Sermon for December 14th, 2025
Luke 2:8-20
8 In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’ 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 14 ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!’ 15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, ‘Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.’ 16So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
Matthew 2:1-12
2In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, 2asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.’ 3When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; 4and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. 5They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: 6 “And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.” ’
7 Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. 8Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’ 9When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. 10When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. 11On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 12And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.
Advent(ure) Part II
Last week we talked about two words that sound different but come from the same root: Advent and adventure, both from the Latin phrase ad venire. Advent is the noun form of the phrase and means “the coming.” Adventure is the future tense form and means “about to happen.” Which means that, at least in the original sense of the word, an adventure isn’t something planned. Sometimes it’s the moment when a journey takes a turn and you realize you’re not as in control as you thought.
Which reminds me of the story about a man who decided to sail his small boat from England all the way to Russia. He starts his journey and everything is going great—an honest-to-goodness adventure. That is, until he passes Germany’s northern coast. His ship springs a leak, and begins taking on massive amounts of water. In a panic, the man radios the German Coast Guard. “Help!” he says, through the radio. “Vat is it?” the Coast Guard replies. “I’m sinking!” the man says back. The radio goes silent. After a few agonizing moments, the Coast Guard finally replies, “Vell, vat are you sinking about?”
This week, our scripture passages give us two more adventures to consider: First, the shepherds’ journey to Bethlehem after an angelic announcement, and then the long pilgrimage of the Wise Men from the East, following a star. Let’s delve into the first story:
In Luke 2:8, Luke says there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. These are working people (what we might call blue collar workers today), outside the walls of the town, doing their job, doing what they always do, night after night. And then, in verse 9, everything changes. Luke says that an angel of the Lord stands before them, the glory of the Lord shines around them, and they are terrified.
This is a common theme in the Bible whenever God shows up: The natural response is not usually, “How lovely.” In the Old Testament, it’s typically the Hebrew word הִנֵּה (hi-nay) which loosely translates to something I’m not allowed to say in church on a Sunday morning.
But then, in verse 10, the angel says the words that show up again and again in scripture: “Do not be afraid.” And he announces good news of great joy for all the people: To you a Savior is born, the Messiah, the Lord, in David’s city. Notice how this good news is both universal (for all the people) and at the same time very personal (to you, Shepherds!). The angel also gives them a sign (verse 12): “You will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” Nevermind that the sky immediately fills up with thousands of angels singing glory to God in the highest—that’s NOT the sign! The real sign is something tiny, something small, something almost mundane, that nevertheless signals that the world is forever changed.
So what do the Shepherds do with that? As soon as the angels are gone, (verse 15) the shepherds say to one another, “Let us go NOW to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place.” And just like Mary in last week’s sermon, they go with “haste.” They don’t debate all night about what they did or didn’t see. They don’t wait until the next morning. They don’t say, “Well, that was inspiring.” They say, “Let’s go,” and they go.
In verses 17–18, Luke tells us that once they see the child, they make known what they’ve been told about him, and everyone who hears is amazed. Contrast this with Mary in verse 19, who “treasures these things and ponders them in her heart.” The shepherds are amazed and talkative. Mary is reflective and quiet. Both are faithful responses. Some people process wonder out loud. Some people carry it silently for a long time.
Then, in verse 20, Luke says the shepherds return to their fields, glorifying and praising God. They return. They go back to the same work, the same responsibilities, the same ordinary life. But they are not the same people they were at the beginning of their adventure: Fear has turned into joy. Routine has been interrupted by purpose and praise. And the experience they carry back to the fields becomes part of who they are.
What can we learn here for our own adventures in faith? For starters, God meets ordinary people right in the middle of our ordinary lives and jobs. Not when we’re ready for him. Not when we have extra bandwidth. Not when our busy schedules permit—but on his timeline, when God is doing something in the world and wants us to be a part of it.
What’s our role, then, having thus been invited? And believe me, we HAVE all been invited, whether your sign was very big or very small. Our role is simply this: To drop everything, to go, to see, to tell others, and come back home as changed people.
Now Matthew shows us a different kind of journey.
