Job 8:13

"...the hypocrite's hope shall perish"

(The following sermon was preached by Dr Campbell at the Friday evening preparatory service in Scalpay Free Church on 7 March 2003.)

These are the words of Bildad to Job. Bildad was one of three friends who feature prominently in the Book of Job, and who came to comfort Job when his circumstances became adverse and difficult. The other two friends were Zophar and Eliphaz, and they had a simple case: for Job to have suffered so badly must have meant that he was being chastised for a particularly glaring and heinous sin. Their advice to Job is that he confess his sin and wrongdoing, and then he will discover the blessing of God on his life.

Throughout the case, however, Job protests that none of this is true. He protests his innocence and integrity; and we know from the beginning of the book that God's view of Job is that there is no-one of such impeachable integrity and righteousness. But, as Calvin reminds us, the secret of our reading of the Book of Job is to realise that while Job's friends have a poor argument, they argue it well; whereas Job, who has a good argument, argues it poorly.

So, in this eighth chapter, we find Bildad accusing Job of hypocrisy. If only Job would seek God as he used to (v5) and recover his uprightness (v6), then God would favour him with blessings as before (v6-7). The reason Job is continuing to suffer is because he is covering the reality of his situation with protestations which show that his situation is anything but genuine.

This is all wrong; and it is all too possible for us to misuse biblical truths and doctrines and to build a case which only demolishes and discourages. My purpose this evening is not to justify Bildad's misuse of the truth; but it is to justify the truth that Bildad misuses. We cannot admire Bildad for misapplying right doctrine, but we can learn from the doctrine he misapplies.

And, in fact, it is a doctrine which is before us constantly as we read through this book. Consider, for example, the great words of Job himself in chapter 13:15-16: "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him: but I will maintain mine own ways before him. He also shall be my salvation: for an hypocrite shall not come before him." Or the words of Zophar in chapter 20:4-5: "Knowest thou not this of old, since man was placed upon earth, That the triumphing of the wicked is short, and the joy of the hypocrite but for a moment?" Or the words of Job again in chapter 27:8: "For what is the hope of the hypocrite, though he hath gained, when God taketh away his soul?" It is a lesson that is driven home time and again throughout this book, that the hypocrite's hope will perish.

Perhaps you are saying tonight that this is not very encouraging as we approach a communion Sunday, and prepare to sit at the Lord's Table? Surely we should be looking for something more positive and more helpful than texts which speak of hypocrisy?

But let's take a moment to consider the teaching of the Bible. In the Old Testament the Passover feast was accompanied by the feast of unleavened bread. This required that all the leaven, or yeast, was put out of the houses before the Passover was kept. So close was the connection between unleavened bread and Passover that they came to be identified with one another (see for example Luke 22:1).

Now Jesus makes a very pointed reference to this at one point. This is what we read in Luke 12:1-2:

In the mean time, when there were gathered together an innumerable multitude of people, insomuch that they trode one upon another, he began to say unto his disciples first of all, Beware ye of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. For there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known.

Jesus spoke often to the Pharisees, accusing them of hypocrisy. And his advice to his followers is that they should search their hearts and lives in order to make sure that there is no such thing in their Christian lives. Just like the yeast in the bread mixture, hypocrisy can work through the life and influence our behaviour and our relationship with God. At a time of Communion, when we celebrate the finished, redemptive work of Christ for us, we are to ensure no such leaven remains.

Paul says as much in his letter to the church at Corinth. Listen to his advice in 1 Cor. 5:7-8 -- "Purge out therefore the old leaven, that ye may be a new lump, as ye are unleavened. For even Christ our passover is sacrificed for us: Therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, neither with the leaven of malice and wickedness; but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth." There is the same truth. Christ IS our passover. There is a feast to be kept -- a communion, a sacramental occasion. And we are to keep it in sincerity, without the leaven of malice, wickedness, insincerity and falsehood. Instead, we are to go to the Lord's table with sincere motives, desires and aspirations.

So the truth of our text finds an echo in the teaching of our Lord and of the apostles. Paul tells us that we are saved by hope (Romans 8:24); but tonight we are called to ask whether our hope is the hope of the hypocrite or of the true child of God. So let us begin by reminding ourselves that it is of the utmost importance that our hope is grounded in the right place. To have misplaced confidence is a terrible thing; it is to have the hope of the hypocrite, and that, at last, will perish.

