God with Us

Jesu Juva

Matthew 1:18-25                                       

December 21, 2025

Advent 4A           

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        King Ahaz was scared to death—literally shaking like a leaf.  His enemies to the north had forged an alliance and were planning an attack on Jerusalem and Judah.  The entire kingdom was on high alert—Def-Con 1.  Troops were mobilizing.  Battle stationed were manned.  War was imminent.  King Ahaz was terrified.  His heart sank. 

        Right then the Lord sent the prophet Isaiah to reassure the troubled king.  The Lord’s message was simple and direct: Don’t worry.  Don’t do anything.  Fear not.  Be still and know that I am God.  Those two kings you’re so worried about are about to go down in flames.  Don’t be afraid.  Trust me.  And as if that wasn’t already the best news possible, Isaiah sweetens the pot even further: “Ask for a sign from the Lord—anything you want.  Whatever it takes to convince you that the Lord is with you—just name your price.”

        But Ahaz—faithless Ahaz said, “Thanks . . . but no thanks.  Far be it from me to put the Lord to the test.  I’ll handle things my way.”  Can you imagine?  The Lord promises that your biggest problem—the thing that keeps you up at night and fills your heart with fear—will be handled by the Lord.  Problem solved!  You don’t have to do a thing.  And for good measure—the Lord will give you a sign—whatever you want—to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Lord is with you.  And you say, “Nah.”

        Isaiah gives Ahaz a sign anyway—whether he wants one or not: Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.  Now, what Ahaz would have heard is this:  In the time it takes for a young maiden to conceive and bear a son—in nine short months—you will know Immanuel, God is with us.  Nine months, Ahaz.  Be still and know that I am God for nine months, and it will be unmistakably apparent, God is with us.  And by the time the kid is old enough to know the difference between good and evil, those two kings up north will have been dealt a fatal blow by the Assyrian Empire.

        But Ahaz did not believe it.  He did not trust.  He had no faith in the Lord.  He preferred to take control.  He preferred to engineer and orchestrate his own solution and protection.  He’d fight his own battles—secure his own salvation—thank you very much.  But refuse the Lord’s salvation, there’s nothing more foolish and faithless than that. 

        And then came nothing.  Nothing happened.  O sure, the threat from the north faded away, just like Isaiah said it would.  The sign of Immanuel, promised by Isaiah, was written down, recorded and filed away.  For 700 years the sign of Immanuel lay hidden like a seed buried in the soil of history, waiting for the fullness of time, when the stump of David’s family tree would sprout a righteous branch. 

And then, something.  Something happened that had never happened before.  The Word of the Lord came to a young virgin named Mary who was engaged to a man named Joseph.  And now she was pregnant by the Holy Spirit and the Word of God.  With God nothing is impossible.  A virgin conceives.  God is with us.

        The sign of Immanuel, first spoken by Isaiah seven centuries earlier, now takes on its fullest meaning.  It is fulfilled.  The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.  God is with us.  He is one with us; and He is one of us.  And God became one of us by way of a virgin mother.

        Mary and Joseph didn’t know anything about genetics or chromosomes, or DNA.  But they did know a thing or two about where babies come from.  Virgins don’t conceive.  One of the interesting conversations not recorded in Scripture would have to be the conversation where Mary tells Joseph (her betrothed) about the special baby she’s carrying.  Of course, Joseph didn’t believe her—not at first.  He wanted to call off the marriage.  But he was also a pious and decent man.  Instead of exposing Mary to public shame and humiliation, he planned to divorce her quietly so that she could marry the father of her child.

        But then, something happened: The Word of the Lord came to Joseph.  It’s always the Word—to Ahaz, to Mary, to Joseph—to you.  The power is in the Word.  And the Word of the Lord comes to Joseph in a dream. This Joseph dreams, just like the Joseph in Genesis dreamed.  An angel in a dream tells Joseph what Isaiah once said to Ahaz long ago: Don’t worry.  Fear not. Don’t be afraid to take Mary as your wife.  Things are not as they appear.  Her child is not from another man but from the Holy Spirit.  She will bear a son, and you (Joseph!) you (as his surrogate father and guardian) you shall call His name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.  And then Matthew adds a footnote that brings everything full circle—from prophecy to fulfillment:  All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet: “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means, God with Us).

