"The Two Sides of Advent" Advent 1 2024

01. December 2024

Advent 1

Matthew 21:1-9

This is the word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in his name. AMEN.

Advent has two sides to it. On the one side, Jesus comes in humility as the baby born to Mary. The other side of Advent is the apocalyptic announcement that He will come in glory as the judge of the living and the dead. In previous generations, Advent was a quiet season to prepare for the coming of this lowly Lord, but not anymore. We don’t have that luxury anymore. So, the coming of Jesus in humility and judgment must be preached because he is the only one who can save us from this present evil that has captured almost every institution in our society, from politics to public education, from the mass media to the medical industry.

So, the first side of Advent invites us to sing:

Prepare my heart, Lord Jesus, Turn not from me aside,
And help me to receive You This blessed Adventtide.
From stall and manger low Come now to dwell within me;
I’ll sing Your praises gladly And forth Your glory show. (354:4 LSB)

The other side of Advent is more like a lament than a lullaby:

“O Thou, whose coming is with dread To judge the living and the dead,
Preserve us from the ancient foe While still we dwell on earth below” (351:5 LSB)

Advent is a liturgical speed bump that slows us down lest we rush to Christmas but forget that the baby born in Bethlehem will return with glory and power to judge the living and the dead. Advent reminds us that we exist in two times—the old and the new—simultaneously. We are in an old age dominated by sin, death, and evil, yet we live by faith in the new age, citizens of a heavenly kingdom.

Of course, Christians are not without sin. We are, at the same time, both righteous and sinners. St. Paul knew this, that we belong to two times, two worlds, the world of death, which we still live in, and the new world of life to which we have been rescued, but in which we do not yet live.

The apostle Paul knew that through Baptism, we are born again into a new life and that the old man still lives inside us. For the Christians on this side of the Last Day, it is always Advent. Our constant cry is, “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20) Yet, even as we groan under the weight of this evil world, we anticipate in hope the final coming of the Savior and the consummation of all things in Him. So, we sing:

O come, O come Emmanuel, And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel Shall come to thee, O Israel. (357:1 LSB)

For Christians, lament is always bound up with the hope that does not disappoint. The lament of Advent is never without the promise of Advent.

Christians have a different relationship with time than the world does. The Preacher of Ecclesiastes said there is nothing new under the sun. The world experiences the passing of time. Seasons change. One year follows another. The decades relentlessly roll on. Generations rise up and pass away. Yet, there is the constancy of our sin, death, and evil. The myths of progress through technology and the triumph of science have not brought in a new age of universal health and happiness. Instead, our addiction to technology and innovation, our dependence on information, and our rejection of wonder and mystery have provided us with unending fear and anxiety and unlimited possibilities for self-destruction.

Christians live within this world of clocks and calendars, but we know time from the perspective of the eternal Lord. He entered a time when Caesar Augustus ruled in Rome and Quirinius was governor of Syria. He came to be crucified under Pontus Pilate, but death could not hold Him. He was raised from the Grave, ascended to the Father’s right hand, and will come again to judge the living and the dead.

Unbelief mocks this hope. But that’s been true from the beginning. This hope is persecuted. It is attacked. Attempts are made to discredit or suppress it, but it is lively and life-giving because Jesus has made promises that death cannot break.

Christians wait in hope because the Holy Absolution and the justification of the sinner anticipate what happens on the Day of Judgment. Every celebration of the Lord’s Supper is a testimony to the fact that the Lord for whom we wait is already with us in His body and blood. The Sanctus proclaims Him: “Blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord.”

This is where the Church, wherever she lives, learns about who her Lord is and about whom she waits for despite all disappointment. And she can wait for Him because He is with her. That is the mystery of the expectation of the Church. She can wait because she is with Him, hidden under the means of grace, in the Lord’s Supper. That is the mystery of the coming of Christ.

And so you pray, “Come, Lord Jesus.” And He answers, “I am coming soon.”

Advent is marked by a sober realism about the conditions of the world as well as a vibrant and joyful confidence in Christ’s promises. There are no platitudes in Advent to get you around the horrors of the injustice and oppression that’s come upon us and the collapse of the myths of security manufactured by the failed promises of our elected leaders and their mouthpieces in the media.

Jesus comes to you with an unflinching proclamation of sin and grace, repentance and faith, and the finality of a Savior who comes to you to serve you in this day and age to the glory of his holy name. For you, on this side of the Last Day, it is always Advent, and your constant cry is, “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!” And he says, “Do not be afraid, for I am with you always, even until the end of the age... be brave, be courageous, I am coming soon.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!

This is the word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in his name. AMEN.

Rev. Christopher R. Gillespie
St. John Ev. Lutheran Church & School - Sherman Center
Random Lake, Wisconsin

Based on a sermon from Hermann Sasse