Tag: Matthew

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What do we do when we feel threatened?

title slide with photo of the two churches decorated for Christmas

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry and Bluemont Churches
January 4, 2026
Matthew 2:13-23

Sermon recorded at Bluemont on Friday, January 2, 2026

At the beginning of worship:

In his devotional, Waiting on a Word, which contains a poem a day along with reflections from Advent through Epiphany, Malcolm Guite ponders the sentimentalization of the Nativity. With houses “deluged in a cascade of cosy Christmas images, glittery frosted cards, and happy holy families who seem to be remarkably comfortable in strangely clean stables, we can lose track of the essential gospel truth: that the world into which God chose to be born for us was then, as now, fraught with danger and menace.”[1]Our readings this year in the gospel of Matthew serves as an antidote for becoming too sentimental. 

Reflecting on the Holy Family’s fleeing Bethlehem, Guite included one of his own poems, “Refugee.” 

We think of him as safe beneath the steeple,
Or cosy in a crib beside the font,
but he is with a million displaced people
On the long road of weariness and want.
For even as we sing our final carol
His family is up and on that road,
Fleeing the wrath of someone else’s quarrel,
Glancing behind and shouldering their load.
Whilst Herod rages still from his dark tower
Christ clings to Mary, fingers tightly curled,
The lambs are slaughtered by the men of power,
And death squads spread their curse across the world.
But every Herod dies, and comes alone
To stand before the Lamb upon the throne.[2]

Before reading the Scripture:

As we’ve seen over the past three Sundays, Matthew doesn’t spend much time with Jesus’ birth. Instead, he focuses on the wisemen, Herod’s reaction to the birth of the child, and the holy family’s flight into Egypt. Today, we’ll explore that flight and the horrific massacre of the innocent. 

There are three parts to our story. First, an angel tells Joseph in a dream to take the child and flee to Egypt to escape Herod’s plans. Then we have Herod ordering the killing. In the final section, Herod dies. Joseph is given the “all-clear” signal to move back to Israel. But all is not well, for Herod’s family lives on. Through it all, Matthew reminds his readers this took place to fulfill scripture. Matthew writes to those familiar with the Hebrew scriptures, and he wants them to see how God works so that the world might benefit from the realization of God’s promises. 

Read Matthew 2:13-23

This disturbing passage comes on the heels of the Christmas story. We celebrate the birth of the prince of peace, and then, all a sudden, we’re thrown back into the cruelty of the world. Herod, a pathetic character if ever there was one, feels threatened. A cornered tyrant, he does whatever it takes to maintain power and control, even if it means taking the lives of the innocent. Unfortunately, Herod is not an isolated example. 

A few years ago a political cartoon depicted a nativity scene, we’re all familiar with them. The person setting up the scene placed two toy tanks on each side. When questioned why, he said it through it made the scene look more realistic. 

In 2001, after the twin towers fell, a Palestinian bishop in Jerusalem, and we tend to forget many Palestinians are Christians, wrote in his Christmas message, “Herod the king was eager to protect his power… He thought violence was the only way to security. Our world has many Herod’s, who think they can protect their nations and interest by violence, or change the world using arms, or remain in power by killing others, and achieve security with the Cobra, the Apache, or the F16.”[3]

Although we shouldn’t justify Herod, we might understand how Herod felt when he discovered through the wisemen a new king was on his way. It troubled Herod. 

A few years ago, there was a commercial for the Wall Street Journal. A woman in a suit, obviously an executive, and a skater dude who worked in the mail room entered an elevator. There were two other men in suits in the back. As they rode up, the woman noticed the skater dude reading the Journal. Impressed, she told him they were hiring a new vice president of a particular operation and gave him her card as she got off the elevator. As the two men continued riding the elevator up, one looked like he’d seen a ghost. The other guy says, “Hey, isn’t that your position.” The news of the wisemen must have made Herod feel like that guy. 

Even though the baby in Bethlehem is a long way from being a threat, Herod’s paranoid gets the best of him. But this wasn’t the first time. He had one of his own sons killed. He also killed a wife and a brother-in-law, whom he considered threats. Emperor Augustus supposedly remarked it was safer to be Herod’s pig than his son. At least a pig stood a chance.[4]

Compounding Herod’s paranoia was his self-imposed isolation. He boxed himself off. Like Stalin, he killed all who threatened him, whether the threat was real or imagined. Kind of like Stalin who wasn’t Russian, but Georgian, Herod was only nominally Jewish.[5] Herod, like Stalin and many horrific figures in human history, didn’t have the best interest of his people at heart. They looked out for themselves. 

Herod didn’t seem to understand the faithful had been waiting for the Messiah for centuries. He hadn’t gone to the synagogue school to learn the prophecies, or if he did, he didn’t pay attention. He couldn’t comprehend the joy in the news of the wisemen. Herod wants to maintain his position of authority and doesn’t feel the need for God or anyone else, although he’d be in a heap of trouble without the Roman military. He’s an isolated man unable to rejoice at anything but his own doing. That’s why he is so troubled. 

With the news of the birth of a king, Herod feels as if a knife has been thrust into his back. And, when we find ourselves in some situations, our survival instincts kick in. If we’re not careful, we’ll make a bad situation even worse. 

The late Rabbi Edwin Friedman, a well-known psychologist and family counselor, wrote about how humans, when threaten, revert to a “reptilian mode of thinking.” He labeled such behavior as “reptilian regression.”[6]

If you think about it, reptiles are not playful. They don’t have a nurturing relationship. Many even eat their own. Their only concern is survival, and they will do whatever it takes to continue living. This survival instinct has been preprogramed into our brains. Generally, we operate at a higher level, but when really scared, we regress back to the “survival of the fittest” mentality. This happened to Herod. He hears of a new king and is so afraid of being overthrown, he orders the killing of the infants.

It’s hard to have sympathy for Herod, along with Hitler, Pol Pot, Stalin, Putin, and others throughout history who take evil to a new level. Yet, we must realize in our own small ways, we too act out of self-interest. 

Hopefully, none of us would stoop to murder. And when someone in our society stoops so low, they can be quickly stopped because we don’t have the power someone like Herod had in the first century. But we do act in other harmful ways. Sin remains close at hand, especially when we feel threatened. Satan always lurks nearby, ready to offer us a helping hand so we might protect our self-interest. 

Yet, even Herod is not absolute. He’s a pawn in a larger game of chess. He allows himself and his power to be used in a way to attempt the destruction of the one hope the world has to reconcile with God. 

Of course, this passage really isn’t about Herod. He’s just a minor character in a larger drama which takes place. 

The passage is really about God’s providence. It’s about God protecting and guiding his own Son so the world might be reconciled with the creator.  Using angels within dreams, God communicates the urgency for Joseph to take his wife and son and flee to Egypt. There, beyond the tentacles of Herod, Jesus remains safe.  And once Herod dies, Joseph learns it’ssafe to return to his homeland.

In our story this morning, Joseph has no choice but to trust God. He’s a refugee, one without status, with a wife and child to for whom to care. He’s all alone in the world and has only God to trust. Herod, on the other hand, can attempt to control his destiny and so he takes things into his own hands. And we see where that got him. Satan had a field day. 

We should use those times we feel betrayed as opportunities to deepen our trust in God, not as an occasion to strike back. During such times when we are torn in conflict, we should remember that vengeance belongs to God. Whenever we take God’s vengeance into our hands, innocent people get hurt. 

In his book, The Peacemaker A Biblical Guide to Resolving Personal Conflict, Ken Sande reminds his readers that whenever we experience conflict, which often arise from betrayal, we should look at it as an opportunity to glorify God.[7] We have a choice. We can show our love, respect, and trust in God. 

Through our actions, we can show others how we rest in God’s grace and peace. Or we can be like Herod and take matters into our own hands, and play second fiddle to the devil. 

Both Joseph and Herod felt betrayed. Joseph’s betrayal came from his government, one which did not look out for its people. Yet, he trusted God. Herod felt betrayed because an infant destined to be greater than he and all human kings. Instead of trusting God, Herod took matters into his own hands and became Satan’s pawn. There are many times in our lives in which we feel as if we’ve betrayed. How do we respond? Do we use such opportunities to learn to trust God’s providence, like Joseph? I hope so, for when we think about it, the alternative causes more destruction. Amen. 

Parts of this sermon was taken from a sermon I preached in December 2001.

[1] Malcolm Guite, Waiting on the Word: A Poem a Day for Advent, Christmas and Epiphany (Norwich, UK: Canterbury Press, 2015), 115.

[2] Guite, 115, “Refugee.” 

[3] Bishop Munib A. Younan, Christmas Message 2001, from the internet and used in a sermon of mine on December 30, 2001. 

[4] Kenneth E. Bailey, “Incarnation and the Slaughter of the Innocents,” The Presbyterian Outlook, 24-31 December 2001.

[5] I was reminded of Stalin’s similarities after reading Simon Sebag Montefiore, Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar (New York: Knopf, 2004). 

[6] Edwin H. Friedman, Friedman Fables (New York: Guilford Press, 1990), 155. 

[7] Ken Sande, The Peacemaker: A Biblical Guide to Resolving Personal Conflict  (1990, Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1997). 

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Lessons from the Wisemen

title slide with photo of the two churches at Christmas

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry and Bluemont Churches
December 28, 2025
Matthew 2:1-12

Sermon recorded at Mayberry Church on Saturday, December 27, 2025

At the beginning of worship:

There has often been speculation about a fourth wiseman. Gary Larson’s “Far Side,” depicted him rejected at the manger because of his gift, a fruitcake. I happen to like a good fruitcake, so I don’t think that’s as funny as others. 

Henry van Dyke wrote a short story about a fourth wise man.[1]Artaban, like the other three wisemen, saw a star in the east. He, too, collected gifts, his being gems and pearls, and set out to meet the other wisemen for the journey to find the newborn king. Artaban’s compassion caused him to become sidetracked, which resulted in a longer journey. He barely began his trip when he came across a sick man. Unable to leave him in the road to die, he cared for him and then gave him a sapphire so he could buy medicine and care for himself. The other three are now way ahead of Artaban, but he continues. 