So let me ask -- may I ground my hope in all I know? Is it enough for me to say that I believe certain things to be true? That I accept all the facts, statements and insights of the Bible? That my theological system is the only verifiable and valid one, because it takes its material from the inspired word of God?

To be sure, no-one can be a true Christian unless he or she believes certain things. Our trust in Christ has to be the result of information given to us, and accepted by us as true. How can we believe in him of whom we have not heard? We need facts -- biblical facts -- if we are to be saved, for it is the truth that sets men free.

Yet nothing can be clearer from the Bible than the fact that it is possible to know and believe biblical facts, doctrine and teaching, and still be lost and dead in trespasses and sins. The devils believe, but they are still devils. Did you know that Satan is a Calvinist? He believes absolutely in the sovereignty of God -- he believes that God is supreme in Creation, in Providence, in Salvation, in Grace, in Judgement. He knows that there is a power which can break his, and it is not the power of the human will -- it is the power of the grace of God. He knows that he has man in bondage to sin from the moment he is conceived, but he also knows that the work of God's grace is able to break his dominion over the human heart.

But despite all that the devil knows, he remains the father of lies. He could not be the father of lies without knowing the truth. He has no interest in propagating the truth, but in perverting it, and in turning men away from it. And, at last, he is still a devil, with an unchanged and unchangeable nature. It is possible for us to ground our eternal hope and our spiritual confidence in what we know to be true. Yet knowledge of doctrine and of the Bible are no guarantee either that we are genuinely saved or that we are not.

So shall I ground my confidence in what I do? Shall I take comfort to myself in the Christian habits I have begun to cultivate -- the habits of prayer, Bible reading, church-going and such like? Can I point to the fact that the regular habits of my life focus around the means of grace and the services of God's house?

Again, it is clear that the life of the child of God becomes profoundly affected and influenced by the work of the Holy Spirit in the soul. What God does in us bears fruit in what we do for him. If it is true that a man in Christ is a new creation, with new habits and desires and activities, then grace will shine through into every fabric of our living. A man in Christ is a new creation -- he is made into something he could never have become by natural development. The Christian's transformation is complete. We emerge from the hands of our Creator renewed in the image of Christ. To be a Christian does mean that we do new things; if our claim to be Christians is not matched by a change of habit and lifestyle, then something is radically wrong.

Yet is this enough to make it a grounds of confidence? Surely not; for it is possible to have good habits and good activities and good styles and good behaviour and yet be dead in trespasses and sins. No-one was more zealous than Judas Iscariot in following Jesus and in engaging in Christian activity, yet he was a child of hell, for whom it would have been better had he never been born at all. Activity and doing are in themselves neither signs of spiritual life nor signs of spiritual deadness.

Shall I then ground my hope in what I've experienced? Perhaps, tonight, under the Gospel, I can reflect on times when I heard the Word of God expounded with such power and conviction that my life was touched to the very core of my being. It may be possible to speak of conversion and of feelings of deep awe and conviction. Surely such feelings and experiences are evidence of saving power in my soul?

To be sure, there are such things as religious affections (as Jonathan Edwards reminds us). There is a vast difference between being alive on our feelings, and being alive in our feelings. God forbid that we should live on such fleetings, temporal things as the experiences and emotions which flood over our lives. But God deliver us from a religion that is orthodox but dead; that is biblical but cold; that is Reformed but fails to renew us! We want preaching that will move the heart as well as inform the mind; that has power, passion and persuasiveness; that leaves us reeling under a sight of Jesus and his love. It is impossible to be a Christian without feelings!

Yet it is also possible to have strong feelings and not be a Christian! It is possible to speak of conversions, of decisions, of emotions, of changes and of power which came our way through the Gospel and yet were accompanied by spiritual deadness. Christ warns of those who will say "Lord, Lord", and yet who have no saving, or living relationship with himself. Experience is no grounds for a sure hope; 'conversion' will not prove a stable foundation; powerful emotions will be ephemeral and vanishing. Grace cannot be grace unless it melts the heart; but a melted heart neither testifies to the power of grace or the power of sin. The apparent evidences of a saving change may be present alongside the most barren spiritual condition.

