In the final scene of the stage production of Victor Hugo's Les Miserables, the story's hero - Jean Valjean - comes to the end of his life. Since the time an old priest covered for him and "bought his soul for God" - as the priest put it - Valjean's life has become a vessel of God's amazing grace. He has stood with courageous young men, fighting and dying for freedom in the revolution. He has redeemed his own accuser, and spared the man's life. Most importantly, he has nurtured into adulthood the daughter of an exploited young woman to whom he promised - on her deathbed - that he would take the girl into his care.

And now, years have passed. The girl has grown into a beautiful woman. And Jean Valjean has come to the end. As his breath fades away to nothing, the girl's mother appears to him and invites Jean Valjean to come with her to Paradise. And as he lets go of his last ties to earth, Jean Valjean finds himself in the midst of a great parade of humanity. The friends he met in life, but who left this world before him, are there. The young men with whom he stood in battle are also marching along. And as the music swells and the procession becomes larger, we the audience are invited to come and join in their crusade.

While I watched this closing scene of Les Miserables last year, two realizations swept over me as this parade marched on before us. One was that I felt like getting up and joining them myself! The second was that this image is true.

Today is All Saints Sunday. It is, at least in my mind, one of the most important moments in the Christian year. For today we are invited to lift our eyes much higher than we ordinarily do and see things about our God and about our faith that are far beyond the small circles of our individual lives. Today, we are invited to take a peek at heaven.

There was a time in my life when I might have said to you that I would be a Christian whether or not there really is such a thing as heaven. The values, ethics, moral standards and life-oriented world-view of the Christian Faith are for me the very foundations of meaningful life. Oh, there was a time when I would have said to you I could be happy to only live as a Christian, even if there was nothing more.

Today, I can no longer say that. For I have come to understand that, even if I could be content without a heaven, God cannot! Even if I could be happy with only fifty or sixty or eighty or a hundred years of productive living, God cannot! Even if I could convince myself that my father's life-story, as well as the life-stories of all those I love who've died, are complete and enough, God cannot!

And here in our reading from Paul's letter to the Ephesians, you and I are personally challenged to take hold of the hope of heaven!

Listen to Paul's prayer for us: "I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the HOPE to which he has called you..."

There is a great problem taking place in your life right now. You may not realize it, because you've been socialized in such a way that it doesn't even occur to you that this is not the way its supposed to be. What is this problem taking place in your life right now?

Your hope is too small. Your hope is too low. Your hope is too hopeless.

May I ask you this morning, "What are your highest hopes in life?"

For many of us, the operative hope in our lives borders on the trivial. The primary expressions of hope in our lives might very well be things like, "I HOPE I can shoot just one round of par golf in my lifetime! I HOPE it doesn't rain before they button up the roof on my new house. I HOPE Marty's sermon's not too long. I HOPE the republicrats do well in the election on Tuesday."

We who live in a beautiful place like Tellico Village can easily get lured into thinking that hope has to do with things like whether or not the fish are biting on the lake. In fact, some of us have learned a new twist to the old thought: Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day; teach a man to fish, and he'll eat for a lifetime. The new one goes like this: "Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day; teach a man to fish, and he'll sit in a boat all day, and drink beer!"

That may be cute, but it's not hope.

And the claim of the Gospel is that our hopes are too small...too low...too hopeless!

So St. Paul invites us to an intriguing new experiment. That's one of the exciting things about being a Christian. We get to try out new things. New approaches to life. New behaviors. New attitudes. New disciplines.

And the new thing St. Paul prays for us, is that we may come to know the hope to which God has called us.

You see, one of the most important questions for a Christian is not "What are YOU hoping for?", but rather, "What is GOD hoping for YOU and for OTHERS and for the WORLD?"

Yesterday, a large gathering of people came together to celebrate the life and faith of our friend Ralph Totten. We remembered many joyful things about Ralph's life, and so many had stories to tell of how Ralph touched and blessed them over the years. It was a time in which we brought together our best hopes for both Ralph and his family.

But what is sometimes overlooked in times like these is that we are not the only ones who reach out in hope. God has hopes too!

And God's hopes for us and our loved ones are larger than our hopes...higher than our hopes...more hopeful than our hopes!

Some years ago, a mom and a dad were with their four young children at the seashore. As the children played on the beach, the father noticed a rather bedraggled old lady making her way down the sand, bending over to pick things up and placing them in a worn old shopping bag. She was a frightful sight, and as she drew closer, the father beckoned the children to come closer, to keep their distance from her.

The old bag lady went about her business, continuing down the long stretch of sand. The father let the children go back to their games. As they did, another family came along looking for a place to put down their blankets.

"This is a good spot!" the mother said. Then, as they made camp near the first family, the woman smiled at them and said, pointing at the old lady, "We always look for a spot where Hazel has been. Every day, she comes along the beach and picks up the broken glass so the children won't be hurt."

God's hope is a higher way of looking at others. It is a deeper way of looking at the circumstances we face.

And the only way we can ever catch a glimmer of the hope to which he has called us is to lift our eyes to heaven. For when we do, we see wonderful images. A lion laying down with a lamb. We see a light probing the deepest darkness. We see those who were always last finally getting to be first. We see the hungry satisfied and the poor set free. We see paralyzed people dancing. And weeping people laughing! And blind people seeing! And deaf people hearing! We see warring people turning swords into ploughshares and learning war no more.

Oh, when we look into heaven, we see our loved ones safe in Jesus' keeping until the day we can be together again. We see illness and illiteracy and injustice and indignity of every kind eventually being conquered. We see the world reborn to the glory and praise of God.

What are your highest hopes today?

Would you be willing to lay those aside, and take up instead the hopes...of God...

...for your children...for your neighbors and friends...for your husband or wife...for our church...for the poor...for the saints?

Come to the Table today. Eat the bread. Drink the wine. Join the procession of people from every generation who march along with heightened hope!

God has hopes for you!