Showing posts with label #advent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #advent. Show all posts

Sunday, December 4, 2022

A Signal to the Peoples

December 4, 2022 – Advent 2
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 11:1-10; Matthew 3:1-12[1]

Isaiah has hope for the future of Israel. He proclaims in this passage the coming of a righteous ruler in the line of David, and an age of harmony and peace. This was at a time when ancient Israel had divided into a northern kingdom of Israel and a southern kingdom of Judah. War with Assyria would soon destroy Samaria and end the northern kingdom. If a messiah were to come, Isaiah recognizes that it might not be in his lifetime, and the peaceable kingdom might be a consummation of God’s kingdom in the distant future. Yet he remains hopeful.

The branch growing out of the root of Jesse references the house of King David, the son of Jesse. The hoped-for king will be known as “the anointed one” and “The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord” (Is 11:2). The king will rule with righteousness, defending the welfare of the most defenseless and marginal.

Early Christians saw this model of leadership fulfilled in Jesus. He is the descendent of David who will usher in the reign of God’s kingdom. The kingdom of God, so often referenced in our Gospels, will encompass not only the future of Israel but the Gentiles and all the nations. In Jesus, we see the hope for the future, the completion of God’s vision, and the fulfillment of Isaiah’s hope for the peoples.

As we read Isaiah’s oracle of hope in our own time this Advent, we claim the anointed son of David in Jesus Christ, the new branch grown from the root of Jesse. We see Christ as the signal to the peoples of the promised consummation of God’s peaceable kingdom yet to come. It is a world where no one will hurt or destroy, when all of the earth will be full of the knowledge and presence of the Lord.

John the Baptist also holds this hope for the future of God’s people. He knows what Isaiah hoped for, as he quoted, “Prepare the way of the Lord” (Mt 3:3; Is 40:3). He proclaims the nearness of the reign of God, and announces the one who is coming after him with power.

John’s vision is more severe than that of Isaiah, at least in the way it is directed toward the Pharisees and Sadducees. To John, the temple and imperial buildings represented the centralized power of the Roman regime. The leaders considered themselves secure in the status-quo, children of Abraham, heirs to the promises of God. John warns of the ax lying at the root of the trees. Here in the wilderness – in Israel’s history the place of renewal – the old ways of power will be thrown into the fire and the new creation will be born, the new kingdom of God.

John, this wild man living on the margins, drew the people out of the center, out of Jerusalem and the temple. Here in the wilderness, on the fringes of society, the renewal and redemption of the people is taking place. The Pharisees and Sadducees, aligned with the ruling class, perceive John as a threat to their interests. The power and influence of the temple and the system of religious sacrifices is challenged by John’s baptism of repentance. John’s warnings of judgement are directed at them. More worrisome for them, and more encouraging for those on the banks of the Jordan, is the hope of one who is coming to baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire.

Jesus didn’t come to burn everything down. We must remember, it is only the chaff that is burned. The wheat is gathered into the granary. That which does us no good is cleared away, and what remains is redeemed. Wealth and status, bloodlines and position hold no more value in the kingdom of heaven than the sinners gathered by the river in the wilderness. What is of value, repentance and renewal, faithfulness and good works, these are harvested by the one who holds the winnowing-fork.

We, of course, are not rulers or judges or nations. We are not Pharisees or Sadducees. We are more like the people of Jerusalem and all Judea, gathered here rather than the river, yet still seeking repentance and renewal. We have come with our sins to confess, and we bring the scars of the sins committed against us. We seek the one who will judge with righteousness, and we are recovering from those who have judged us without righteousness. And what we find in the words of Isaiah and of John is both acceptance and admonition. We discover here, that we are loved for who we are and we are also responsible for what we do.

This Advent, as we gather in our sacred space, we enter the threshing-floor. We don’t yearn for judgement, yet we know that we have judged others. We hope that our unrighteous judgements will be swept away. We wash in the water, and hope that it will wash away our sins; but we know we have sinned against others. We hope the fire will burn that inclination away. We are grateful that one who winnows is the one who judges with righteousness and decides with equity.