        There are lots of miracles going on here.  First of all, a virgin conceives.  It’s biologically impossible, but with God nothing is impossible.  An even greater miracle is that Joseph believed it—believed the Word of the Lord.  That’s the miracle of faith.  Joseph heard the Word and the Word worked faith in Joseph.  Unlike King Ahaz, who rejected the sign of Immanuel, Joseph received it and believed it and acted according to it.  He took Mary to be his lawfully wedded wife.  Joseph heard and believed and did what the Lord asked of him. 

And it wouldn’t be the last time.  Come back next Sunday and you’ll hear about another dream where Joseph is warned to take Mary and Jesus and flee to Egypt.  If I’m Joseph, I’d have to think twice before going to sleep.  Each time the Word comes to Joseph, he is inconvenienced, challenged, pushed, pulled, and tested.  And quietly, faithfully, Joseph obeys. In fact, there’s not a single word from Joseph recorded in the Bible.  Joseph just walks by faith.  He’s the strong, silent type.  His actions speak louder than any words.

        Think of faithful Joseph the next time you are inconvenienced because of your faith.  Or the next time you are led by God outside your usual zone of comfort and complacency.  Or the next time you’re shaking like a leaf with fear.  Or the next time you doubt that God will do what He has promised.  Or the next time doing the right thing means that you will be mocked or persecuted, or worse.  Think of Joseph, the husband of a pregnant virgin, a man of faith who believed the impossible, and by that faith did what was given him to do, without saying a word.  Think of Joseph, the silent surrogate father of our Lord.

As the father figure, it fell to Joseph that on the eighth day he—Joseph—would be the first man among men to name and claim Jesus as the Son of God and his Savior.  And for all the times when you haven’t lived like faithful Joseph—for all the times when you have lived by lies, faithlessly and selfishly and fearfully—remember the reason for the season—the reason why God sent His Son and why we will celebrate for twelve days beginning Thursday:  He (Jesus) will save His people from their sins. 

From conception to death, from the womb to the tomb, from the wood of the manger to the wood of the cross—see how much you are loved by God.  Through faith in His Son you are justified.  You are sanctified.  And the Lord Himself gives you the signs to prove it! (Even without your asking!)  You are washed in holy baptism (like little Erik), and fed in His holy supper.  These sacramental signs run higher than heaven—showing that your sins are forgiven, and declaring definitively:  God is with us. 

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

Victory for the Evicted

Jesu Juva

Isaiah 35:1-10                                            

December 14, 2025

Advent 3A                

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Chicago is a tough town.  There’s no doubt about it.  All you have to do is listen to their sports radio stations or drive on their freeways (correction: drive on their TOLLWAYS).  It’s brutal in Chicago.  Even advertising is bare knuckles in The Windy City.  In Chicago I once heard an ad for a law firm that specializes—not divorces or DWIs—but in evictions.  They promised “quality, affordable evictions.”  They were proud to have been meeting the eviction needs of Chicago area landlords since 1983, or so.  They are your eviction experts, giving terrible tenants the boot so that you don’t have to.

        To be evicted, of course, is a terrible trauma.  When things get to that point, it’s a pretty good indication that there are no other options.  No other remedies.  It’s three strikes and you’re out.  Eviction is the last drastic resort in the landlord’s toolbox.  I remember getting a phone call one afternoon many years ago from someone who was about to be evicted.  She was desperately working her way through the phone book, calling church after church, hoping for a miracle.  If it’s happened to you, then you likely look back on it now as one of the rock-bottom, low points of life.  (But don’t be so sure it hasn’t happened to you.)

        Eviction goes back to the earliest days of human history—the earliest chapters of Scripture.  When Adam and Eve decided to live by their own rules, it wasn’t enough that they blushed for shame and made a fashion statement with fig leaves.  It wasn’t enough that they were interrogated and rebuked by the Almighty.  It wasn’t enough that they heard gut-wrenching curses pronounced upon their future crop-raising and child-birthing.  It wasn’t enough that at that very hour they started down a slippery slope that would eventually deposit them six feet under.  There was more!  As a final, necessary action, their Landlord (the Lord) kicked them out.  They were evicted from Eden!  And so it was for our not-so-great grandparents.

