December 14, 2025 Message

As you know, today is the Third Sunday of Advent; what you may not know is that, traditionally, in very formal or High-Church settings, today is Gaudete Sunday.  The word Gaudete is Latin for “Rejoice!”  We commemorate this turn in the Season of Advent by lighting the pink candle, the Candle of Joy.  It signifies that our waiting is nearing its end, that the promised Light is about to break through the darkness and that the time for celebration is almost upon us.  There is always a tension if our waiting on the Lord.  This inherent strain is because, as followers of Christ, we are a people living in the “already and not yet” continuum.  We light the Joy Candle, even while the world around us often feels anything but joyful.  We prepare our hearts for the coming of Jesus, while still navigating difficult circumstances, personal struggles, and painful, unanswered questions.  We yearn for the wilderness to bloom and the desert to rejoice, but we often still feel the dryness of the cracked earth beneath our feet.  It is into this profound tension that our Scripture for today speaks so powerfully.  In this text, we encounter someone who knows a thing or two about waiting in difficult circumstances: John the Baptist.  John, the fiery prophet, the voice crying out in the wilderness, was in prison, not for a crime he had committed, but rather, for being “politically incorrect”.  He was chained and awaiting certain execution.  It was from this dark, lonely dungeon that he sent a message to Jesus, a message that cut straight to the heart of the Advent question: “Are you the One we were expecting or are we to wait for another?”

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I want us to sit with John the Baptist’s doubt for a moment before we hurry off to other things.  This was the baby, who had leapt in his mother’s womb at the sound of Mary’s voice.  This was the man, who had fearlessly preached repentance, and had baptized Jesus in the Jordan River, witnessing the Spirit of God descend like a dove.  He had even heard the very voice of God proclaim “. . . ‘This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.’” [Matthew 3:17, NKJV], but in the darkness of the dungeon, memory faded and doubt crept in.  Jesus’ ministry did not look quite like the grand revolutionary transformation that John had expected.  John preached fire and an axe at the root of the trees.  Jesus was preaching blessings for the meek and dining with tax collectors, the very people John would have scorned.  There is room for doubt in this story and, perhaps, the text gives us permission to acknowledge our own questions, our own frustration, and our own grief during this season of expectation.

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God is big enough to handle our honest doubt and John the Baptist’s question was as honest as it was raw.  He was essentially asking Jesus, “If you are the Messiah, the Anointed One of God, why am I still in prison?  Why is King Herod still in power?  Why is the world still so broken?  Why is the grand transformation not happening right now?”  Perhaps we can relate to John’s impatience.  We attempt to wait with joy for Christ’s coming, both the celebration of the Nativity in a few days and the final coming of Christ in glory at the end of the age.  Yet sometimes, when we look at our own lives, our families, our community, we might feel like we are waiting for a very long, very painful situation to end, rather than preparing for a joyous feast.  It can feel like weary, passive waiting, instead of active, hopeful preparation, and in those moments, we might wonder deep in our spirits, “Lord, are you really the One or should we look for another way, another solution, another savior?”

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Jesus’ response to John the Baptist’s disciples was not a simple, indignant, “Yes, of course I am the One!”  Instead, it was an invitation to look at the evidence, to pay attention to the signs that were all around them.  Jesus did not send His cousin a theological treatise or a political manifesto.  He simply directed John’s disciples to report what they saw and heard: “the blind see, the lame walk, those with leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor.” [Matthew 11:5, NLT]  These actions were not a random list miracles that Jesus tossed out of the top of His head; instead, they were direct fulfillments of the prophecy of the Prophet Isaiah, recorded in the thirty-five chapter of the Book of Isaiah.  This is a prophecy that John the Baptist would have known very well.  Over seven hundred years before Jesus was born. Isaiah promised a day when God would come to save and the physical evidence would be unmistakable: the eyes of the blind would open; the ears of the deaf unstopped; the lame would leap like a deer; and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.  Jesus was showing a Messiah who acts, not primarily through overwhelming force or political upheaval, but through intimate service and a healing presence.  Even today, the signs of God’s presence are generally not found in the halls of power, but in quiet, unexpected acts of restoration and mercy.