As we prepare to welcome the Christ-child, we remember who we are. We learn again that we are loved, and that we are expected to be loving. We are reminded that we are loved enough by God to be welcomed into the family of Christ, and that God loves us enough to expect that we will act accordingly. My prayer for you is that this Advent season prepares you for a life which signals that the kingdom of heaven has come near.  Amen.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

Sunday, November 27, 2022

Keep Awake

November 27, 2022 – First Sunday of Advent
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 2:1-5; Matthew 24:36-44[1]

We live in a time of uncertainty. There is certainly plenty to cause us anxiety these days. There is the ongoing war in Ukraine, rising tension between China and the West, deadly protests in Iran, and never-ending conflict between Israel and Palestine. There is inflation, or maybe it’s easing up. There is the triple threat of COVID, RSV, and the Flu. And always, the political strife in our country. Things can seem pretty dark in the world right now. Are the nations beating their ploughshares into swords, and their pruning hooks into spears? It seems that way sometimes. And it seems as if there is little we can do about it except worry.

I worry about how I’m going to pay for college for Zach and Nathan. I worry about my retirement fund, the health of my mother-in-law, and when the cars are going to give out; and I worry about what I see and read in the news. What does it all mean? Where are we headed? And is there anything I can do about it? Sometimes, dare I say it, I fear for the future. I’m sure there are times when you do as well. Change comes faster and faster these days, and it’s hard to keep up with it all.

Part of that fear, I suppose, is because I think I’m supposed to know the answers. I’m a faithful person, I believe in God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the Bible, the Church Universal, etcetera. I’m supposed to have it all figured out, right? But my faith doesn’t always help me figure out the right thing to do. There are times when I have no idea what God would have me do in a given situation. There’s nothing in the Bible about smart phones, Twitter, antibiotics, electric automobiles, or radioactive pollution.

The disciples lived with uncertainty too. In our passage from Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus, whom the disciples have followed for years now, has entered Jerusalem and cleansed the temple. He has just finished a lengthy denunciation of the scribes and Pharisees in the previous chapter. The disciples, who know who Jesus is, are starting to worry that things are not going how they expected, and in their fear, they anticipate the end times. They ask Jesus, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?”[2]

Religious leaders, scientists, and philosophers have been making predictions for the end of the world for centuries. They’ve predicted the destruction of the world through floods, fires, and comets—none of which have come to pass. The apostle Paul got it wrong; and even Jesus predicted that “this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place.”[3]

Jesus tells them about many signs of the end of the age; but more importantly he says, “about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son.”[4] There is some mysterious day in the future when the judgment will come, but even Jesus doesn’t know when that will be. Yes, Jesus doesn’t know everything; and you know what? We’re not supposed to know everything either. Uncertainty is to be expected. It is nothing to fear. And faith certainly doesn’t mean living without uncertainty, not for the disciples, and not for us.

It is possible to live with uncertainty, to keep moving steadily into the future with no guarantee that we’re on the right path. We can live with the questions, seeking different answers if the old ones stop making sense. In order to keep us steady through the uncertainty of life, Jesus points us toward the everyday tasks of living – eating and drinking, marrying, working in the fields and grinding meal – doing them faithfully in wakefulness. Keep living your life, keep an eye on what is to come, but keep your focus on the here and now.  Live a faithful life, and keep awake.

“You know what time it is,” Paul wrote to the Romans, “how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.”[5] Things may seem dark in the world today, but “the night is far gone, the day is near.”[6] It may be dark now, but a change is coming. When the doorbell rings, it will be too late to clean the house. Jesus is coming; quick, everyone look busy!

