Difference between revisions of "Sermon for December 7th, 2025"

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Luke 1:39-45 (NT p. 57)

39 In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, 40 where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. 41 When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit 42 and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. 43 And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? 44 For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. 45 And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

Luke 2:1-7 (NT p. 58)

1 In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to their own towns to be registered. 4 Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no place in the guest room.

Advent(ure), Part I

Today we’re talking about adventures and journeys, so I’m reminded of a famous saying: The journey of a thousand miles begins with… (go ahead, finish the saying for me!)

Really…is that how the saying goes? I thought it was more like this…

Or this…

Or even this…

If you’re a fashionista, I suppose it would go like this…

Or if you’re a history buff, you might like this one…

Or an animal lover…

Personally, as a parent of three children, this is my favorite:

In the children’s message last week, I talked to the kids about the words advent and adventure, which both come from the same Latin root. If you know Spanish or French, you’ve already got a head start here: The Latin verb venire is the same as the Spanish and French verb venir, which means “to come.” Adding the preposition ad in the front of the word (advenire) gives us “to come to” or “to come near.”

Putting that verb in noun form gives us adventus (and in English, Advent), meaning “the coming” or “the arrival.” Putting the same verb in the future tense gives us adventurus (and in English, adventure), meaning “about to come” or “about to happen.”

So an adventure was, originally, something that was about to happen, while Advent (at least in Christianity) refers to the season where we celebrate the coming—or the imminent arrival—of Christmas. But they are, essentially, the same word, the same thing.

For the next two weeks of the Advent season, we’re going to take a quick look at some adventures surrounding the birth of Jesus, and how those adventures, those journeys, shape our own faith journeys. And I hope that if you don’t already, you’ll come to see your own spiritual journey through this world as exactly that: an adventure shaped and inspired by the arrival of a savior.

This week, our scripture passages tell of two adventures—first, the journey of a pregnant Mary to visit her pregnant cousin Elizabeth, and then later, the journey of Mary and Joseph to the town of Bethlehem where Jesus was born.

So let’s jump right in.

In Luke 1:39 we read that “Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country.” I’m intrigued at the idea that Mary travels alone in a time when it would have been dangerous for a woman to do so. I’m also curious about exactly which Judean town she’s traveling to. But the thing that most catches my attention in this verse is that little phrase “with haste.” (In Greek: μετὰ σπουδῆς - where we get the word “speed”).

In the section right before this, Mary just heard the most astonishing news of her life. The angel of the Lord came to her and said, in effect, “Mary, God is doing something in you and through you that will change the face of the world forever.” That’s not the sort of news you just file away for future reference, then go about your business.

The angel also mentions Elizabeth—Mary’s cousin who is older, long thought unable to have children—who is now six months pregnant. So the angel gives Mary not only a promise but also a sign: “Look at what God is doing in Elizabeth. What God is doing in you is just as real.”

What does Mary do with that? She gets up. She goes. She moves. She sets out “with speed.”

This, I think, is the first thing we can learn for our own faith adventures: When God begins something in us, we don’t stay put. We move toward the places—and the people—who can help us recognize what God is doing.

Mary doesn’t stay alone with the mystery. She doesn’t keep it all in her head. She goes to someone who can share the wonder and help shoulder the weight.

When she arrives, Elizabeth hears Mary’s greeting and immediately (verse 41), the baby in Elizabeth’s womb leaps for joy. Elizabeth is filled with the Holy Spirit and cries out “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb… Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

Mary’s journey brings her to a place of confirmation. Her faith, which already said “yes” to God, is now strengthened by community. Her adventure is not just a private “spiritual experience”—God makes sure it is shared… and named… and blessed.

That’s exactly what the church—our Christian community—is called to do. And this is the second thing we need in our spiritual adventures: We need Elizabeths in our lives: people who, when we show up on their doorstep with our confusion and our questions and maybe our fear, look at us and say, “Blessed are you. I can see God at work in you, even if you can’t see it yet.”

Sometimes, as the church, we are called to be Elizabeth in someone else’s story: To be the one who says, “You may feel overwhelmed, but I can see the Spirit’s fingerprints all over your story. You are blessed. God is keeping God’s promise in you.”

Mary’s second journey is very different.

The first time she travels, it’s because she wants to, because she’s excited to, because she is seeking. But when we turn to the second chapter of Luke, we find a journey that is not Mary’s idea at all.

“In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered.” A census. A government mandate. A bureaucratic decision made far away from Nazareth.

Mary and Joseph travel not because it’s a good time, not because it’s safe, not because any doctor would have recommended it. They travel because an emperor says, “Everyone must go to their hometown.”

I imagine Mary looking at Joseph and saying, “Really? Now? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Joseph’s family is from Bethlehem, the city of David, and so they go. Luke tells us they go “from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem.” It’s not a quick little stroll. It’s a long, uphill trek for a woman “great with child,” as the older translations put it.

Here is another mark of Advent(ure) faith: Sometimes the journeys that most shape us are the ones we never would have chosen.

Many of us know what that’s like. You did not choose the medical diagnosis that changed your life. You did not choose the job loss, the family conflict, the relocation, the grief. You did not choose the timing of certain events any more than Mary and Joseph chose to go to Bethlehem at exactly the wrong moment in a pregnancy.

And yet, in the middle of all that inconvenience—right there in the awkward, crowded, uncomfortable circumstances—Christ is born.

Luke tells us that while they were in Bethlehem, “the time came” for Mary to deliver her child. She gives birth to her firstborn son, wraps him in bands of cloth, and lays him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

The Savior of the world is born not in a carefully prepared nursery, but in a place that’s available at the last minute. Not in comfort, but in makeshift shelter. Not in control, but in vulnerability.

If Mary’s first journey shows us that faith moves willingly toward community, this second journey shows us that faith endures and trusts when life moves us unwillingly into places we never expected to be.

And yet—God is there.

God does not wait for Mary and Joseph to get back home to Nazareth, where everything is familiar and settled and manageable. God meets them right in the middle of the journey they didn’t ask for, under conditions they never would have designed.

That is good news for us, because most of our lives are not spent in ideal conditions either. Our adventures with God are not all mountaintop experiences and carefully planned retreats. Often they are more like being nine months pregnant, jostling along toward Bethlehem because some distant emperor signed a decree.

Advent reminds us that God comes to us—that Jesus is Emmanuel, “God with us,” not waiting at the top of some distant spiritual mountain until we climb high enough.

Adventure reminds us that there is always something about to happen—that following Jesus is not static, but dynamic. Our lives with God are not just about holding on to a set of beliefs; they are about walking, moving, being led into new places.

Mary’s visit to Elizabeth and the hard road to Bethlehem invite us to ask: where is God nudging us to move “with haste” toward encouragement or reconciliation, and where are we walking a road we never would have chosen, trusting that Christ can be born even there?

In a few moments, we will come to the Lord’s table. And that, too, is part of our journey. This table is a place where the God who comes near meets us again in bread and cup, and strengthens us for whatever lies ahead. We come bringing our chosen paths and our unchosen roads, our joys and our griefs, and Christ meets us here, just as surely as he met Mary and Elizabeth in that hill country home, and Mary and Joseph in that Bethlehem stable.

So as you come today, come as travelers on the way. Come as people on an Advent(ure), trusting that the One who has come, who is coming, and who will come again, will meet you at this table and strengthen you for whatever road lies ahead.

Let us come to the Lord’s table.