Shall I then ground my Christian hope in what I enjoy? Can I say that because I love Christian company, and Gospel preaching, and communion seasons, and the fellowship of the Lord's people, that I am safely and soundly born again? Perhaps all my life hitherto has revolved around sacramental occasions such as these, attended as they are with our traditions of fellowship, of study of God's word, of reflection on the atonement; and I can genuinely say that I look forward to the communion season and enjoy nothing more. Is that enough?

Joy in the things of God is the inevitable consequence of God's work in our soul. The psalmist rejoiced to go to the house of God (Psalm 122:1) and acknowledged God's law to be the delight of the truly blessed man (Psalm 1:2). Our chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy him; and those who have come to see their need of Christ have come to relinquish the fleeting joys of this present evil world. Their real happiness, contentment and peace are to be found in the nature, being and work of God. They have found the things of earth to grow strangely dim in the light of God's glory.

Yet is it not possible to enjoy the things of God at a purely superficial level? To enjoy the company of good people, the entertainment of good sermons, the benefits of good habits and of good preaching? We are social creatures, after all, and it is native and natural to man to respond to conviction and to authority. We may truly enjoy the pulpit and the blessings and favours and privileges of the church while still remaining at a distance from God. That we enjoy Christian things is in itself neither a sign that ours is a heart of flesh, nor that it is a heart of stone.

So shall I base my hope on what I desire? Shall I say that I want more than anything to go to Heaven when I die, to see loved ones again and to escape the world's deadness, difficulties and snares? Is that not a sign that my condition before God is well, and that I ought to be at his table? Surely these desires are telltale signs of saving grace, and grounds for the confidence and hope of the Christian?

Where there is genuine spiritual life in the soul, there will be desire for Christ. Everything about him will draw us to him. His voice, his word, his cross, his work -- all of this will prove magnetic. There is no believer who will not say "Draw me, and we will run after you" (Song 1:4).

Yet Balaam desired the death of the righteous and yet loved the wages of unrighteousness (see Numbers 23:10 and 2 Peter 2:15). The one did not cancel out the other. It is possible for us too to hope that one day we will be in Heaven, while here on earth we embrace our secret lusts and desires. That we want to be saved, or that we want not to be lost, is neither a sign of spiritual health nor of spiritual disease.

Have we any grounds of confidence at all, then? If we cannot ground our hope in our beliefs (what we know) or in our practice (what we do) or in our experience (what we have gone through) or in our pastimes (what we enjoy) or in our wishes (what we desire), what is it that truly distinguishes between the hypocrite's perishable hope and the believer's durable one?

What shall we say about the hypocrite's hope?

First, the hypocrite's hope is concerned only with externals..

By the time of the New Testament, the Greek word hypocrite meant an actor on a stage, or, more precisely, the mask worn by the actor. The actor knew that all he had to do was put on a mask and he could be someone else, with the capacity to make his audience laugh or cry.

It is possible to be like this in religion too. To wear the mask of respectability and piety, and to have all the appearances of genuine life.

But give me the true child of God and I'll show you someone who has discovcered that the heart of the matter is a matter of the heart -- who has found that while man looks on the outward appearance, God is far more interest in what our hearts are like. The hope of the true child of God is not a matter of what is external but what is internal -- it is based on a personal relationship with God that goes beyond what is 'seen and temporal'.

Second, the hyprocrite's hope is never the object of satan's attack.

Why should Satan disturb the hope of the person who is assured that all is well? He has each one of us in his grip and under his bondage from the moment we come into the world, and he has little to do to keep us in that condition. If he finds that we are content that all is well, he will leave well alone. He has nothing to fear from a person who has nothing to fear.

But it is not so with the true believer. "We are not ignorant of Satan's devices", Paul says, and there is no genuine Christian ignorant of him either. Where there is a real, living hope, it is always the object of Satan's attack. Even Peter, the prince of the apostles, required to be reminded of how easily he could find himself in Satan's clutches. "Satan has desired to have you to sift you as wheat", was the word of Jesus to Peter.

Peter discovered that he needed to be kept, and protected. He found out that the only place of safety was in Jesus words, "but I have prayed for you that your faith will not fail." On another occasion, Peter gave voice to the devil's efforts to sidetrack Jesus from the cross -- "Be this far from you Lord!" To which Jesus replied, "Get thee behind me, Satan!" The same message was clear here -- the protection Peter needed was that Jesus should intervene, and stand between Peter and his adversary.