Don’t just stand around watching the skies and waiting for the rapture. We don’t have time for that! We should do good works. We should do the best we can, uncertain whether we are right or wrong at times, but faithfully going about the work we believe God would have us do in this world. And, fear not! We’re not supposed to do everything ourselves. We’re not supposed to save the world. That job is already taken. Our role is to be God’s hands in the world, to work toward the realm of God, and the work that we do will be enough. Our task is to keep faith, joy, and love alive in the midst of dark times, and watch for the signs of hope.

What we must do is choose how we go about that work of doing good in the world. Mark Yurs, a pastor in Wisconsin wrote, “The key element for Jesus is not the work, important as it is. The indispensable part of faithful work is [what] Jesus names as watchfulness or wakefulness.” [7] The disciple is the one who is watchful for the signs of the coming realm of God. “Hope will come,” Rev. Yurs continues, “the deepest, best, and highest shall come – not from our work but from somewhere outside and beyond it.”[8] The disciples don’t bring the hope, they point out where hope is present.

We are faced with an uncertain future. Things look grim, for many people around the world, for people in this community, and for people in this room. And so, we must make a decision. We can’t go backward, searching for halcyon days that weren’t as golden as we like to remember them. We can’t stick with the old reality. If we do that, things will only get worse. We have to start living in the now, and living into the future. The decision we face is how we shall live. Will we fear the new reality, or will we face it with hope? Do we trust the signs? Do we trust the prophets? Do we trust Emmanuel?

How do we live into the future? Do we allow ourselves to be motivated by fear, or do we watch for signs of hope? Do we point out all the things that give us reason to give up, or do we keep our eyes open for ways in which we can make a difference? Do we turn our backs to the poor, or do we work together as people who have faith that things can be better? As Christians, we live into the future with glad anticipation, with hopeful urgency, awake with expectation of the dawn. “In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it.”[9]

Let us pray. O come, O come, Emmanuel. God be with us. Cheer our spirits, disperse the clouds of night. Show us the path of knowledge, give us hope, and fill the whole world with heaven’s peace. Jesus, as we come to your table, take from us our fear, and give to us your hope. Amen.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Matthew 24:3.

[3] Matthew 24:34.

[4] Matthew 24:36.

[5] Romans 13:11.

[6] Romans 13:12.

[7] Mark E. Yurs, “Homiletical Perspective” on Matthew 24: 36-44 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 21-25.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Isaiah 2:2.

Sunday, December 19, 2021

The Song Goes On

December 19, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 1:39-55[1]

It’s the reason for the season: the Christmas story, the shepherds, the angels, the baby lying in the manger. We gather to sing the old carols, to hear the story read again. It is a wonderful time of gathering with family and friends, at least before COVID, of gift giving, ice skating, and warm cocoa by the fire. For most of us, Christmas is warm feelings of safety, happiness, and love.

As one writer puts it, however, “Christmas is not safe. The reason it is not safe has nothing to do with the traffic hazards around the malls, harmful toys for children, or the possibility of Christmas tree fires. Christmas is not safe because the Christ Child is not safe.”[2] God with us in the world is dangerous to the powerful, to the cruel, to the rich, and to the indifferent. Mary knew this; it was her song.

The mother of Jesus is most often portrayed as meek and mild, gentle and timid. We don’t think of her as shaking the foundations of Empire, of defying the ways of the world that put people in their place, keep them down, render them powerless. Sweet, innocent Mary has a revolutionary spirit, a vision of the world where justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.[3] This is the woman God chose to bear Jesus into the world, to raise a child who would become the Savior. Mary “recognized the ugliness of inequality. She was incensed by the brutality of oppression. Mary longed for a better world.”[4]

Mary pondered the greeting of the angel, Gabriel, wondering who this child she carried would become. The Son of the Most High, who would rule over the house of Jacob, how would he change the world? Her cousin, Elizabeth, who was thought to be barren, had conceived a son in her old age. With God nothing is impossible. With a cry, Elizabeth greeted her, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”[5] With hope burning in her heart, Mary responds with the song we know as the Magnificat.

My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…

the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.