He arrives in Bethlehem around the time of Herod’s killing the innocent boys. He uses another precious stone to bribe the soldiers not to go into a home where a young boy lives. Artaban wonders if he’ll have any presents left when he reaches Jesus. He continues searching and helping those in need. He goes to Egypt as Jesus and his family heads to Nazareth. Artaban keeps looking for Jesus but is always too late. He searches for 33 years. 

Finally, he’s in Jerusalem. Jesus has been led out to Calvary, but even here he stops to help others. He pays the ramson for a slave. Now penniless, he feels he failed, only to meet the risen Christ, who thanks him for his kindness. “What you did for the least of these, you did to me,” Jesus said. Artaban achieved his goal without knowing it. 

Before the reading of Scripture:

As I’ve been doing since Advent, I’m following Matthew’s gospel.[2] Last Sunday, we heard Matthew’s rather brief reporting on Jesus’ birth. Now, we learn of those who are drawn to Jesus. Luke, in the passage we listened to on Christmas Eve, points to the shepherds. Matthew tells us of the coming of the wisemen. This passage, which brings foreigners to the baby Jesus, foreshadows the ending of Matthew’s gospel where Jesus sends the disciples with his message out to the ends of the earth. 

In his mammoth work, The Birth of the Messiah, the late Raymond Brown, a Roman Catholic New Testament scholar, tells about how after the Protestant Reformation, the Roman Church continued to lift up the tradition of the Magi while we in Protestant Churches focused more on the Shepherds.[3] While an interesting thought, we should remember Scriptures give equal weight to the shepherds and magi. Both are unlikely candidates to celebrate the birth of a King, just like Mary and Joseph, poor Jewish folk, are unlikely candidates to be the parents of Jesus. God works in mysterious ways.   

Read Matthew 2:1-12

There are several angles I could take to point out the truths contained in the story of the wise men. Let me highlight three and suggest how they apply to our lives:

1. The wise men make it a priority to seek out Jesus.

2. Finding Jesus, they respond giving gifts of thanksgiving, without expecting of anything in return. 

3. Having encountered Jesus, they know their loyalty is to a higher power and ignore the demands of King Herod.

Let’s look at each one. We don’t know why the wise men choose to follow a particular star. We don’t even know who these guys are. It’s generally assumed they’re from Persian. Some scholars suggest Zoroastrian priests who spent time studying the stars. God placed that star, or the conjunction of planets, or an unfamiliar comet, or a supernova, or whatever it was into the skies to catch their attention and to draw them to Judea.[4]

It’s obvious they are not Jewish; otherwise, they’d know to head to Bethlehem. But whoever they are, they knew something’s up and feel obliged to check it out. This meant taking a long journey to a distant land. It’s important to find Jesus, so they take the risk to seek him. 

Finding Jesus should be that important to us. Responding to Jesus’ call is the most important decision we will make. It should over-ride all our wants and desires. When we decide to seek Jesus out, like the wise men, we’re called on a journey of which we have little control. We’re no longer our own; we belong to our Lord.   

What might we learn from the wisemen’s search? They first head to Jerusalem, the holy city, a place of excitement. Herod’s palace and the temple are there. Pious people pack the street, carrying out the work of the temple. Pilgrims trek there to worship. 

It seems natural to assume Jerusalem would be the place for the birth of a king. But that’s not where they find Jesus! Instead, they’re led to a small dumpy town, five miles away. A poor suburb, inhabited with shepherds and goat herders, supplying meat and animals for the appetites and sacrifices of those in the capital. Flashy isn’t one of God’s traits. God humbled himself by coming to us as Jesus. We often find Jesus, in humble circumstances. To encounter Jesus, we must be humble. Being splashy or hanging out with the popular crowd isn’t a guarantee of Jesus’ presence. Jesus comes to those who humbly admit their needs for a Lord and Savior over their lives.

Now about giving. One of the most important lessons for a Christian to learn is that giving is as much a blessing as it is an obligation. And it’s not just giving money, although the Scriptures are clear the faithful should regularly give our resources for God’s work in the world. But we are also called to be generous with our time and abilities, helping not only the church but also one another. We feel good about ourselves when we give, especially when we give without expecting anything in return. 

Furthermore, when someone does something nice for us, we feel compelled to respond. We may do this simply by saying “thank you” or we may go out of our way to do something nice for the other person. We should also teach our children to be gracious. It’s an important trait for nothing is sadder than someone who is unable to give or acknowledge what someone did for them.

The story of the three wise men shows the importance of giving without being asked and without expecting anything in return. Think about it. A group of foreigners present gifts to a child they don’t know. 

Now let’s now examine our story closely: Contrary to the popular carol and the ubiquitous nativity scenes, we don’t know for sure that there were only three wisemen. Instead, we’re told that they were three gifts and so it’s natural to think of three bearers of the gifts, but they may have been more, that fourth wiseman suggested by Gary Larson and Henry van Dyke. 

Over the years a lot has been made about the three gifts. We naturally associate gold with kings. Fragrant substances, often imported from distant lands, seem fitting for royalty. Myrrh, used in the anointing oil for a priest, aligns with the Messiah, the “anointed one.” Frankincense, used with prayers in the temple, may imply Matthew saw the gift foretelling a time when the baby Jesus would be worshipped as God. However, this is speculation. The gifts may have just been those considered worthy of a King.[5]

The wise men know they need to worship something greater than themselves. They need to worship God who considers us so precious that he comes in the flesh. In coming, they fulfilled the passage from Isaiah, about the light of Israel arising and the nations and kings coming to see the glory. In fact, from the Isaiah passage, we get the transformation of the wise men into kings.[6]

In the Old Testament, light often symbolizes the presence of the Lord and salvation. Israel was to be a light to the nations because she had a special relationship with God. The coming of God in Jesus Christ fulfilled Israel’s ability to be that light to all people. The foreign Magi heralded the fulfillment of this prophecy by being the first to worship Jesus.

There is a saying that God cannot pour his blessings into a tight fist.[7] The wise men were able to be blessed because they came with open hands. But Herod, and the people of Jerusalem, afraid of this thing happening in Bethlehem, were tight fisted. And they missed the glory of Bethlehem.

The wise men express love to the baby Jesus. It was a gamble to go into a foreign land and search out a new king not born in the palace. They take their chances and are remembered today. At the same time, Herod and those in Jerusalem also had a chance to worship the newborn Messiah. But concerned with what they might lose, they lose the opportunity to worship God in the flesh. We remember them, but not for the same reasons. The wise men, who made gifts without expecting anything in return, remind us of our calling as Christians. We’ve been given a great gift. In return, and without expectations, we’re to be generous.   

Finally, consider the loyalty of the wise men to a higher authority. Tying the story of Herod together with the wise men provides us with a counterplot. We’re reminded that even though the Messiah has come, evil remains a seductive threat in the world. Herod’s false humility almost thwarts God’s plan as the wise men, at first, appear to believe his sincerity. The threat of evil is genuine. We can easily find ourselves looking for a Savior in all the wrong places.

Evil has as much power as we give it. Hitler would have never been able to take over Germany and do what he did without the support of others. Nor would any of the other horrific giants in history. They started as wolves in sheep clothing and because not enough people spoke up, soon enough, they carried out their reign of terror.

Of course, God’s Spirit helps the wise men discern Herod’s true intentions. The Magi find the child in Bethlehem, worship and give him gifts. When they leave, they take the bypass around Jerusalem. They remind us that our loyalty is first and foremost to God.[8] Although as Christians, we’re called to obey those in authority, our allegiance has limits. Our commitment to God always comes first.  

Three things to take home and ponder: Seek Jesus, give graciously, and remember that our loyalty to God trumps all human allegiances. Amen.

[1] William White, Stories for the Journey (Minneapolis Augsburg, 1988), 110-114.

[2] This is one of the areas the lectionary drives me crazy. It places the flight into Egypt and the killing of the innocent children around Bethlehem this week and the coming of the wisemen on Epiphany, to fall into the 12 days of Christmas. I prefer to preach continually through a passage (Lectio Continua) and so I’m following the Matthew passage on the birth which runs from Matthew 1:18 through chapter 2.  

[3] Raymond Brown, The Birth of the Messiah (New York: Doubleday, 1993), 197-198.

[4] Raymond Brown, 167-173, goes into detail about the origin of the wise men and the star.

[5] Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation Commentary (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993), 14.

[6] See Isaiah 6:1-6 (especially verse 3).  Also see Psalm 72:10-11.  Brown, 187-188, has a detailed account on how the wise men or Magi were transformed into “kings.” 

[7] John Guest, Beating Mediocrity: Six Habits of the Highly Effective Christian (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1993), 154.

[8] See Romans 13.

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Christmas Eve 2025

title slide with photo of candles leading into sanctuary

Jeff Garrison
Christmas Eve 2025
Mayberry Presbyterian Church

The sermon was recorded the morning of Christmas Eve.

A few years before I moved up here on the Blue Ridge, I lived on an island outside of Savannah where you could have the Wall Street Journal delivered every morning before sunrise. One morning, a few days before Christmas, I picked up the Journal and began to scan the headlines. One title caught my attention. “The Salvation of the Napalm Girl.” 

I knew immediately who the article was about. She’d never sought fame, but her photo was captured on film when I was a Junior High student. I expect many of you may also remember the tragic photo of her, a young girl with her clothes burned off, running and screaming. It became an iconic image of the Vietnam War. Napalm burns and leaves the victim, if they survive, scarred for life. She became bitter. I read the article almost 50 years after the tragic events. She still requires treatment for her burns.

Her name is Ms Kim. A decade after the photo was snapped, when she was 19, she attended a small church in Vietnam on Christmas Eve. She heard the pastor deliver a Christmas message which would be familiar to us. Christmas is not about gifts carefully wrapped and placed under a tree. Christmas is about the gift of Jesus Christ; God wrapped in human flesh. A change came over her life and for the first time she experienced peace. 

The story we heard tonight for the umpteenth time has that kind of power, the power to change lives. And the story is about people every bit as overlooked as Ms Kim. 