In Matthew 2:1–2, Matthew says that after Jesus is born in Bethlehem, Magi come from the East to Jerusalem. They are outsiders. They are not locals. They are not part of the religious establishment in Jerusalem. They have been watching, studying, seeking, and they arrive with a question: where is the child who has been born king? They have seen a sign, and they have come to offer homage.
And immediately, Matthew shows us that not everyone responds to this “coming” with joy. In verse 3, when Herod hears about it, he is disturbed—and not just him, but the whole city. That’s another honest moment. The coming of Christ comforts some people, but it threatens others. It brings joy, but it also exposes fear, insecurity, and the desire to stay in control.
Then, in verses 4–6, Herod gathers the chief priests and scribes and asks where the Messiah is to be born. And they can answer the question. They can cite the prophecy. They can name Bethlehem. They can tell you the correct location. But Matthew is quietly showing us something sobering: it is possible to have the information and still not take the journey.
The Magi, on the other hand, keep moving. In verses 7–8, Herod sends them toward Bethlehem, pretending that he wants to worship too. But Herod is not a fellow pilgrim. He is a rival king protecting his throne. And here is where the Magi’s adventure starts to look like ours: the road to Christ is not always simple, and it is not always safe. There are voices that will try to use your seeking for their own purposes. There are “Herods” who want the benefits of religion without any surrender to the true King.
But the Magi keep going. In verses 9–10, Matthew says they set out, and the star leads them until it stops where the child is. And when they see that sign come to rest, they rejoice—Matthew describes it as overwhelming joy. That is what happens when a long journey finally reaches its destination. There is a particular kind of joy that comes from seeking faithfully over time and then discovering that God has been guiding you all along.
Then, in verse 11, Matthew says they enter the house, see the child with Mary, kneel down, and offer gifts—gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Their journey ends in worship. And their worship is not just words. It costs them something. They open what they brought, what they value, what they carried over distance, and they place it before Christ.
And then comes the line that might be the key to the whole Magi story. In verse 12, Matthew says they are warned in a dream not to return to Herod, so they go home by another road.
Another road. That’s what an encounter with Christ does. It changes your direction. You don’t meet Jesus and then go right back to Herod as if nothing happened. You don’t bow before the true King and then casually return to the old allegiances that once claimed you. Christ not only draws us in. Christ reroutes us.
So here’s what I want you to hold together as we close. The shepherds teach us about the faith adventure that begins with interruption. God breaks into an ordinary night. Fear gives way to joy. The gospel moves your feet. And you return to the same life, but with praise in your lungs and a story in your mouth.
The Magi teach us about the faith adventure that begins with seeking. A question, a sign, a longing. A long road with complications and dangers and false kings. But it ends in worship. And it ends with a new route home.
And now we bring it back to our series theme.
The word “Advent” reminds us that God comes to us—that Jesus is Emmanuel, “God with us.” Not a God who waits for us to get our act together. Not a God who stands at a distance until we are enlightened or improved. A God who comes near to shepherds in the fields and to seekers on the road. A God who steps into the world as a child, vulnerable and real, close enough to touch.
The word “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. Sometimes God interrupts us, and we have to decide whether we will go and see. Sometimes God draws us slowly, step by step, until we finally kneel in worship. But one way or another, Christ calls travelers.
So where are you in the story today?
Some of you may feel like shepherds. Life is ordinary, maybe a little dark, and you are just trying to be faithful in the field you’ve been given. And God may be nudging you—maybe even interrupting you—to take a step. To go and see. To move toward Christ rather than staying put in fear.
Others of you may feel like Magi. You’ve been seeking. Watching. Asking. Following a small light that you can’t fully explain. And maybe what God is doing in you right now is leading you to a moment of worship—where you finally lay down what you’ve been carrying and you offer yourself, your treasures, your allegiance, to the true King. And maybe you already know this: if you do that, you won’t go home the same way you came. It will be another road.
That’s the shape of Advent(ure). God comes near. And we find ourselves moving—toward Bethlehem, toward worship, toward joy, and sometimes onto a different path than the one we planned.
Let us pray…