The Lord God is coming to fulfill the promises made through the prophets, and her words speak of danger to those who oppress the people.

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;

he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.

This is good news for the poor, the lowly, the hungry; this is bad news for the rich and powerful. We love to sing the songs of angels, of shepherds staring in wonder, of kings from afar bringing gifts fit for a king. We don’t count this song as one of our Christmas carols, yet this is the song that gave strength and courage to centuries of downtrodden folk. Like the slaves of the old South sung of glory on the other side, that we shall overcome, those who live in an unjust, inhumane world envision a world of justice, righteousness, hope, and joy as they sing the song of God’s power to change the world. This song of Mary is the subversive protest song of the lowly, sung in defiance of the proud. Music is powerful.

As I studied for this sermon, I read the story of Víctor Jara, a folk singer in Chile at the time of the military coup led by General Augusto Pinochet. It struck a chord for me because my in-laws were living in Chile then. “Víctor Lidio Jara Martínez didn’t sing in English, nor did his songs substantially influence Western music, but the manner of his death, the symbolic silencing of his music, made him an international symbol of resistance.”[6]

In 1973, the democratically elected government of Chile was toppled by the forces of Pinochet. The rule of Pinochet was known for its horrors and oppression. Jara was a famous musician and prominent supporter of Chile’s president Salvador Allende. He was arrested the day after the coup and held in an indoor sports complex in Santiago along with some 5,000 others. Periodically, people were taken out to be tortured.

There are various stories of his last days, but it is clear that his music kept its power. Craig Watts writes, “In the midst of the brutality and abuse, he began to play and sing. He lifted his voice against the violence and destruction that was being imposed upon his people. The crowd hushed in order to listen to his songs, songs of courage and hope. His songs helped them to see beyond the pain and defeat of the moment to possibilities yet unrealized.”[7]

Jara was recognized, and an army officer stamped on his wrists. He was beaten and tortured. At one point, through split lips, he defiantly sang Venceremos (We Will Win), Allende’s 1970 election anthem. On the morning he was killed, Jara scribbled the lyrics to a final song, “Estadio Chile,” which were later smuggled out of the stadium: “How hard it is to sing when I must sing of horror/ Horror which I am living, horror which I am dying.”

Even his death did not stop the song. “The people who heard it remembered. Throughout the time Pinochet and his forces ruled Chile, the oppressed people sang the song of Victor Jara.”[8] The song goes on, and Jara’s defiance and hope in the face of fear continues to inspire. Jara has been commemorated in dozens of songs in several languages, including “Washington Bullets” by The Clash, and “One Tree Hill” by U2. James Dean Bradfield of the Manic Street Preachers has recorded an album about Jara’s life and death.

In a world of oppression, fear, and brutality, Mary sang. Mary sang, because she knew that the child she was to bear would save the world. Her song is remembered, as is her defiant courage and strength. Her son had his own music, music that would shake the world. And even though the powerful tried to stop him with violence and death, the song goes on. It is sung in the hearts of all who believe that a better world is possible, that love will win, that justice will come, and that God’s promises to our ancestors will be fulfilled.

[God’s] mercy is for those who fear him,
from generation to generation.

God’s power is in the song that goes on.  Amen.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Craig M. Watts, “Singing Mary’s Song” posted on https://www.ministrymatters.com/.

[3] Amos 5:24.

[4] Watts.

[5] Luke 1:42.

[6] Dorian Lynskey, “Víctor Jara: The folk singer murdered for his music,” August 12, 2020 on https://www.bbc.com/culture/.

[7] Watts.

[8] Watts.

Sunday, December 5, 2021

The Miracle of Peace

December 5, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Malachi 3:1-4; Luke 3:1-6[1]

In the story of Jonathan Toomey,[2] he needed peace. He needed to make peace with his past, the loss of his wife and child. He needed to let go of his anger, accept that they were gone, and allow himself to say goodbye and move on. He found peace within himself with the help of others who were able to give him love, patience, and purpose.