Bethlehem wasn’t known as a thriving town. The village sat off the beaten path. It’d seen its better years as Jerusalem grew and became the place to be. When you entered the city limits, there might have been a commentative sign acknowledging their favorite son, David, who went on to be the King of Israel. 

There may have been some who still harbored ill feelings toward David. After all, he was the one who put Jerusalem on the map, which would soon eclipse Bethlehem. David positioned the Ark of the Covenant on the spot where Solomon would build the temple and the rest is history. Since those two, David and Solomon, almost a 1000 years earlier, Jerusalem prospered while Bethlehem slipped into obscurity.

Bethlehem was the type of town easily by-passed or driven through without taking a second glace. It might have had a blinking stoplight, or maybe not. It’d be like the towns we pass through when we get off the interstate and head down an old highway.

Bethlehem could have been a setting for an Edward Hopper painting. Hopper is mostly known for “Nighthawks,” a painting of an empty town at night with just a handful of lonely people hanging out in a diner. It’s often been parodied in art, with folks like James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, and Elvis Presley sitting at the counter. This sparse painting creates a sense that time has passed the town by. 

Or maybe the town could be a setting for a Tom Wait’s song—the scratchy roughness of his voice describing lonely and rejected people, struggling through life.

In many ways, Luke sets up Bethlehem by placing the birth of the Prince of Peace in a historical context. In Rome, we have Augustus, the nephew of Julius Caesar. Some twenty-five years earlier, he defeated his enemies, and the entire empire is now at peace. The glory of Rome far outshines Jerusalem and makes Bethlehem seem like a dot on a map. Yet, Caesar’s power reaches out to places like Bethlehem, even though he probably never even heard of the hamlet. And, of course, the peace Rome provides is conditional. It’s maintained at the sharp points of its Legion’s spears and swords. Those who would like to challenge the forced peace face the real possibility of crucifixion. Luke also tells us Quirinus is the governor of Syria, another Roman, a foreigner, who control events of the region.

Those rulers in high places dress in fancy robes, eat at elaborate banquets, and live in lavished palaces. They aren’t bothered by the inconvenience their decrees place on folks like Mary and Joseph. This couple is one of a million peons caught up in the clog of the empire’s machinery. If the empire says, jump, they ask how high. If the empire says go to their ancestral city, they pack their bags. It’s easy and a lot safer to blindly follow directions than to challenge the system. So, Mary and Joseph, along with others, pack their bags and head out into a world with no McDonalds and Holiday Inns at interchanges. For Mary and Joseph, they set off south, toward Bethlehem.

If there were anyone with even less joy than those who lived or stayed in Bethlehem, or those who made their way to their ancestorial home, it would be the shepherds. These sheepherders remained at the bottom of the economic ladder. They spend their time, especially at night, with their flocks grazing. The sheep are all they have. They must protect them. They can’t risk a wolf or lion eating one of their lambs. So, they camp out with the sheep, with a staff and rocks at hand to ward off intruders. They don’t even like going to town because people look down on them and complain that they smell.

You can’t get much more isolated than this—a couple who can’t find proper lodging in Bethlehem, with the wife who’s pregnant, and some shepherds watching their flocks at night. But their hopelessness quickly changes as Mary gives birth and places her baby in a manger. There is something about a baby, a newborn, which delights us. Perhaps it’s the hope a child represents. Or the child serves as an acknowledgement that we, as a specie, will live on. While birth is a special time for parents and grandparents. An infant child also has a way to melt the hearts of strangers. We smile and make funny faces and feel especially blessed if the mother allows us to hold the child for just a moment.

This child brings joy. Joy comes not just to the parents, but also to the angels. The angels share the joy with the shepherds. The shepherds want in on the act, so they leave their flocks and seek out the child. All heaven sings and shares the song with a handful of folks on earth. The shepherds also are let on the secret that, so far, only Mary and Elizabeth and their families share. This child, who is to be named Jesus. His name is the same as the Old Testament is translated as Joshua. Joshua saved the Hebrew people after Moses. Jesus saves the world. Soon, in a few generations, Jesus’ message will spread around the known world.

And for this night, the sleepy hamlet of Bethlehem, a stable is filled with joy. The darkness cannot hide the joy in the hearts of this young mother and father and the shepherds. Something changed. Yes, a child has been born. But more importantly, God is incarnate in this child. God comes in the flesh; in a way we can understand. God comes in a way to relate to all people, from lowly shepherds to the oppressed people living on the edge of an empire, and to all the world. This child, whose birth we celebrate, brings joy to the world.

And now, for this moment, although they don’t realize it, Bethlehem eclipses the important towns like Jerusalem and Rome. Truly, in God’s economy, the last will be first. 

Friends, as we light candles and recall this night in song, may you be filled with the joy of hope which comes from placing our trust in Jesus, who was born in stable. He would grow and teach and heal. The only crown he’d wear would be one of thorns as he was being mocked on his way to his execution. But death couldn’t hold him. His kingship continues. It survives all earthly kings. We continue to worship him long after the Caesars of the world have been forgotten. Amen.

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Jesus’ Birth in Matthew: A New Beginning

title slide showing photos of the inside of Mayberry and outside of Bluemont, decorated for Christmas

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches  
Matthew 1:18-25
December 21, 2025

Sermon recorded at Bluemont on Thursday, December 18, 2025

At the beginning of worship:

The holiday stands in contrast to the birth of the Prince of Peace, as we used to witness in the chaos of shopping. Today, it’s a little less hectic today as we do most of our shopping online… We’ve just pushed the chaos off onto postal and delivery workers.

Several years ago, a woman shopped in one of those big city department stores. A multi-floored building, with escalators and elevators to whisk you from floor to floor. One floor was devoted just to toys. Her four and six-year-old kids considered it heaven. The mother thought it another place. 

Her kids sang the “I want this” song repeatedly. Not the exactly the same as the “repeat the sounding joy,” we hear in “Joy to the World.” On every aisle they discovered a new “I gotta have” toy. 

Frazzled and about to come unglued, the lady finally paid for her purchases. She dragged the bags and her two kids to the elevator. The door opened. She and the kids and the presents squeezed in among everyone else. As the door closed, she let out a sigh of relief. Then she blurted, “Whoever started this whole Christmas thing should be strung up!” 

From the back of the elevator, a calm but a bit sarcastic voice responded, “Don’t worry, madam, we already crucified him.”[1]  

The Christmas story is all a part of a larger drama of God’s directing. Christmas celebrates God coming to us in a way we can understand. It’s a genesis, a new beginning. In that child born of Mary, a peaceful joy enters to the world. We can now experience forgiveness and to be reunited with God. There’s a link between Christmas, Good Friday and Easter. 

Before reading the Scripture:  

Surprises fill the Gospel of Matthew. It begins with a genealogy of Jesus. That seems innocent enough, but within the names, we find scandals. Four women appear, none of whom met the Jewish holiness standards. Two are foreigners, and there’s a prostitute, an adulterer, and one involved with her father-in-law…[2] Matthew drives home the point. God works in mysterious ways and can use anyone to further the kingdom. 

Following the genealogy, we learn of Jesus’ birth. While he’s given the name “Jesus,” he’s also given another name, Emmanuel, which means “God’s with us.” That’s the whole story of Jesus in a capsule. Let’s listen to the text. 

Read Matthew 1:18-25.

Christmas often doesn’t seem peaceful. Pressure builds as we strive to find the right gifts for our loved ones, or fix the perfect meal, or attend all the events and concerts and plays. 

Birth is always an exciting time, for when a child is born there is no telling what might come from his or her life. But for this child, the child Mary carries, there’s something even more special about him. He’s the Messiah. But not the Messiah folks expect. He’s not going to be a great military leader wiping our enemies. He’s not going to be a pretentious king sending decrees out from his throne in Jerusalem. A carpenter who later in his life, becomes teacher and a healer. Instead of providing earthly rewards, he erases the gap between us, citizens of earth, and God. He comes to save us from ourselves, from our sins, and from our failures at trying to be our own gods.  

God certainly chose a unique way to bring the Messiah into the world. Our text begins simply: “the birth of Jesus took place in this way.” Interestingly, the word for birth used here literally means “the genesis.”[3] With Jesus, there comes a genesis, a new beginning. If you look at the opening chapter of John’s gospel, you’ll see John drawing upon the images of creation as recorded in the first chapter of Genesis. Likewise, Matthew reminds us that this isn’t just an ordinary birth. God is starting anew. 

This is a new beginning, a genesis. In Romans 5, Paul makes this analogy, comparing the works of Adam, who brought death into the world, with the works of Christ, who brings new life.[4] With Christ, our history with the Almighty, with our Creator, a history marred since Adam, starts over.

This new beginning starts with a young woman, not yet married, yet pregnant. Her fiancé, we’re told, is a righteous man. It’s not easy to be an unwed mother today, but an unwed mother in the first century was in a real pickle. She didn’t have the social services we enjoy today to help such individuals and in a harsh religion which frowned on moral failure, such a woman had few options. She and her child would always be a social outcast. But Mary wasn’t just any woman with an out-of-wedlock pregnancy. She was carrying the Messiah… Yet, her situation is precarious considering the pivotal role she plays in salvation history.

As expecedt, this shocks her fiancé We’re told he planned to quickly dismiss Mary which may sound harsh, but not in the culture of that era. He could have gone public and humiliated Mary and, at the same time, made himself look righteous. Because Joseph would have been wronged yet so righteous, his sad eyes would have drawn women. They’d fall at his feet. But instead of boosting himself at Mary’s disgrace, he decides to quietly dismiss her. Joseph would now have to take the heat. It was an honorable thing to do, for he would protect Mary from crowds (after all, there might have been those willing to stone her).

From this story, we learn something about the true nature of righteousness. It’s not just doing what is right according to the laws or customs. It means taking on, at the expense of oneself, the guilt of another. Christ does this for the world. To a lesser but still significant manner, Joseph’s does this for Mary. It’s no longer Mary against the world, but Mary and Joseph and, of course, God. 