No, the true child of God does not call for a mask, but for armour -- for a shield, and a helmet, for a sword and for shoes -- knowing that he is not called to act on a stage but to fight in a war, and to maintain his ground lest the pains of hell swallow him up. That requires daily strength and daily strategy. How easily we give in! But if we have the hope of the true believer, the devil knows that it will work holiness and Christlikeness in us, and the devil hates nothing like he hates this. "He that has this hope in him purified himself, even as Jesus is pure".

Third, the hypocrite is never afraid his hope might be something other than what it is.

The hypocrite goes on his way, self-confident, self-assured, self-righteous. His hope is never coupled with fear, but always brims with confidence. God is entirely in his debt, and the possibility of his being lost is never an issue with him.

Is it so with the true believer? Never! I dare say we have all known Christians who thought they might be hypocrites, but never did we stumble across hypocrites who were afraid they might be Christians! Give me a true believer, and I will give you someone who is not content with assumptions, because he knows that nothing will stand before God except what is sincere and what is genuine.

Paul did not content himself with the knowledge that he had preached the Gospel far and wide and that he had planted churches and seen much blessing on his evangelistic labours. On the contrary, he says that he keeps himself under subjection, "lest by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway" (1 Corinthians 9:27). It was not enough for him to know that his ministry had been successful; he knew it was possible to preach well, and to be used mightily for the sake of the Gospel, and yet still be lost.

There must be a holy fear, a godly fear, in our religion, to keep us from presumption and arrogance, from pride and self-confidence. These are the things which can so easily ensnare us and lull us into a false security. I am not advocating that we go about in a constant state of doubt; but I am seeking to press home the important of Paul's injunction to us to examine ourselves, whether we are in the faith (2 Corinthians 13:5). The hypocrite knows nothing of self-examination. But the children of God dare not live except with the prayer "Examine me O Lord and prove me; try my heart and my reins" (Psalm 26:3).

Fourth, the hope of the hypocrite is seldom lost.

The hypocrite never has his assurance in eclipse. It is always there, always the same, always brimming full of confidence. He knows nothing of doubt and trial, nothing of the loss of hope. His religion is a sham, his life an act; and his hope builds solely on what others see of him.

But it is not so with the true believer! Listen to Job in this great book of the Old Testament, as he cries in his anguish to God in chapter 23: "O that I knew where I might find him!" He looks all around, but God seems to be far away. The Heavens are silent, and there is no response. He does not conclude in the light of this that he is no child of God; his anguish only leaves him clinging all the more to the confidence that God knows where Job is, even if Job does not know where God is (23:10).

Job's experience drives home a central element of Christian living -- that the just shall live by faith, not by experience, and not even by assurance! Many of God's choicest saints have gone through times of real darkness in their soul. Do you know that was why John Duncan of Edinburgh was pleased God had provided infant baptism? He says that he would apply for believers' baptism one day on the cusp of full assurance of faith, only to lose that assurance the next day and imagine he had never been converted at all! He says he would have immediately concluded he had done the wrong thing in being baptised as a believer, and would have to re-apply constantly.

He took baptism to be not a sign of personal assurance of faith, but a sign of God's covenant promise. That was his hope and confidence -- not that he was sailing with a full wind behind him, but battling sometimes against a fierce gale, and thankful that what mattered was not his grasp of Jesus, but the Lord's grasp of him.

Finally, the hypocrite's hope never takes him by way of the cross.

What need does he have of Calvary's great transaction and atoning work? Why should he come to where the perfect lamb of God bleeds and dies on behalf of sinners? Why should he trust to the work of another, when he is content with his own work and his own righteousness?

But the true believer knows that at last the only work that can give him any standing before God is the work done on his behalf by the great shepherd of the sheep, who died to take away sin. Nothing but the blood of Jesus can atone. Anything else is transient and passing.

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust my sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus' name.
On Christ the solid rock I stand
All other ground is sinking sand.

Have we learned this? Our only standing -- the only ground of a sure hope before God, is not in our knowledge or experience, in our works or in our Christian 'frame', but in Christ alone.

Let us, therefore, search out the leaven of hypocrisy, so that we may keep this communion feast with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.

Amen.

ŠIain D. Campbell 2003