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Think about the difference between waiting for a fireworks display and waiting for a sunrise.  A fireworks display is loud and flashy, with the flickering of the light and the sound of the boom occurring almost simultaneously.  There is a brief moment of building anticipation between the swoop sound of the launch of the firework and the dramatic, loud bang and light show.  The coming of the Messiah that John the Baptist expected was perhaps more like that, a sudden, explosive intervention that would light up the sky and terrify all the enemies of God, but Jesus’ coming that holy night in Bethlehem was more like a sunrise.  It was quiet, gentle, and slow.  You have to be awake and watching to catch the first subtle change in the darkness.  It does not force itself upon you with noise, but it undeniably changes everything, pushing back the darkness one ray of light at a time.  It requires patience and observation.  Jesus’ response to John’s question was an instruction on how to look for the kingdom of God; it is present wherever healing is found, wherever dignity is restored, and wherever the Good News of the Gospel is preached to those whom the world has forgotten.

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So what does this mean for us today, on the Third Sunday of Advent 2025?  It means that our faith has called us to a specific kind of waiting, not a passive, hand wringing waiting, but an active waiting, rooted in patience and a resilient joy.  Regarding waiting on God, the Apostle James gave us this valuable advice: “Dear brothers and sisters, be patient as you wait for the Lord’s return.  Consider the farmers who patiently wait for the rains in the fall and in the spring.  They eagerly look for the valuable harvest to ripen.  You, too, must be patient.  Take courage, for the coming of the Lord is near.” [James 5:7-8, NLT]  I do not think that we are so far removed from an agrarian culture that we have forgotten that a farmer does not sit idly by.  Instead, they plow, they sow the seed, they tend the fields, they weed, they pray for rain, and then they wait with patient endurance for the harvest that is promised.  During Advent, as followers of Jesus, our waiting is to be active.  We are to strengthen what is weak through prayer, study, and repentance.  We are to look for both the early and the late rains; that is, we are to look for the small acts of grace and justice happening all around us.  Do not miss the significant while looking only for the extravagant, lest you will miss out on much joy.

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The joy of Gaudete Sunday is not a superficial happiness that ignores the pain of the world.  Rather, it is a deep, theological joy, rooted in the absolute certainty of God’s promises.  The Prophet Isaiah promised that the redeemed; that is, those who have placed their complete trust in Christ, “. . . will enter Jerusalem singing, crowned with everlasting joy.  Sorrow and mourning will disappear, and they will be filled with joy and gladness.” [Isaiah 35:10, NLT]  That joy is resilient because it is not dependent on our circumstances, but on God’s faithfulness.

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​Consider first responders during a crisis, say, a major earthquake.  Amidst the chaos and the heartbreak, a rescue team hears a weak tapping sound beneath the rubble.  It is barely audible, perhaps just a few taps: tap-tap, tap, tap-tap.  To an observer, it might sound like random noise, but to the trained rescuer, those faint taps are the most beautiful sound in the world; they are a sign of life; they are a promise that their work is not in vain, that there is someone there to save.  The potential for rescue turns their weary efforts into joyous, focused action.  That is how we are to live our lives.  The world is full of rubble and chaos, but if we listen closely enough, if we open our eyes to the quiet works of Christ among us, we can hear the taps; we can see the blind receiving sight; we can see churches serving the poor; we can see acts of profound generosity and mercy that whisper, “He is here.  Christ is coming.”

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John the Baptist sent his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are You the One?”  Jesus’ answer pointed, not to a distant sky, but to the very ground beneath our feet, where healing and hope are breaking out like water in a desert.  This Gaudete Sunday, God is calling each of us to embrace this resilient joy.  God is calling us to strengthen our weak hands and make firm our feeble knees.  God is calling us to active waiting, to prayer, and to thanksgiving.  God is calling us to look for the signs of His advent among us and to participate in them.  We can wait with joy because we know the character of the One who is coming.  He is the Savior of the world, who heals the broken and lifts up the downtrodden.  The Lord is near and will save all who embrace Him.  God is calling us to bear witness and prepare His way, by making His signs visible in our own lives.  Rejoice always, for the Lord is near!