The glue holding this passage together is the Holy Spirit. A divine matchmaker, the Spirit impregnates Mary, bringing life into her womb and setting off this genesis, this new beginning. The Spirit also works on the other side of the equation, with Joseph, getting him to buy into the plan. Through a dream, an angel informs Joseph of Mary’s righteousness and God’s plan for the child she carries. When Joseph awakes, he decides not to dismiss Mary, but to go ahead with the wedding. They’ll marry and together raise this child and participate in God’s plan for reconciling himself to a fallen world. Joseph listened to God message in this dream. 

As I’ve shared before, when I was considering seminary, I had several dreams affirming my decision. I’m not sure I would have been as willing and ready to quit a job, sell a house, and move four states away had it not been for those dreams. In one, I found myself asking if it was worth it as I didn’t really think I was cut out for all this. But in this dream, I heard a very distinct voice saying, “Go ahead and go, and when you’re done, you’ll know what you’re to do.” Notice that I did not know where I was going or what it was that I’d be doing. I had to step out in faith, just as Joseph’s decision still required faith. But these dreams gave me the confidence I needed to pack up and head to seminary.  

Joseph’s dream shows us the importance of listening to God and when we listen to God and follow his path, we find peace. Let me clarify. I don’t think listening to God means trying to understand all our dreams. Often our dreams are a way our minds sort out stuff. Instead of investing large amounts of time trying to understand what our dreams tell us, we need prepare ourselves to hear God’s voice by studying Scripture, praying, and being open to hear God by whatever means the divine comes to us. 

God’s word can come many ways: in our sleep, through a thought we have while walking or driving, or in a conversation. It may be spoken through a sarcastic voice in the back of an elevator in a crowded department store. What’s important is that we know God’s word enough to make sure what we hear is from God. Notice in our account today how the angel of the dream reminds Joseph of the prophecies in Scripture. For him, that formed the assurance he needed to know God was behind this.

A second clarification needs to be made is about the meaning of peace. Obviously, if you read beyond the first chapter of Matthew, which we’ll do on the Sundays after Christmas Day, you’ll see that peace eludes Mary and Joseph. They flee as refugees to Egypt to escape Herod. The peace they had, in that little bundle of joy they protect, comes from knowing they’re doing God’s will. God’s Spirit guided them, providing the strength they desperately need. God’s peace doesn’t mean the absence of conflict, but the assurance of God’s presence. As the Psalmist reminds us, it’s the peace that overwhelms us even in the “shadows of death.”[5]   

This passage is about the work of the Holy Spirit, guiding and directing mere mortals, like you and me, to help bring in God’s kingdom. Life is like this. It’s not about us; it’s about God. As for us, today, we, too, need to be open to experiencing that prod from God to take the risk before us. We need to be prodded to step out in faith. God’s Spirit gives us new life. In our prayers, in our Bible Study, in our mediation time, in times of quietness which may only come when we’re asleep, we need to be open to hearing God’s invitation to participate with him in bringing about the kingdom. 

We learn in the first chapter of Matthew that God works through ordinary people. In It’s Up to Us. John Kasich writes, “Leadership comes in all shapes and sizes, but it almost always starts at home and grows from there.”[6] Well, sometimes, it starts in a manger. And it starts when we respond to God’s call, for God can do great things through us, sometimes frightening things, but almost always things we wouldn’t dreamed of doing on our own. 

When we hear God’s call and we answer, God gives us the peace to know that he’s with us and will guide us so that we might do whatever small part we’re called to do to bring about God’s kingdom. Joseph listened to God. Will we? Amen.  

[1] I have told this story several times. I read the story and modified it from one used in a sermon by Dr Clayton Cobb, St Peter’s by the Sea Presbyterian Church, Rancho Palos Verdes, CA.

[2] Tamar (Genesis 38), Rahab (Joshua 2), Ruth (the Moabite with her own book in the Bible) and Bathsheba (2 Samuel 11)

[3] Dale Brunner, The Christbook, Matthew 1-12 (1992, Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 2004), 23.

[4] Romans 5:12-21

[5] Psalm 23.

[6] John Kasich, It’s Up to US: Ten Little Ways We Can Bring About Big Change (Hanover Square Press, 2019), 108.

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Advent 3: The Doubts of the Faithful

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry and Bluemont Churches
December 14, 2025
Matthew 11:2-15

Sermon recorded at Mayberry on Friday, December 12, 2025

At the beginning of worship:
The Chinese have a legend about a man who strayed into the Land of the Fools. In this new country he witnessed a strange sight. People fled in terror from a field at harvest. “A monster,” they yelled. Seeing nothing alarming, the man ventured into the field and discovered the object of everyone’s fear: an overgrown watermelon. 

The stranger offered to kill the monster. He walked into the field and bravely drew his knife and cut the melon from its vine. Lifting the object of their fear for all to see, he cut it in half. Then he dug out some of the center of the melon and ate it.

The people assumed if this man would eat a monster, he’d eat them too. They grabbed their pitchforks and torches crying, “He will kill and eat us, unless we get rid of him. They drove the man from town.

Later, a second man came into the Land of Fools and the same thing happened. But instead of offering to take care of the monster, this man listed to the people. He tiptoed away from the monster, respecting their fear. Slowly, he gained their confidence. He spent time in their homes teaching them. In time, they lost their fear of melons and even began to cultivate them.[1]

Which of these two visiting strangers acted the most like Jesus? 

Before reading the Scripture:
Last week I reminded you the lectionary, which I am preaching from for a few months, devotes two weeks during Advent to John the Baptist. In Matthew’s gospel, the first week is John’s ministry of preparation before Jesus began his ministry. The second week is devoted to a time near the end of John’s life. A few years have passed and John’s in prison. With a lot of time on his hands, he wonders if he got things right. He claimed Jesus to be the Messiah, the coming one, but now he’s not so sure.  

Even saints have doubts and it’s easy to become depressed when you lose control of your life and can do nothing to wait. We need to remember that we’re judged based on our faith, not our doubts, for if we are so sure of things, there would be no need for faith.

Read Matthew 11:2-15

As an unborn child, in his mother’s womb, John recognized the embryotic Jesus in Mary’s womb. We’re told John kicked with joy when Mary, Jesus’ mother, visited Elizabeth.[2]  

On the banks of the Jordan, where John prepared people for the coming of the Messiah, he spots Jesus from a distant and calls out to him. And when Jesus wants to be baptized, John questions the propriety of such an action. After all, he claims not to be worthy to untie his shoes.[3]

But things change. Reports of Jesus activity spreads across the land. It even reaches John, who sits rotting away in prison. With lots of time on his hands, his mind begins to wander. Is Jesus really the one?

As we saw last week, looking at Matthew 3, John expected the Messiah to come in a fury. He would raise his winnowing fork like a sword, ready to separate the chaff from the grain. John depicts a wicked world filled with snakes and sinners in need of repentance. John sees the Messiah’s job to clean up the Israelite’s act. I’m sure he hopes, like most Jews of the time, the Messiah will kick out the Romans and assumes leadership on David’s throne. But the reports out of Galilee depict a gentle man addressing the needs of the people. So, John sends some of his disciples to Jesus to find out if he’s the one. 

This question from John has caused problems for Biblical scholars and theologians for the last two thousand years. After all, those deemed holy shouldn’t have doubts, should they? Did John forget what he said about Jesus?[4] From Origen in the second century, to Augustine in the fourth, and on to Luther and Calvin in the 16thCentury, theologians have pondered this request. They assumed John knew who Jesus was. After all, John picked Jesus out of the crowd. In this understanding, the sending of his disciples to ask this question was to boost John’s disciples’ faith, not his.[5] But such an interpretation makes a lot of assumptions which are not in the text. 

Instead of theologians, maybe we should turn to poets. 

There lives more faith in honest doubt, 
Believe me, than in half the creeds.

The line comes from a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson.[6] Faith lives in doubt, not certainty.

You know, John the Baptist was a strange bird. He spent most of his life out in the wilderness, away from the religious and government establishments and the centers of powers. Out there, on the Jordan River, John freely did his ministry. The powers in Jerusalem happily allowed John to continue his ranting if he dealt only with the sins of the common folk. But when John started talking about the sins of those in power, condemning Herod Antipas for marrying his brother’s wife, he went too far.[7]

Challenging the morals of leaders is dangerous. John ends up in prison. Soon, John will be executed. But now he waits, wondering… “Did I do the right thing?”

Like I said, John may have been like most Jews of his day who saw the Messiah as a militant leader pushing through his agenda and not withholding the use of the sword. Maybe he hoped Jesus would raise a band of men and free him from jail. So, we must wonder about Jesus less-than-direct answer to the question on his identity. Jesus tells John’s disciples to go back and tell them what they see: the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear and the dead raised… This list echoes a list from Isaiah and the teachings from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.[8]  

There’s something interesting thing to note in this list of things Jesus recites as proof as to his identity. Such a list, we assume, goes from minor to major miracles. Jesus starts off with the blind seeing, the lame walking and builds toward the dead being raised. But then, he talks about preaching to the poor. It seems the later would be easier than all the others, but Jesus places it in the place of prominence. Perhaps evangelizing the poor is more important than everything else.[9] This is something we, who make up the church, should ponder.

After John’s disciples leave, Jesus heaps praise on John to the crowd around him. He begins in his classic way of asking a rhetorical question. “What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken by the wind, or a man in fancy clothes. The reed may be a reference to Herod Antipas, who had a palace on the Dead Sea and had coins printed with the image of reeds. If this is the case, Jesus’ metaphor of the reed may have contrasted the weak reeds of political leadership with John, the one who spoke truth to power.[10]

Jesus suggests John is a prophet, but even more than that as he represents Elijah. And don’t forget, Elijah spoke the truth to power as he addressed the sins of Ahab and Jezebel.

If you recall, instead of dying, a fiery chariot swept Elijah off his feet and whisked him away.[11] Many Jews, to this day, leave an empty seat at Passover for Elijah. Jesus suggests John’s role is like Elijah, preparing the way for the Messiah.