Let peace begin with me. That’s how the song goes. That is where peace must begin. It must begin with you and me. Peace is more than the absence of war, the absence of conflict and violence. Peace is a presence, the presence of connection.

Inner peace begins with a connection to our true and natural selves, that part of our being that is most in tune with God’s will for us. So, in a sense, inner peace is connection with the Spirit of God who dwells within each of us. It can be difficult to recognize that there is some part of God that lives and breathes within us, especially when we are not feeling all that great about ourselves and the world around us; but I assure you, it is there. And making or restoring that connection gives rise to serenity, the feeling of balance, and a sense of well-being.

Peace with others begins with recognizing the connection between two human beings. When we are open to seeing the shared humanity in another, when we open our hearts to feel the joy and suffering of another, it is then, and only then, that we are able to resolve our conflicts, to forgive one another, and to make peace in our relationships.

Peace in our world, and even peace in our community, requires us to connect across our many differences and learn respect and appreciation for those differences. It requires an understanding that all people have the right to justice, freedom, and dignity. And, I dare to say, peace in our world requires changing much of what we take for granted.

The way that we view the world, the assumptions that we make about “the way things are,” are often anti-peace. We think of adversarial relationships, “us” versus “them,” as normal. We view competition – I win and you lose – as a good thing. We believe in right versus wrong, good against evil, and we often enforce our views with violence.

But would it be so hard to change that way of thinking? What if we assumed that we are all in this together, that what affects you also affects me? What if we worked for win-win solutions to our problems? What if we made a commitment not to harm others, to avoid violence, force, and coercion in our relationships? What if we looked for the seeds of peace in every situation? Wouldn’t that be a miracle?

This is the time to prepare for Christmas. This is the time to prepare the way of the Lord. So when we see a path made crooked by conflict, let’s make it straight with compassion and understanding. When we see a valley dividing one person from another, let’s fill it in or build a bridge with love for one another. When we see a mountain of injustice, let’s bring it low by working for justice, freedom, and dignity for people everywhere. Let the Lord refine us, like gold and silver, until we are pleasing to the Lord.

We will not be alone as we labor for peace. The Lord God of Israel has remembered the covenant sworn to our ancestors Abraham and David. We will be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us. We will serve God without fear. We have been given the knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of our sins. God is with us, and will guide our feet into the way of peace. Blessed be the Lord our God.  Amen.

_____

Some material adapted from Louise Diamond, The Peace Book: 108 Simple Ways to Create a More Peaceful World (Berkeley: Conari Press, 2001), Introduction.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Susan Wojciechowski, The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey, illustrations by P.J. Lynch (Cambridge, MA: Candlewick Press, 1995).

Sunday, December 1, 2019

Fear or Hope


December 1, 2019
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 2:1-5; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44

