The beginning of Advent at Loon Lake Lutheran Church meant a lot of preparation. Pastor Laura had just finished recruiting for Wednesday night suppers, as well as planning the Advent services. She was beginning to plan for Christmas Eve when she got two phone calls, informing her that two long-time members, “Carrie” and “Mary”, were moving into other facilities. “Carrie” was going to a memory care unit, while “Mary” was moving to assisted living. Neither call was a surprise to Pastor Laura, but when she visited them, she was a little surprised at how each conversation went.
“Carrie” had always been a dynamic person. She’d been on Pastor Laura’s call committee and had kept her honest during Bible studies. When Laura had gone on one tangent or another, Carrie always called her back by asking, “That sounds very interesting, Pastor, but what does that have to do with my soul’s salvation?” Yet, the Carrie that Pastor Laura saw was in a very different mood. “Pastor,” she asked tearfully, “I know that we’re saved by grace alone, but I can’t help but wonder if I’ve done enough in this life. I don’t think I’ve done enough to stand before God.”
“Mary” was in a very different place. After her husband “Joe” had died suddenly, she could no longer stay in her lake home by herself. During Laura’s visit, Mary burst out, “I did everything right and now I’m being punished for it. I worked hard. I went to college and got my degree. Joe and I saved our money. We raised two good children. We tried to stay healthy. We didn’t burden anybody. We gave to the church. We volunteered. We did everything that was asked of us. And now the nursing home is going to take everything I have. Pastor, did anything I did count for anything?”
What happens when the idol of the self-made person crumbles? What happens when either we lose trust in ourselves, like Carrie, or lose faith in a cosmic sense of fairness, like Mary? What do we do when we have nothing left; when age, illness, or personal or professional failure have brought us to the end of our rope?
We might be right where God want us to be.
Now, our reading from the Gospel is strange (though no stranger than what we’ve had the past few weeks!). And I know we may be a bit tired of these “end-of-the-world” texts. I get it. But there’s something in this strange reading from Matthew that speaks to this place God wants us.
Our reading is somewhat continuous with what we read last week in Luke. Jesus is preaching in the Temple, speaking of its impending destruction and his final return. As in Luke, Jesus stresses that no one knows when these things will happen. Even Jesus, God the Son, co-equal and co-eternal with his Abba Father, doesn’t know! He stresses the necessity to stay watchful. To be ready for his return because it will be like a thief in the night.
But here’s the rub. How can anybody be completely ready for his return? And what does it even mean to be ready 2000 years after these words were uttered?
The apostle Paul gives us a clue in our reading from Romans. Paul tells the church in Rome to put on the armor of light, which is none other than the Lord Jesus Christ himself, making no provision for the flesh. Now, this isn’t as much a moralistic statement as it is a theological one. Paul is writing to a church struggling with both internal and external conflict. The internal conflict is between Jewish and Gentile Jesus-followers, as they struggle to figure out how to do church and life together. The external conflict is with the Roman authorities, who are increasingly suspicious of what they regard as a strange little Jewish sect. In response to these pressures and conflicts, which reveal the limits of what they can control, Paul counsels these believers to not trust in themselves and what they can do at all! No one, it turns out, can stand before God on their own merits. No one has done enough for God. None of our good work, as necessary as it is, ultimately counts for anything. No one can be ready enough, awake enough, or alert enough. It is only when we put on the Lord Jesus Christ through faith that we are ready enough to welcome him, whether it is during our lifetime or the moment after our death.
After all, such faith is no different than the faith it takes to come to the communion table or to bring a child to baptism. Such faith trusts that Jesus Christ is present in, with, and under the bread, wine, or water—not partly, not provisionally—but fully. Such faith also trusts that Jesus Christ is present there for good—to forgive sins and strengthen for the life of faith. And finally, such faith trusts that Christ is not just present in the elements but also among the people gathered. And here’s the kicker. Such faith isn’t done by us at all! When Jesus commands us to be ready, it is his Holy Spirit that will make us ready. When Jesus commands us to eat and drink, it is the Spirit that gives us the necessary trust to go forward. And when the idol of our own self-worth, reliance, and ability crumbles, it is the Spirit that guides us to the true source of power: Jesus Christ, who was crucified and risen for the life of the world.
Jesus is not only returning one day in glory, but he has also already arrived and continues to arrive when we gather in his name. He has freed us from trusting in our own flesh and continues to free us when we are anxious about its works or in despair over its suffering. As we celebrate this first Sunday of Advent, God keep us grateful for his arrival among us as a baby; aware of his arrival among us today in Word, Sacrament, and each other; and expectant of his coming one day as our Savior. Amen.
© 2025, David M. Fleener. Permission granted to copy and adapt original material herein for non-commercial purposes with appropriate credit given.