Probably the most difficult part of this passage to understand is verse 12. Our text reads, “From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and violent people take it by force.” But the passage can also be translated as “From the days of John until now the kingdom of heaven has been coming violently.”[12]

This translation could be referring to the many violent revolutions occurring before and after Jesus’ life. The revolutionaries attempted to throw off Roman bondage and reinstitute a Jewish state. They finally succeeded in 66 AD, the year Herod’s temple was finally finished. But it was short-lived. The Romans returned in in 70 AD, defeating the Jews and destroying the temple. 

But violence wasn’t in Jesus’ plans, as he makes clear in his response to John’s question. Maybe John, sitting in prison, hoped Jesus would change his mind and pick up the sword, but Jesus sends back a message which focused on his mercy and kindness. 

As we wait during the season of Advent, we need to remember why Jesus came. The Prince of Peace, he avoided violence, even at the end by telling Peter to put away his sword.[13] He spent time connecting with people. Like the stranger in the Chinese legend I shared at the beginning of worship, he gently taught people what’s important. 

During Advent, we long for the cosmic Christ to return and do battle with the forces of evil, but we shouldn’t forget that our Lord’s greatest strength comes from his gentleness and his love. And as his followers, we’re to emulate his behavior as outlined in his reply to John. Amen.

[1] William R. White, Stories for the Journey (Minneapolis,  Augsburg Press, 1988), 107-108.

[2] Luke 1:41.

[3] Matthew 3:13-17. See also Luke 3:16-17 and John 1:29-30.

[4] Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1992), 120.

[5] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Christbook: Matthew 1-12 (1987, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 506

[6] Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam, XCVI, as quoted by Malcom Guite, Waiting on the Word (London: Canterbury Press, 2015), 50.  

[7] Matthew 14:3-6

[8][8] Isaiah 61:1 and 35:5. Hare,121 and Bruner, 507.

[9] Bruner, 508.

[10] Hare, 122.

[11] 2 Kings 2:1-12.

[12] Robert H. Gundry, Matthew: A Commentary on his Literary and Theological Art, (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982), 209.

[13] Matthew 26:52, Luke 22:49-50, and John 18:10-11. John’s gospel identifies the disciple who drew his sword as Peter. 

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Advent 2: The Preaching of John the Baptist

title slide with photo of churches decorated for Christmas

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry & Bluemont Churches
Matthew 3:1-12
December 7, 2025

At the beginning of worship:

Two preachers on their day off, fished at a river by a road. Before sitting on the bank, where they watched their corks with hope a fish would be soon tugging, they posted a sign by the road. It read, “The end is near! Turn yourself around before it’s too late.” 

A few minutes later a car flew by. Seeing the sign and the preachers, the driver yelled out, “Keep your religion to yourselves, you fanatics.” He hit the gas, sending rocks flying and dust swirling as he rounded the curve. 

A moment later, braking tires crunched over the gravel. Then came a big splash. 

One of the preachers looked at the other and said, “Maybe we should have just written, ‘Bridge Out’?”

The lectionary, on the second and third Sundays of Advent, focus on John the Baptist. At a time, we’re getting excited about Christmas joy, we hear the rantings of a crazy prophet calling us to repentance. 

Before reading the scripture:

Why do we only find the story of Jesus’ birth in two of the gospels, while the story of John the Baptist preparing the way for the Messiah shows up in all four of the gospels? And all four gospels link back to Isaiah, that voice howling out in the wilderness.[1]Scripture demands we contend with the story of John the Baptist, even more so than the birth stories of our Savior. What are we being told here? How does the fire and brimstone preaching of John the Baptist prepare us for the loving message of Jesus? 

If we want to get to the good news, we must face the bad. Before we can accept a Savior, we must comprehend our own issues. We’re sinners. So, let’s listen to what John has to say to us. 

Read Matthew 3:1-12

I wonder about John’s message. It’s so harsh, maybe he should have toned down his words, like the two fishing pastors I told you about at the beginning of worship. Repeatedly, John talks of fire, and not the warming flames of a campfire, but the ominous fire like those recently experienced in Hong Kong where numerous high rises burned.[2] John’s dangerous fire consumes and purifies. 

“You brood of vipers,” John calls the religious leaders of the day. That doesn’t sound very loving, does it? Jesus would never say that, would he? Actually, Jesus’ does. Twice in Matthew’s gospel.[3] What does this phrase, which Matthew liked so much that he recalled it three times, mean? And how does this relate to a loving God? 

Law and gospel must go together. In scripture, law came at Sinai during the Exodus and the gospel came roughly1400 years later with the exemplary life, atoning death and glorious resurrection of Jesus. John is the last in a series of prophets who show our failure of abiding by the law as he calls us to clean up our acts. God is doing something new and marvelous. We need to be ready! All this talk about fire and calling people snakes catches their attention. It also catches our attention. We’re forced to examine our own failings so that we might repent and follow Jesus. 

Law and gospel, go together. To understand the story of scripture, we can’t just push off the “law” parts of the Bible and only focus on the gospel. The gospel makes no sense without the law. The gospel is about how God saves us from our failures, our sin. John provides those listening to his preaching with a choice. They can confess their sins and begin the process of repentance. Repentance means to turn around or to start in a new direction. They had to leave sin behind as they joyfully accept what new God activity within their midst. 

So, why does John call the religious teachers and leaders of the day a brood of vipers? That’s a harsh term. It conjures up nightmares, a den full of snakes, a place for Indiana Jones but not the rest of us. In the desert, you must be careful trying to find shade under a rock overhang or in a grotto or cave. Snakes tend to gather in such places to avoid the heat of the day. You might not want to mess with them. By using snakes as an illustration, John implies their words are poisonous. 

Consider this: both the leaders of the day and John took seriously the sins of the people. But the difference is that the leaders of the day taught that people must justify themselves before God through an elaborate system of sacrifices, whereas John twists the concern of sin around to where people confess their sins, so that they might be washed of them as symbolized in baptism.[4]

All this comes back to God doing something new. With John the Baptist, God paves the way for his Son to come on the scene and to teach people a new way to live and to be human. To prepare for something new, people must admit their own sinfulness and to realize they long for something better. Of course, if we don’t think we need to be better, there’s a warning here. Judgment for transgressing the law hangs over our heads. If we ignore our sinfulness, we die to the law? Or, we accept and confess our sinfulness and embrace the grace that Jesus’ offers? Those are our choices.

Advent is the time for us to prepare for the loving tenderness shown by Jesus. If God redeems this world, if God promises a new heaven and a new earth, we should want to be ready. But to receive God’s gift, we must leave the past behind. We must be willing to examine deep within our souls and to offer up all that’s not godly so that we might be both cleansed of our sin and have the room to accept Christ into our hearts. We must be willing to allow ourselves to be transformed into something new and better. For Advent is a time not only to remember that Christ came, but that he will come again. We must be ready.

Your assignment for this week (and every week) is to examine yourself, your words, your thoughts, your actions. What have you done that’s not been Christ-like? Have you harbored bitterness or showed unkindness or said things which twisted the truth or belittled another? We all do such things. But we need to bring our guilt to God. That’s what John encourages. Get rid of the darkness by bringing it to the light. 

We must not just prepare ourselves; we should prepare the church, which, in the final event of history, becomes the bride of Christ.[5]That means the church must confront all we’ve done that’s not holy, and there’s been a lot. From the crusades to the inquisition and witch-hunts, from the support of slavery and conquest to our tendency to huddle into crowds of similar people and turn our backs on the world for which Christ came and gave his life. The earthly church has not always been holy. 

We need to confess this! John’s call to the religious establishment of the day still holds. Are we willing to confess our shortcomings and to be open to what God is doing in the world? That means we must give up control, for this enterprise known as the church isn’t about us. It’s about God. It’s about us bringing glory to God as we serve as the hands and the feet of our Lord in the world. 

Is there joy in this passage? Yes, but we must get beyond the call to prepare, which John focuses on, and realize God’s activities which occur in the background. We trust in a God of resurrection. Even if the world destroys itself, God won’t let that be the final word. God wants to remake us. John’s role is to prepare us. Our role is to respond to John’s call to repentance so we might be open to what God is doing in our lives and in our fellowship. Confession and repentance may not be in favor in today’s secular world, but in the church, it’s where we begin. All of us need to take a deep look at ourselves and then turn to God and fall on our knees… Amen. 

[1] Isaiah 40:3-5. Frederick Dale Bruner, The Christbook, Matthew 1-12 (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 2004), 88. 

[2] ttps://abcnews.go.com/International/death-toll-climbs-146-hong-kong-high-rise/story?id=127977217

[3] Matthew 12:34 and 23:33.

[4] Bruner, 89.  Bruner attributes this idea of a shift from justifying to accusing to Matthew Henry’s Commentary (1721).

[5] Revelation 21:2.

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Advent 1: Be Prepared

Title slide with photos of Mayberry Church window decorated for Christmas and Bluemont Church outside decorated

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry and Bluemont Churches
November 30, 2025
Matthew 24:36-44

A crisis looms. The days grow shorter. Time is of the essence. There’s only four more weeks till Christmas. Sometime on Christmas Eve, if you haven’t gotten all your presents, the stores lock their doors—which for some stores is the only time the doors will be locked all year—and it will be too late. You’ll be left empty handed. 

A crisis looms. Sadly, for many people, Advent is about avoiding the crunch by shopping early. Of course, there are those of us who don’t shop early. We may be like Garrison Keillor’s family: “Sanctified Brethren” who didn’t shop early because they felt Christ’s return was imminent. It wouldn’t look right to have a bunch of presents around as if we weren’t expecting him to come so soon. 

Others of us don’t shop early for a myriad of reasons, but mainly procrastination. We get to spend Advent worrying about how to procure this year’s hot gifts for loved ones. 

Advent reminds us to be ready, but not for gifts. As Christmas focuses on Jesus’ first coming, we prepare ourselves for his return, whether in person or at the end of our lives. 