        But you know what they say: The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  Like father, like son.  Like Adam, like Eve—like you, like me.  The eviction notice first issued to our not-so-great grandparents also includes their not-so-great grandchildren, as in you and me.  And believe it or not, the whole human family has been homeless ever since.  We’ve been on the move.  We’ve clawed our way through thickets of lies.  We’ve scaled mountains of pride.  We’ve ventured down deep into valleys of depravity and debauchery.  We’ve stampeded over anyone who dares to get in our way.  We’ve come a long way, alright—a long way from home.  Our eviction from Paradise has landed us in a lifeless desert—a desert of sin and shame and death.  That’s where we are.

        Say what you will about the mysterious beauty of the desert.  The truth is that the desert doesn’t really have much going for it, especially if your canteen is bone dry.  Isaiah articulates some of the desert’s most notable features:  Burning sand, thirsty ground, jackals, scorpions and prickly vegetation.  This is where evicted sinners like us eke out an existence.  It’s tough sledding.  It matters not that you may live only blocks from one of the world’s largest freshwater lakes, or that snowflakes coat the landscape.  The world in which we live is a desert drear compared to the Paradise from which we’ve been evicted—the Paradise that was originally designed for you.  Our knees are feeble.  Our hearts are fearful.  Our hands are dirty from grave-digging.

        But there’s a preacher out here in the desert—a fella named Isaiah.  And the gospel according to Isaiah has the power to transform our sin-scarred landscape—to change our arid, cursed climate.  “Get ready,” says Isaiah, because change is coming—climate change on a cosmic scale.  Waters shall break forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert.  The burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water.  Deserts will become like the Everglades, with reeds and rushes and palms. 

Isaiah is not predicting man-made climate change, but climate change by divine design.  Why will everything change like this?  Because the One who evicted Adam and Eve is coming—coming in flesh and blood.  The Lord Himself is coming.  The Creator becomes a creature like you.  And He’s coming to bring you back home to that perfect place called Paradise.

        In Jesus Christ the Landlord comes for you—to claim you, to redeem you, to pay your debt in full.  All you can do is repent.  Prepare the way.  That’s Advent in a nutshell.  And everywhere Jesus goes, everything shifts into reverse.  Jesus undoes the curse of Eden by becoming a curse for us.  In today’s gospel, when John sent his disciples to ask Jesus if He was the expected Messiah, Jesus didn’t say, “Yes, I am.”  Jesus quoted Isaiah.  The blind see.  The deaf hear.  The mute tongue sings for joy.  The lame man leaps like a deer.  Deserts become like the water parks in Wisconsin Dells!  Everything shifts into reverse. 

Jesus comes not to indict you—not to convict you or evict you—but to save you.  In His bloody death your eviction from Eden is rendered null and void.  His crucifixion undoes your eviction.  His resurrection is your invitation—your welcome back home to Eden.  You’ve got a new lease—a new lease on life—life that lasts forever.  This return to Paradise is what Isaiah was describing when he wrote that the ransomed of the Lord shall return . . . “everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”

        The promise of all this is right now; the fulfillment is not yet.  But make no mistake, change is coming.  It’s already begun.  Here in the desert the agent of change is always water.  In the desert there can only be life where there’s water.  Here in the church—guess what!—there’s water and there’s life.  They go together.  It’s not mirage.  Here there’s water—together with the Word—applied to your mortal body in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  We call it baptism—water that works forgiveness of sins, rescues from death and the devil, and gives eternal salvation to all who believe.  Here in the church of Jesus Christ there’s water, there’s life, AND there’s food and drink—provisions from Paradise—the life-giving body and blood of Jesus for the forgiveness of sins.

        And one last thing:  Isaiah says that the way back home to Paradise has been paved for you and me.  He says there’s a highway to get you there.  Only it’s not a highway made of concrete or asphalt.  This royal highway to Paradise is constructed with the flesh and blood of Jesus, the one Mediator between God and men.  He is the way back home to Eden—to Paradise.  Through faith in Jesus, He gives victory to the evicted.  He is the Savior of sinners.  He is the Lord—the Grand Landlord of Paradise, who seeks and saves tenants like us, and brings us Home. 

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.