God With Us, Even Here


 



Fourth Sunday of Advent

By the fourth Sunday of Advent, the air feels thinner.
We are close now.
Close to birth, close to mystery, close to a truth that does not arrive gently but insists on entering real life.

Today’s scriptures are not tidy.
They are full of fear, hesitation, political anxiety, sleepless nights, and fragile trust.
And right there—right in the middle of all that uncertainty—God speaks a word that keeps echoing through the centuries:

“The young woman is with child… and shall name him Immanuel.”
God with us.

1. A Sign We Didn’t Ask For

In Isaiah, King Ahaz stands trembling. He is afraid—of enemies, of collapse, of losing control. God offers him a sign, almost pleading: Ask for one. Anything. But Ahaz refuses. Not because he trusts God—but because he has already decided where his security will come from.

And that’s when God gives a sign anyway.

Not fire from heaven.
Not military victory.
Not a policy shift or divine shortcut.

A child.

A pregnancy.
A slow, vulnerable promise that will take time to unfold.

This is important: God’s sign is not proof. It is presence.
It does not remove fear; it enters it.

Advent keeps reminding us: God’s way is not to overpower history but to inhabit it.

2. “Restore Us, O God”

Psalm 80 gives voice to the longing beneath Isaiah’s fear.

“Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved.”

This is not a triumphant psalm.
It is the prayer of people who feel forgotten.
People who know what it is to be fed with tears.
People who wonder whether God has turned away.

And yet they keep praying.

That alone is faith.

Advent faith is not certainty.
It is returning—again and again—to the hope that God’s face might still turn toward us.

3. The Gospel Begins With a Servant

Paul opens Romans not with power, but with humility:

“Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ…”

Before theology.
Before doctrine.
Before argument.

A servant.

And what is the gospel Paul proclaims?
That grace and peace come from God—not because we have earned them, but because God has chosen to draw near.

Grace first.
Peace as gift.

This is the rhythm of Advent:
God moves toward us long before we know how to move toward God.

4. Joseph’s Quiet Courage

And then we come to Matthew.

Joseph does not speak a single word in this story.
But do not mistake silence for passivity.

Joseph is righteous—and righteousness here does not mean rigid obedience. It means compassion. When he learns of Mary’s pregnancy, he chooses mercy over exposure, kindness over law, love over being right.

Still, his heart must have been breaking.

And then comes the dream.

“Do not be afraid.”

That sentence might be the most repeated command in Scripture—for good reason.

Joseph is asked to trust something that will cost him reputation, clarity, and control. He is asked to name the child—Jesus—and to accept a mystery he did not choose.

And Joseph does.

He wakes up.
He acts.
He steps into a story larger than himself.

This is faith: not understanding everything, but saying yes anyway.

5. Emmanuel Is Not an Idea

Matthew is clear: Immanuel is not a metaphor.

God does not watch from a distance.
God does not wait for us to get our act together.
God comes with us—into confusion, into fragile families, into political unrest, into ordinary lives that did not ask for divine interruption.

God with us when plans fall apart.
God with us when prayers feel unanswered.
God with us when all we have is obedience without clarity.

Advent insists that holiness does not float above reality—it takes on flesh.

6. Standing on the Threshold

So here we are.
Four candles lit.
On the edge of Christmas.

Some of us are hopeful.
Some of us are exhausted.
Some of us are carrying grief we did not plan to bring into this season.

The good news is not that everything will suddenly make sense.

The good news is this: God is already here.

Not waiting at the finish line.
Not hidden behind perfection.

But present—quietly, persistently, tenderly.

As a child.
As a name whispered in the dark.
As a promise still unfolding.

Closing Blessing

So may you trust the signs that come not with certainty but with presence.
May you hear the angel’s word—do not be afraid—spoken into your own night.
May you dare, like Joseph, to say yes without knowing how the story ends.

And may you discover, again and again,
that Emmanuel is not only coming—

Emmanuel is already with us.

Amen.

 

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