Before reading the scripture: 

For the next few months, I plan to preach from the Revised Common Lectionary. The gospel reading for today, the first Sunday of Advent, reminds us to be ready for Jesus’ coming. Four times in these verses from Matthew 24, we’re told that either the Son of Man or the Lord is coming. This passage warns us. Be prepared. But, this passage also reminds us of the futility of predicting his return. Instead, we’re to live with hope that while things may be rough, as Jesus outlined earlier in this chapter, it won’t last forever.[1]

Read Matthew 24:36-44

I love to be outside during the predawn hours of morning. All nature, at least all nature that’s not locked up in a house, anticipates dawn. In warmer months, birds sing while it’s still dark. If any of your neighbors have chickens, roosters crow. Deer and other animals make a last trip to their watering hole. Even in winter, when the air is the coldest in the predawn, you sense nature anticipating the dawning of a new day.

This is the end of the good fishing season along the coast of North Carolina. From early October through mid- December, fishing is at its best. Growing up there along the coast, we did a lot of camping on barrier islands during the fall. We’d fish late in the evening and then get up before sunrise. Crawling out of our sleeping bags, someone would light the lantern and stove. Soon, coffee perked as we pulled on clothes and waders. After quickly downing coffee and devouring a Little Debby’s oatmeal cookie or two, we gathered our rods and walked across the dunes to the edge of the surf.  

At first, the darkness required you to bait your hooks with a flashlight. Unable even to see your line, you casted blindly into the surf, set your line, and waited for a strike. Generally, it’d start slow. We watched the eastern sky grow brighter. One by one the stars disappeared. Sirius was the last to go, followed shortly by the planets Jupiter and Venus, if they happened to be in the morning sky. Slowly the eastern horizon became lighter, while we shivered. But we kept fishing. We knew the best time to catch a mess of fish was in those moments between night and day which Francis Scott Key labeled the “dawn’s early light.” We had to remain diligent. On mornings when bluefish or trout were running, your line would suddenly squeal, often occurring in the minutes right before the sun’s rays raced across the ocean.  

For some reason, the action slowed down as soon as the sun was fully up. Then it’d be all over and time to leisurely head back to camp for more coffee and to roast a fresh bluefish over the coals for breakfast.

The Apostle Paul said in his letter to Romans: “Salvation is nearer to us now than when we first became believers. The night is far-gone. Day is near. Let us lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.”[2] We need to be ready.  When fishing, if you weren’t ready, you’d miss the chance to catch the big one. The same is true with Christ’s return. We don’t want to miss the opportunity to be reunited with our Lord.

There are two things Jesus makes abundantly clear in this text. No one knows where he will return. When he does returns, many people will be so immersed in their own lives they’ll not be ready.

Jesus says his return will be like the days of Noah. People eat and drink and marry and so forth. In other words, they won’t pay attention to what’s happening around them until it’s too late. We might imagine all kinds of bad and evil things people were doing in Noah’s day. But that may not be the case. It sounds as if they just lived their lives. These things are not necessarily bad, unless it kept them from paying attention to God. 

Jesus doesn’t say the people in Noah’s day were any worse than they were during the first century or even today. Jesus isn’t referring to evil deeds here. The Bible doesn’t say we can’t or shouldn’t do these things. We must eat if we want to live. Scripture condemns gluttony but not eating. Drinking isn’t necessarily drunkenness, which is condemned. Marriage certainly isn’t adultery or lust, which is condemned.  

In this verse, Jesus parallels eating and drinking, marriage and giving in marriage in a way like how we might say fishing and hunting, or dining and dancing. He’s not saying they’re wrong. The exception is when people became so preoccupied with performing these tasks they’re not aware of what’s going on around them. They’re preoccupied with themselves! They are concerned for their own needs, their own lives and the lives of their families that they neglect their spiritual needs. They don’t prepare themselves for eternity.

Starting in verse forty, we have an image of two people in a field. One is taken; another left behind. Two women grind grain. One is taken; another left behind. Put this passage together with one from First Thessalonians and you can come up with a best-selling work of fiction, the Left Behind Series.[3] But instead of running off in that direction, we need to consider what Jesus is talking about here. 

The middle part of this passage, verses 40 to 42, is inserted between two short parables which serve as bookends. The first is about those in Noah’s day not being aware of what was happening. The second parable is about a homeowner who, if he knew when a thief was coming, would remain awake. Of course, you can’t stay awake all the time, so we prepare to stop the thief before he comes.  

This passage isn’t really about Jesus’ return. Hear me out. We’re given no foresight in these verses into how Jesus will show up. Instead, it’s a reminder of our need to prepare for his return. To put it in another context, we prepare to return home, for earth is not our true home. You know, we do a lot to prepare for the holidays. Baking, decorating, wrapping presents, and so forth. But what do we do to prepare ourselves for meeting our Creator?  What do we do to prepare ourselves for eternity? This passage reminds us that God has a claim on us. When we fail to take this claim seriously, we act foolish. For we don’t know when we must give an account of our lives. Jesus may return this today, or he may hold off another thousand years, we don’t know. As individuals, we may live to be a hundred or we may walk in front of a truck this afternoon, we don’t know. Therefore, it’s foolish to put off making things right with God.

Now let me address an issue that may arise in some of your minds. Just as this passage is more about preparing ourselves for meeting Jesus, whether he returns or when we die, likewise the passage isn’t about the hereafter. Don’t become, as the cliché goes, “so heavenly minded that you’re of no earthly good.” This isn’t Jesus’ intention. 

Such ideas run counter to the Sermon on the Mount recorded earlier in Matthew’s gospel. “Do not worry about your life, what you’ll drink or eat or wear… Consider the lilies of the field…  Don’t worry about tomorrow…  Today’s trouble is enough for today.”[4]Jesus encourages us not to worry about those things we can’t control. Since we can’t control when Jesus returns, we certainly shouldn’t worry about it. Instead, be prudent. Be prepared.  

We should take inventory of our lives. Where are we not reflecting God’s glory. We’re to confess our sins, we’re to repent and change our ways. We’re to forgive one another and restore relationships with our brothers and sisters. And we’re to accept the love God shows us through Jesus and live as his disciple. If we live in such a manner, there is no reason to worry.  

Don’t put off the important stuff. If you need to reconcile with God, do it now. Don’t let important things slide. That’s the message of Advent! Amen.

[1] See Matthew 24:1-28.  Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (1990, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 522. 

[2] Romans 13:11-12.

[3] See 1 Thessalonians 4:13-17. “Taken away for salvation” is a better interpretation of rapture. Bruner, 526. 

[4] Matthew 6:19ff

[5] As referred to by M. Craig Barnes in Searching for Home: Spirituality for Restless Souls (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2003), 60.  See Dietrich Bonhoeffer, John Doberstein translator, Life Together (New York: Harper & Row, 1954), 26.

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Easter Sunday 2023

photo of dogwood in bloom in front of Bluemont Church

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry & Bluemont Churches
Easter Sunday, April 9, 2023
Matthew 28:1-15

At the beginning of worship:

The resurrection happened on the first of the week. It did not happen on the Sabbath, the holy day, but on what in the first century was a workday. Something new occurs. The Sabbath ends at sunset and before the sun rises, the women head to the tomb. God, in Jesus Christ, is resurrected and as Christians, we now hollow this day, the first day of the week, the day of resurrection.[1]

Before reading the Scripture:

We’re reading this morning from Matthew. We might think of this as the story of the resurrection, but that’s not right. None of the gospels tell us about the resurrection itself. Instead, we’re told of the encounters the women and disciples had with the resurrected Christ. The resurrection remains shrouded in mystery, for when the two Marys arrived at the tomb, Jesus was no longer there. Matthew always reminds us that from the beginning there was an effort to cover up what had happened. Listen.

Read Matthew 28:1-15

Once there was a man with a pet lamb. He fed it by hand and played with it every day. When hard times came, he was forced to take his pet lamb to the market to sell. Now there were three thieves who heard of the man’s plan and plotted to take it away from him in a clever way.

Early in the morning the man rose and put the lamb on his shoulder and began the journey to the market. As he traveled down the road, the first thief approached him and asked, “Why are you carrying that dog on your shoulder?” The man laughed, “This is not a dog, it’s my pet lamb and I am taking him to market.

After he walked a little farther the second thief crossed his path and said, “What a fine dog you have there. Where are you taking it?” Puzzled, the man took the lamb off his shoulders and looked carefully at it. “This is not a dog,” he said slowly. “It is a lamb, and I am taking it to market.”

Shortly before he reached the market the third thief met the man and said, “Sir, I don’t think they will allow you to take your dog into the market.” Completely confused, the man took his lamb off his shoulders and sat it on the ground. “If three people say that this is a dog, then surely it must be a dog,” he thought. He left the lamb behind and walked to the market. If he had bothered to look back, he would have seen the thieves picking up his lamb and running off with it.[2]

Are we like the man and the lamb?

Those of us who make up the Christian Church are often like the man with the lamb. We lose our focus by allowing other people’s opinions to shape our vision. To appease the world, some try to conform the gospel to science and popular opinion and end up not knowing what we believe.    

The gospel truth

The truth of the Christian faith is that God raised Jesus from the dead. It is not something we can prove. Paul himself, in the first century, admitted that it makes no sense outside of faith, that to non-believers it’s mere foolishness.[3] Our belief in the resurrection cannot be based on empirical evidence. The resurrection is about God’s power, but the story itself must be accepted on faith.  

Do people really know what we celebrate today? For some, the idea that Jesus laid in a tomb deader than a doornail and then raised from the dead is a scandal. It’s easier for them to believe the disciples stole the body. Or perhaps, today, it’s easier to believe in some silly bunny, a rabbit who should be the patron saint of dentists, bringing chocolates to the kids. 

What are we celebrating?

Or maybe Easter is about the rite of spring. As a child, we brought out our spring clothes on Easter. We took pictures of the family, generally in front of an azalea which bloomed in Eastern North Carolina this time of year. 

On Easter, girls once again could wear white shoes. They were allowed them to till Labor Day. Guys could wear lighter colored jackets. I’m not sure who the fashion police were back then, but many mothers lived in fear of them. 

