? In the fear of the Lord, he believes that what the Lord has spoken is absolutely true. He is a certain, steady, laughing Christian who looks on life through the lens of things that are rather than things that may be.
Because our Father has clearly communicated with us, the Christian life is one of certainty. But what exactly are we certain of? What specific truths keep us tethered to eternity when the tangible world around us is liable to sudden disaster and the minivan’s check-engine light comes on (again)? God has given us many such truths, and it is the Christian’s joy to spend a lifetime unearthing those treasures and living in light of them. But let us be reminded of just a few.
a certain communion
In his work Redemption Accomplished and Applied, John Murray says that no other truth is “more suited to impart confidence and strength, comfort and joy in the Lord than this one of union with Christ.” The certainty of this intimate union and communion with Christ is the bedrock of the Christian’s laughter. Without it, we have nothing to laugh about because the sovereign ruler of the universe is not loving father but fearful foe, not for us but against us. But with it, we have a secure salvation and eternal sonship that cannot be taken away. We are sure—certain—that nothing “in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:39). And this salvation is not an impersonal business transaction, nor is Christ a cold and distant benefactor. The certain continuity of our union with Him is a bond of love, mercy, and compassion that offers real-time comfort this side of heaven as we enjoy fellowship with Him. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Heb. 4:15). We may not know exactly what sorrows await us, but we can be sure that no matter what we face, Christ will be waiting there with the comfort of His tender presence and “grace to help in time of need” (v. 16).
a certain conformity
The Bible doesn’t whisper: we can be certain that the life of supreme joy is a life of holiness and that choosing sin is never to our advantage. Unfortunately, the slow process of spiritual growth is at times both painful and discouraging. But as redeemed sons and daughters, we can stare our remaining sin in the face with the joyful certainty that Christ isn’t finished with us. In union with Him, we are “being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor. 3:18). We can’t always discern how it’s happening, but we can be sure that “he who began a good work in [us] will bring it to completion” (Phil. 1:6), as God works in us, “both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (2:13). This is greatly encouraging when we consider the uncertain future. We often think, “I don’t know what I would do if that happened,” picturing a particular trial that we’re sure would undo us. But the promise of God’s preservation of His children and His continued work of sanctification reminds us that there is a storehouse of grace ready for us when we need it. We don’t have to construct a detailed vision of our future self successfully walking through that trial—it’s enough to believe that “God is able to make all grace abound to [us]” that we might “abound in every good work” (2 Cor. 9:8).
The certain conformity of God’s people is also a comfort when we look at the world around us and wonder whether the coming generations will have what it takes to stand up to evil and walk faithfully with the Lord. Will God’s kingdom gradually weaken, and the church dwindle away? Absolutely not. Christ will not just continue to save; He will continue to sanctify. Because He is passionately devoted to and mightily at work in His bride, she can anticipate not the increasing misery of sin but the increasing miracle of steadfastness.
a certain consummation
We sense it every day—something is incomplete. We rejoice in a beautiful wedding, a temptation resisted, a relationship reconciled. But we relish these joys alongside the bitter taste of a rebellious child, a corruption exposed, a diagnosis confirmed. Ours is a now-but-not-yet salvation, and the “not yet” part leaves us groaning in our earthly tents and wondering, How bad is it going to get?
Our union with Christ gives us the certainty that whatever difficulties we will face in the coming days, God will not only get us through them; He will get us home. Paul makes a frank declaration in 1 Corinthians 15:19: “If in Christ we have hope [i.e., confident laughter] in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.” Why? Because the Christian life is a narrow road. Trials are not only expected but embraced. Mortifying sin is painful. Persecution is inevitable. The comforts are real and many, yes, but the crosses are, too. If there is no hope for comfort beyond this short earthly life, we might as well seek whatever earthly pleasure we can get our hands on, since we are just going to die anyway. If all the difficulties of the Christian life are not working for us the joy of glorification and the eternal enjoyment of Christ in the new heaven and earth, why voluntarily walk the hard road to holiness?
Our laughter must reach beyond tomorrow and into eternity. The events of tomorrow and next year are uncertain to us; sometimes they’ll turn out better than we expected, sometimes worse. But that is because we are getting merely a foretaste of what is to come—the final consummation of God’s kingdom in which we are no longer unclothed but clothed, no longer waiting for Christ but with Him, no longer crippled by earthly uncertainties but fully comprehending heavenly realities. Our union with Christ will be felt, understood, and cherished as it never was on earth. Every sigh will be of happy relief, and every tear will be for joy. These are the certainties that get us out of bed in the morning and compel us to go on laughing. When the trumpet sounds, the Lord descends, the books are read, and the gates of heaven are opened, our laughter will not be pitiable but proven.
Article by Tessa Thompson / Tabletalk Magazine - September 2024
Tessa Thompson is author of Laughing at the Days to Come: Facing Present Trials and Future Uncertainties with Gospel Hope.
Comments