The Foundation of Hope: Christ Our Cornerstone

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer. Lord, give us eyes to see and ears to hear, so that we can learn Your Word together as a family. We give you all the praise and honor and glory for it, in Jesus’ holy name. Amen.

Today we light the first candle of Advent – the candle of hope. As we heard in our liturgy, this hope was first expressed to Abraham when God called him to ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.’

Imagine that moment – Abraham standing at the threshold of the familiar, looking out toward an unseen promise, with nothing but God’s word to guide him. This is biblical hope in its purest form. It wasn’t just an optimism he had that things might improve. It was a confident expectation based on God’s character and promises.

Abraham’s journey laid the foundation – brick by brick, generation by generation – for a hope that would ultimately find its fulfillment in Christ. The patriarchs lived by what our liturgy called ‘the light of faith,’ journeying in hope toward a promise they would never fully see realized in their lifetimes.

Hebrews 11:13 tells us they ‘died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar.’

As we begin this Advent season, we join this ancient journey of hope. We stand in a long line of faithful people who have waited expectantly for God’s promises to be fulfilled.

But unlike Abraham, we look back at the first Advent while simultaneously looking forward to Christ’s return. Our journey of hope has both historical roots and future fulfillment.

In Isaiah 28, we find God speaking to a people whose hope had been misplaced. They had made ‘a covenant with death,’ trusting in political alliances and human strategies rather than in God’s protection.

To these misguided people, God makes an extraordinary promise in verse 16: ‘Behold, I am the one who has laid as a foundation in Zion, a stone, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone, of a sure foundation.’

This cornerstone prophecy is remarkable. In ancient construction, the cornerstone is integral, serving as the first stone laid in a building’s foundation. Every stone thereafter was precisely aligned with it, making it critical to the structure’s overall integrity. If the cornerstone were flawed, the entire building would be at risk of collapse.

Isaiah’s prophecy symbolized the fragility of a life poorly anchored. In contrast, Isaiah tells us that God promises a flawless cornerstone – one that is tested, precious, and steadfast – providing an unshakable foundation upon which enduring faith and stability can be built.

Our Gospel lesson fast forwards to Christ’s triumphal entry in Matthew 21. The people shout ‘Hosanna!’ – literally ‘Save us now!’ – expressing their hope that Jesus would be their political and military deliverer.

Yet Jesus immediately challenges their misplaced hopes by cleansing the temple. Like the people in Isaiah’s day, they had built their hopes on shifting foundations.

St. Peter later identifies Jesus explicitly as the cornerstone in 1 Peter 2:6-7, quoting Isaiah’s prophecy. Christ is the cornerstone that aligns all of history, all of Scripture, and all of our lives. The hope we have is not wishful thinking. Our hope is formed on the tested, precious, and sure foundation of Christ himself – Emmanuel, God with us.

In our Advent liturgy, we read Psalm 33:20: ‘We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield.’ It’s an active anticipation. The Hebrew word for ‘wait’ here carries connotations of tension – like a rope pulled taut – suggesting expectancy and alertness.

St. Paul captures this active waiting in our Epistle from Romans 13 when he writes, ‘The night is far gone; the day is at hand. So then let us cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.’

Hope in Christ doesn’t mean we sit back and wait for his return or wait for our circumstances to improve. It means we live differently because of what we know is coming.

In Psalm 46, we’re reminded that ‘God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear though the earth gives way.’ That’s the thing about hope in Christ. It doesn’t deny the reality of our broken world – the earth indeed sometimes ‘gives way’ beneath us. But it anchors us to something more secure than the ground beneath our feet.

This Advent season, many in our community and world are experiencing their own personal earthquakes – health crises, relationship breakdowns, financial struggles, grief, and loss.

The hope we have doesn’t put blinders on to life’s difficulties. The hope we have is built on the cornerstone that remains steady when everything else trembles, when those earthquakes do come.

So how do we realistically build our lives on this cornerstone of hope? Isaiah’s prophecy guides us. In verse 17, God says, ‘I will make justice the line, and righteousness the plumb line.’ When we build our lives on Christ, our cornerstone, we align ourselves with his justice and righteousness.

First, we must examine the foundation of our current hopes. Are we, like those in Isaiah’s day, making covenants with death – placing our ultimate trust in things that cannot save? Our bank accounts? Our health? Our relationships? Our nation? All these will eventually fail us if they become our cornerstones.

Second, we must align ourselves with Christ daily. A building doesn’t just need a cornerstone at the beginning – it relies on it constantly for structural integrity. Each day, we realign our thoughts, priorities, and actions with Christ through prayer, Scripture, and community.

Third, we become people who embody hope in a world of despair. Abraham was told, ‘in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.’ As those built on the cornerstone of Christ, we too become channels of blessing and hope to others.

So, my fellow encouragers, as we begin this holy season, let us take this first step with quiet confidence. The candle we lit this morning burns with a small and steady flame, reminding us that hope rarely arrives with fanfare. More often, it begins as a flicker—just enough light to take the next step in faith.

That is all Abraham had. It is all Israel had. And in truth, it is all we need.

And so, we wait with anticipation—trusting the Cornerstone God has laid, trusting the light that no darkness can overcome, trusting the Savior who has come and who will come again.

In a few moments, we will come to the Lord’s Table. Come with open hands and expectant hearts, for the One we hope for is the One who meets us here. Let His presence strengthen you, steady you, and fill you with the hope only He can give.

May that hope—small but certain—guide your steps in the days ahead.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.