Easter has become a holiday whom marketers embrace to sell candy, flowers, hams, and clothes. So, is it any wonder, according to a Gallup poll I heard many years ago, 25% of people in church on Easter Sunday don’t know what they were celebrating?  

Forgiveness and Hope: The Church’s gift to the world

Have we, followers of Jesus and members of his church become so lackadaisical that we no longer know what we are all about? Jesus Christ has given the Church two primary things to offer the world which no other organization has: FORGIVENESS AND HOPE. Forgiveness centers around the events on Good Friday, on Jesus’ death for our sin. As Peter wrote in his first epistle, “Christ bore our sins in his body on the cross that we might die from sin and live for righteousness.”[4]

Hope is based on the events of Easter morning itself, of the tomb being empty. It was there in those early morning hours the women and the disciples learned that God’s power is greater than all the powers of evil combined. God’s power extends over the grave. As Christ’s Church, we offer forgiveness and hope to the world, telling the gospel story repeatedly to each new generation.

The Two mary’s and the tomb

According to Matthew, the two Marys went to Jesus’ tomb early in the morning on the first day of the week. It was not yet dawn, but the Sabbath was over. But it was still dark. Anxiety, uncertainty, and fear lurk in the darkness. 

Did the women know what to expect at sunrise? It’s doubtful. Two of the other gospels tell us they planned to prepare Jesus’ body for its eternal rest, a required task.[5] Besides, psychologically, this ritual would help them put the death of Jesus behind them and allow them to get on with their lives.

Things happened quickly that morning. There’s an earthquake, then there’s an angel rolling back the stone. Ironically, the guards froze, as if they were dead. Matthew has fun here; the guards that are alive are as if they are dead, while the one who was supposed to be dead in the tomb is out and walking around.

The Earthquake and the coming of the end

Furthermore, the earthquake symbolizes the end of the old order. In Chapter 24, Jesus told the disciples there would be earthquakes before the end and we’ve now witnessed two earthquakes in three days![6] The end is upon us, having begun with the death and resurrection of Jesus. God’s kingdom replaces the older order.. We’re in the last days.[7]

The women are shocked with fear with not only the earthquake, but an angel descending from above and rolling away the stone covering the tomb. Notice, however, this isn’t the resurrection. The angel reassures them that Jesus has already risen and orders them to tell the disciples to meet him in Galilee. Think about this, the resurrection has already occurred. The stone rolled away just opens the tomb, its emptiness serving as evidence of the resurrection. 

Suddenly, the women’s lives are changed. They run and tell disciples, only to be surprised when Jesus appears to them. Jesus calls out to them, using a Greek word translated in most Bibles as “Greetings,” but a better translation might be “Rejoice!”[8] “Rejoice” conveys more feeling and power than “greetings” which is just a simple hello. Jesus’ words shock the women, and in awe, they kneel at his feet and worship him.

He gives the women the same instructions as the angel, with only one slight, but very important difference. “Do not be afraid,” he says, “go and tell my brothers that I will see them in Galilee.” No longer are Jesus’ followers just disciples, they are now his brothers.

Go! Run! Tell!

GO! TELL! RUN! These verbs used by Matthew create sense of movement and urgency to get the message out, to let the disciples know that God has raised Jesus Christ. The followers of Jesus had gone to bed on the Sabbath thinking that it was all over. Their friend Jesus had met his end on the cross. But on Easter morning, an open tomb shadows the cross and because of God’s love and action, the followers of Jesus once again have hope. 

GO! TELL! RUN! It’s imperative that the message gets out and is spread across the world. Jesus Christ is risen, today!

we accept the resurrection on faith

As I’ve indicated, we accept the resurrection on faith, not on empirical evidence. Obviously, Matthew is not interested in “proving” the resurrection. He tells the story from the eyes of two women, and you may remember that women in 1st century Palestine did not even have the right to testify in court. They would not have been considered creditable witnesses. The disciples were called to believe by faith. By faith they had left their former trades and followed Jesus and by faith they set out for Galilee to see the resurrected Lord. 

Like the disciples, we too are called to believe by faith. If we believe by faith, Jesus promises his presence and we will witness his glory.  

That first Easter began somewhat obscurely during the coolness of an early morning on the first day of the week. A few women, a disciple or two, and a few guards were all who experienced it and knew that something special had happened. 

Most everyone else in Jerusalem, as in the rest of the world, continue with their lives as if nothing happened. But soon the message spread. We are not told how the resurrection happens; only that it changed the disciples. It also has the power to change us.

GO! RUN! TELL! The urgency of those words still applies to you and me. Our troubled world needs to hear about God’s love and power. We may be hopeless like the disciples on that Holy Saturday. But because of God’s power, things can change. God is in control, and we see evidence of this when life is the darkest. Don’t believe the naysayers. Place your trust in a God who has power over the grave. It’s our only hope. Amen. 

[1]Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28), (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 779-780.

[2] William R. White, Stories for the Journey (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1988) 26-7.

[3] See I Corinthians 1:18-31.

[4] 1 Peter 2:24.                        

[5] The other gospels also include different women attending the grave, but they all include Mary Magdalene. Mark says they were to anoint the body (Mark 16:1; Luke says they came with prepared spices (Luke 24:1), John doesn’t mention spices and has Mary Magdalene coming to the tomb by herself.  

[6] Matthew 24:7. The first earthquake occurred during the crucifixion. See Matthew 27:51.

[7] See Bruner, 781-782.

[8] Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew (Louisville: John Knox’s, 1993) p. 330.

Bluemont Church with blooming dogwood
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Palm Sunday, 2023

title slide, photo of trees blowing in wind

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
April 2, 2023
Matthew 21:1-12

Sermon recorded at Bluemont on March 31, 2023

At the beginning of worship:

Who is Jesus? And what does it mean to follow him? How would you answer these questions? What difference does the first question, who’s Jesus, make in our lives? How does it guide our attempts at following him? Ponder these questions as we worship. They were questions that was being asked the first Palm Sunday, too. 

Before the reading of Scripture

Last week, we’ve finished working through Peter’s first epistle. This week, as today is Palm Sunday, we’re looking into the gospel of Matthew. In the 19th Chapter, we’re told that Jesus leaves Galilee, heading to Jerusalem. A large crowd follows him.[1] He now arrives. All four of the gospels tell of Jesus’ entry into the city and each provides different insights. We refer to this day as Palm Sunday, but only one of the gospels, John’s, tells us the crowd waved palm branches.[2] Matthew just says they cut branches and spread them on the road. It appears to have been a joyful party, but as we know the joy of the day will quickly fade as the week wears on. 


Read Matthew 21:1-11

One Summer: America 1927

I have been listening to a book by Bill Bryson, titled One Summer: America 1927. It was an amazing summer in our nation. Babe Ruth was knocking the ball out of the park. He set a home run record for a season that stood until Roger Maris came along. President Calvin Coolidge, not known as a man of many words, made a sparse announcement when on vacation in South Dakota. He would not seek his party’s nomination for the Presidency in 1928. Also in South Dakota, workers were carving out the faces of Presidents on Mount Rushmore. Ford Motor Company shut down the manufacturing of Model Ts and retooled for the Model A. 

But probably the most exciting thing to happen in the summer of 1927 was the race to fly a plane from New York to Paris. The excitement focused on large planes with crews, but in came a lone pilot with backing from some businesses in St. Louis. Charles Lindberg, flying the Spirit of St. Louis, he won the prize. When he returned to America, he received, up to this point in history, the largest ticket-tape parade in New York City. Tons of paper was thrown out the windows along the parade route.[3]

Of course, looking back at 1927, it seemed so idyllic. As a nation, America was on the top of the world. Few people were aware that just around the corner the Great Depression would descend. And after that, there would be war unlike the world had ever seen.[4]We might draw a similar analogy to this day in Jerusalem in roughly 30 AD. Excited people shouted “Hosanna.” Everyone was excited. But darkness would descend and a few days later some of those same people would shout, “Crucify.”

Our text begins with Jesus and the crowd approaching the Holy City. Around the Mount of Olives, Jesus sends a couple of his disciples into a village ahead to procure an animal for him to ride into the city. We’re not told Jesus had all this worked out in advance. There’s a mystery here. How did Jesus know that there would be a donkey and a colt waiting? Was he somehow able to work it out in advance, without anyone knowing? In the days of walking, that seems unlikely. After all, he couldn’t call ahead. 

Or did Jesus employ his divine powers? We’re not told. The same goes with the response Jesus gives the disciples if they’re challenged for taking the animals. Tell them the master needs it. What farmer would lend out their beasts of burdens without collateral and with just the promise that this unseen master would return it?

If I’d been one of the disciples, I might have resisted. Why go into the unknown when you could return to a place you already been? Why take part in what feels like petty larceny? Of course, there were no Avis donkey rentals back then. But still, it seems strange. I’d prefer Jesus to tell me to go back to that place where we saw a donkey waiting by the road and where they knew the owner. But Jesus always calls us into an unknown future.[5]

I had this conversation with a parishioner this week about no knowing what’s next in our lives. It’s often scary if we pause long enough to think about our situations. We’re called to go forward, into new territory, trusting that Jesus, the good shepherd, travels with us. 

Matthew tells us that what happened fulfilled prophecy and then quotes from the Prophet Zechariah a passage about our king coming, humbled, and riding on a donkey.[6] The disciples are told in Matthew to bring two animals, a donkey and a colt. This has created some confusion. Did Jesus ride both animals, balancing up on the backs of each like some kind of circus performance? Maybe he even held the reigns in his teeth as he waved to the crowd? Probably not. Matthew also emphasizes the humility of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, and that would be showing off.[7] More likely, Jesus rode the donkey while the colt, perhaps not even weaned, tailed behind, staying close to his mom.[8]

We’re told the disciples put their cloaks on the donkey for Jesus to ride it. Donkeys are not normally ridden straddled, like a horse. Instead, the rider sits to the side of the beast. Other cloaks were spread on the path, along with tree branches. The crowd began together as they approached the city walls. As they are pilgrims coming for the Passover, they cry out the words from Psalm 118, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest.”