We live in a time of uncertainty. There is certainly plenty to cause us anxiety these days. There is the rising tension between the U.S. and China, and Russia. There is ongoing war in the Middle-East. There is economic unrest and unemployment, farmers have been hit hard by weather and tariffs. Things seem pretty fearful in the world right now. Are the nations beating their ploughshares into swords, and their pruning hooks into spears? It seems that way sometimes. And it seems as if there is little we can do about it except worry.
I worry about how I’m going to pay for college for Zach and Nathan. I worry about the health of my parents, the condition of my dishwasher, and the political divisions driving us apart. What does it all mean? Where are we headed? And is there anything I can do about it? Sometimes, dare I say it, I fear for the future. I’m sure there are times when you do as well. Change comes faster and faster these days, and it’s hard to keep up with it all.
Part of that fear, I suppose, is because I think I’m supposed to know the answers. I’m a faithful person, I believe in God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the Bible, the Church Universal, and etcetera. I’m supposed to have it all figured out, right? But my faith doesn’t always help me figure out the right thing to do. There are times when I have no idea what God would have me do in a given situation. There’s nothing in the Bible about cell phones, Facebook, pesticides, electric automobiles, or noise pollution.
The disciples lived with uncertainty too. In this story from Matthew’s gospel, Jesus has entered Jerusalem and cleansed the temple. He has just finished a lengthy denunciation of the scribes and Pharisees in chapter twenty-three. The disciples, who know who Jesus is, are starting to worry that things are not going how they expected, and in their fear they anticipate the end times. They ask Jesus, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?”[1]
There have been many predictions of the end of time, and all of them (so far) have not come true. Jesus tells them about many signs; but more importantly he says, “about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son.”[2] There is some mysterious day in the future when the judgment will come, but even Jesus doesn’t know when that will be. Yes, Jesus doesn’t know everything; and you know what? We’re not supposed to know everything either. Uncertainty is to be expected. It is nothing to fear. And faith certainly doesn’t mean living without uncertainty, not for the disciples, and not for us.
It is possible to live with uncertainty, to keep moving steadily into the future with no guarantee that we’re on the right path. Jesus points us toward the everyday tasks of living – eating and drinking, marrying, working in the fields and grinding the meal – doing them faithfully in wakefulness. Keep living your life, keep an eye on what is to come, but keep your focus on the here and now, live a faithful life, and keep awake.
“You know what time it is,” Paul wrote to the Romans, “how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.”[3] Things seem pretty troubling in the world today, but “the night is far gone, the day is near.”[4] It may be dark now, but a change is coming. When the doorbell rings, it is too late to clean the house. Jesus is coming; quick, everyone look busy!
Yes, we should do good works. Yes, we should do the best we can, uncertain whether we are right or wrong at times, faithfully going about the work we believe God would have us do in this world. But fear not! We’re not supposed to do everything ourselves. We’re not supposed to save the world. That job is already taken. Our role is to be God’s hands in the world, to work toward the realm of God, and the work that we do will be enough. Our task is to keep faith, joy, and love alive in the midst of uncertain times, and watch for the signs of hope.
What we must do is choose how we go about that work. The Rev. Mark Yurs, a pastor in Wisconsin writes, “The key element for Jesus is not the work, important as it is. The indispensable part of faithful work is [what] Jesus names as watchfulness or wakefulness.” [5] As we do good works in the world, the way we do the work, the watchfulness that we maintain, is what really matters. And what is it were supposed to be watching for? The disciple is the one who is watchful for the signs of the coming realm of God. “Hope will come,” Rev. Yurs continues, “the deepest, best, and highest shall come – not from our work but from somewhere outside and beyond it.”[6] The disciples don’t bring the hope, they point out where hope is present.
We are faced with an uncertain future. Things look grim, for many people around the world, for people in this community, and for people in this room. We are at a decision point. We can’t go backward, searching for halcyon days that weren’t as golden as we like to remember them. We can’t stick with the old reality. If we do that, things will only get worse. We have to start living into the future. The decision is whether we fear the new reality, or if we face it with hope. Do we trust the signs? Do we trust the prophets? Do we trust Emmanuel?
How do we live into that future? Do we allow ourselves to be driven by fear, or do we watch for signs of hope? Do we point out all the things that give us reason to give up, or do we keep our eyes open for ways in which we can make a difference? Do we turn our backs on people in need, or do we work together as people who have faith that things can be better? As Christians, we live into the future with glad anticipation, with hopeful urgency, awake with expectation of the dawn. “In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it.”[7]
Let us pray. O come, O come, Emmanuel. God be with us. Cheer our spirits, disperse the clouds of night. Show us the path of knowledge, give us hope, and fill the whole world with heaven’s peace. Jesus, as we come to your table, take from us our fear, and give to us your hope. Amen.


[1] Matthew 24:3. The Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989, by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
[2] Matthew 24:36.
[3] Romans 13:11.
[4] Romans 13:12.
[5] Mark E. Yurs, “Homiletical Perspective” on Matthew 24: 36-44 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 21-25.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Isaiah 2:2.