Psalm 118 celebrates victory. God has given victory to the one coming into the city who then returns thanks for God’s steadfast love. God has taken the stone discarded by the builders and made it the cornerstone.[9] The Psalm captures the hope of the people that there be a new king on David’s throne, but in a way this Psalm seems out of place. While the Psalm celebrates victory,[10] Jesus heads to his death. And while his followers at this point don’t understand, Jesus knows.[11] The weight of this knowledge must have weighed heavy on his heart. They cheer Jesus on, a truth that should hang over us on Palm Sunday, for the crowd will soon turn on Jesus and demand he be crucified. 

But before that, they wonder, “Who is this?” This little parade seems to have really shaken Jerusalem. Our translation, in verse 10, said the whole city was in turmoil, but the word used in Greek for turmoil, is the Greek word from where get the word seismic. In other words, the city was shaken to the core, as if in an earthquake.[12]

This word is used only in three places in Matthew’s gospel. The first is when the Magi come to Jerusalem asking about the birth of the Messiah.[13] The people in the city were bothered. Why did they need a king when they had Herod. The second time is here. The word will be used once more, on the day we recall this Friday, during the crucifixion. That was when a real, not metaphorical seismic event happened. There was a real earthquake. At that time the temple curtain ripped into two halves while graves opened.[14]

So, the crowds ask who this Jesus is. I assume those with Jesus pointed out that he is a prophet from Nazareth. But, of course, Jesus is more than a prophet. In the week ahead, we’ll see that he’s also the Chief Priest, and the sacrifice. And then, we’ll learn of his defeat of death and that he is a king that is above all kings. But that’s to come. 

We’re left this Sunday with the question of the crowd. Who is this man we call Jesus? And if we believe he is the King as well as the Prophet and Priest, then how do we respond to him? Are we willing to go into the future where we have no control but can only trust him. For that’s what we’re called to do. Amen.  

[1] Matthew 19:1-2.

[2] John 12:13.

[3] Bill Bryson, One Summer: America 1927 (Random House, 2013).

[4] Bryson discusses a secret meeting by the head of the Federal Reserve along with banks in Great Britain, France, and Germany, whose decisions have been partly to blame for the worldwide Depression. 

[5] This idea came from MaryAnn McKibben Dana’s sermon on this passage on the website, “A Sermon for Every Sunday.   

[6] Zechariah 9:9.

[7] Mathew leaves out a piece of what Zechariah said. The prophet said, “triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey…” The “triumphant” part is missing in Matthew, as he emphasizes the humility of Jesus. See Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 355.

[8]See Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation, a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993), 238-239. 

[9] Psalm 118:22.

[10] Everything said in the Psalm “portrays the celebrant’s deliverance as the work of the Lord.” James L. Mays, Psalms: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994), 377. 

[11] According to Matthew, at this point, Jesus has referred to his upcoming death three times, the last being in Matthew 20:17-19.

[12] Chelsey Harmon, “Matthew 21:1-11 Commentary. See https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2023-03-27/matthew-211-11-2   See also Bruner, 357. 

[13] Matthew 2:4.

[14] Matthew 27:51-52.

trees lining a road
The wind has blown hard for the past 24 hours.
Yesterday, the branches were waving as if they lined the parade route.
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A shoot from a dead tree & the peaceful kingdom

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
December 4, 2022, Advent 2
Isaiah 11:1-10

At the beginning of worship: 

I can’t imagine what these mountains where we live looked like at the beginning of the 20th Century. In the mix of the trees were chestnuts, giants that grew straight. Chestnuts provided not only strong and rot-resistant wood for building, but they also gave an abundance of nuts. Our pioneer ancestors would gather them for eating. Furthermore, they were a cash crop that could be sold to supplement one’s livelihood. By the mid 1920s, long before any of us were here, they were gone. 

A fungus introduced in the United States in 1904, when some Asian chestnuts were brought to New York, spread into the American chestnut population. An estimate of 4 billion chestnuts trees died in the Appalachian Mountains alone. It is thought that one in every four hardwoods died. But still, in places, from old chestnut stumps, new growth sprouts. The sprout grows tall and straight. It looks promising. But before it matures, it too succumbs to the blight. Hopefully, one day, scientists can find a way for these trees to dominate the landscape once again.

A shoot for a stump

A shoot coming up from the roots of a dead tree is a sign of hope, as we’re going to see in text today. Advent is a season in which we are reminded that we live in a world that’s not our home. Our world is like a stump, in need of new life. We long for a better home, which will require God’s invention. God can do things that has mostly alluded scientist for the past 100 years—giving growth that continues from a stump that appears dead. As followers of Jesus, hold on to this hope. 

Before the reading of Scripture

Today, I’m going to read two passages of scripture for the sermon. The first is from Matthew’s gospel, in which we hear that madman John the Baptist rail against the people of his day. John knew something was happening and he wanted people to prepare by repenting and changing their ways. John speaks to our world today, and the need we have to prepare ourselves for God’s coming. I’m not going to say much about John in the sermon, but let’s hear his words and be reminded of the type of world in which we live. Are any of us fully content here? I hope not. I hope we long for a better world. 

We get a glimpse of this better world my second reading from Isaiah. We hear of a shoot growing from a stump and catch a vision of life as God intends. 

Read Matthew 3:1-12 and Isaiah 11:1-10

Edward Hicks

You know, sometimes artists appear to be in a rut. Think of Monet and his 250-some paintings of water lilies. Another such painter is Edward Hicks, a 19th Century Pennsylvanian artist whose favorite subject was “The Peaceful Kingdom.” Hicks painted an untold number of canvases that depict the scene we just heard from Isaiah. All the animals are at peace: predators and prey, along with children and snakes. The National Galley in Washington, DC have several of Hick’s paintings. If you are there, check them out. While you can look at his paintings in a book or on the internet, there is something about seeing it in person. 

Hicks’ mother died when he was 18 months old. Being unable to care for him, his father shipped him off to friends who raised him. Then he moved into a coach makers home, where he worked as an apprentice. He became known for his illustrations on the side of the horse drawn carriages he painted. This resulted in people asking him to paint furniture and signs. He was later given commissions for paintings to decorate walls. 

Depicting Biblical Scene

Hicks joined the Quaker Church. This created a tension with his art because Quakers were plain folk who shunned art for art’s sake. He then began to use art to interpret scripture, especially the peacefulness sought by Quakers. This is when he began his lifelong obsession with “The Peaceful Kingdom.”[1] I wonder if Monet and his waterlilies and Hicks and his peaceful kingdom were attempts to get it right. By painting the same scenes over and over, were they striving for perfection? It will take a lot of work to achieve such a kingdom. In fact, we can’t do it ourselves. Only God can bring such a kingdom about. 

The curse of Genesis 3 is remove

But just because we can’t, by ourselves, bring such a kingdom about, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t think about it. Instead, we should mediate upon it, and ponder how we might help demonstrate the kingdom to the world. In doing so, we instill hope. Our passage from Isaiah showsthat the curse of the fall, from Genesis 3, has been removed. In the curse, the woman’s and the serpent’s descendants are to be in constant battle. Humans stomp on snakes while they bite at our heels.[2]But in Isaiah, and in the paintings, a child is safe around a poisonous snake. 

Now, I know my mother thoughts of heaven would be a warm place without snakes. She was afraid of them and didn’t want us to have anything to do with them. But perhaps this idea of the child and the snake being together is an example of how, in heaven, we’ll get along even with our enemies. 

Animals living in harmony

Furthermore, in this scene, as I’ve said, we have the predator and the prey lying together. Woody Allen once quipped, “the day may come when the lion will lie down with the lamb, but the lamb won’t get much sleep.”[3] Like the child, the ancient enemies in this imagined world are no more. No longer do the weak have to be concerned about being consumed by the powerful. Predators and bullies and rouge nations are no more. Everyone looks out for everyone else. That’s the Christian hope. We won’t be able to do this on our own. We’ll have to depend upon God. Thankfully, we worship a God of miracles who sent his only Son into our world. And that child, born in Bethlehem, gives us a vision of the kingdom that is coming. 

Two parts to this reading from Isaiah

There are two parts our reading from Isaiah. I’ve discussed the second one first. But let’s go back to that shoot growing from a stump which reminds me of the chestnut tree. The stump of Jesse represents Israel at a time when it was united between the north and the south and it’s greatest king, David, the son of Jesse, ruled. By Isaiah’s time, David had long returned to the earth. His united kingdom had split and those in the northern half were about to be consumed by the Assyrians, the raging lions as they were known, which gives us a new insight into the tamed lions in the second half of this reading.[4]

But for Isaiah and his contemporaries, with David a distant memory, things didn’t look good. And soon, things would get worse. But our God is a God of justice and miracles. God can bring a sprout out of a dead stump and send a Son to save the world. 

The Almighty prepares the righteous king

God prepares the righteous king proclaimed by Isaiah with wisdom and knowledge and the fear of the Lord. He’s able to judge, not by sight or ear, but by righteousness, granting justice for the poor and oppressed. The lion that was Assyria will not always be on the prowl. The predators who bring danger, whether wild animals or unscrupulous business leaders or rouge nations, will be destroyed or tamed. And God’s king will rule fairly. But that’s still in the future. 

The hope of a new world

Today, we live in the world much like that which John the Baptist condemned. But it won’t always be this way. Jesus has come to save us from our sin. Jesus will come again to rule. We need to prepare ourselves for what God is doing and be ready. We need to do what we can to herald the new world that’s coming. Remember, the old saying, “it’s always darkest before the dawn.” Hold tight and trust in God. Jesus has come and will come again. Have hope, as we long for the day of peace promised in Isaiah. Amen. 

[1] For more about Hick’s and his paintings, see https://artandtheology.org/2016/12/06/the-peaceable-kingdoms-of-edward-hicks/  

[2] Genesis 3:15. See Otto Kaiser, Isaiah 1-12: A Commentary, John Bowden translator, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1983), 260.

[3] See Scott Hoezee, “Isaiah 11:1-10” at https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2022-11-28/isaiah-111-10-3/

[4] Christopher R. Seitz, Isaiah 1-39, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993), 106.

The tree at the Garrison’s home