CMLC 2025-12-21 Sermon

I got to tell you all something. I heard something

on the news, and by the news I mean social media,

that says that apparently, according to Macaulay

Culkin, Macaulay Culkin has declared that Die

Hard is not a Christmas movie. Mr. Home Alone

1 and 2 has declared that Die Hard is not a Christmas

movie. And frankly, I used to like Macaulay Culkin.

I'm sorry, clearly Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

I don't care what Macaulay Culkin or even Bruce

Willis himself says, okay? It takes place at

a Christmas party, there is reconciliation with

an estranged spouse, and there is even a man

crawling through the air conditioning ductwork,

which is kind of like going down a chimney if

you squint your eyes just well enough. You could

also make a case for gremlins being a Christmas

movie it starts with a Christmas gift that goes

terribly wrong kind of like jingle all the way

there's a bunch of tiny little creatures running

around and Everyone seems to care a whole lot

about midnight and eating But you know there

is one movie that almost everyone agrees does

belong to Christmas Even if they don't like it

love actually Don't forget the comma in between.

It shows up every year like a relative who lets

themselves in without knocking. Some people adore

it. Some people tolerate it. Some people suddenly

remember they need to cover their kid's eyes

when certain scenes come up. And I don't mean

when Mr. Bean appears. And yet it sticks with

us every year now. Not because it gives a perfect

definition of love, but because it gives us a

collage. Love as grand gestures with music and

learning languages. Love as romantic longing

between new acquaintances. Love as heartbreak

in and out of relationships. Love as awkward

friendship between teammates. Love as cardboard

signs and background music. That, actually, is

the point of the movie. The movie insists that

love is everywhere. in all kinds of forms, sometimes

noble, sometimes messy, and sometimes deeply

confusing, even wondering if anyone notices them

at all. But that is exactly where the problem

begins. Because if love can mean anything, it

eventually means nothing other than the momentary

feelings we may experience. If love is only intensity,

chemistry, or how strongly we feel in the moment,

then love becomes fragile, temporary, disposable,

easy to abandon when it starts costing more than

we expected. So Advent presses the question back

on us, not how do we feel about love, but how

does God define love? And God doesn't answer

though with the definition. He answers with a

story. Actually, He answers with multiple stories.

Sit here for a moment and let the tension build

when we hear about Joseph and Mary. Joseph is

engaged to Mary, you may have heard, which in

his culture already carries legal and social

weight. It's not a casual arrangement. They are

legally... on the inside of marriage. This is

a future that has begun. It's just waiting for

consummation and then everything collapses. Because

Mary is pregnant and Joseph knows one thing for

sure, the child is not his. But let's just sit

with this for a moment. This is not some sitcom

mistake that can be cleared up with a quick conversation

and a commercial break. This is not even Alan

Rickman giving Emma Thompson a Joni Mitchell

CD and revealing a cheating heart. This is life

altering, reputation ending, community shattering.

Matthew tells us Joseph is righteous though,

which we often hear as following the rules. being

morally precise, doing everything correctly.

But look at what righteousness looks like here.

Joseph plans to divorce Mary quietly. Instead

of making a spectacle of her in order to exonerate

himself, he wants to be merciful. That means

he absorbs some of the shame instead of spreading

it. He chooses mercy rather than public scrutiny

that could bring about her death. He loves Mary

enough not to ruin her even while his own heart

must be breaking. The Christmas story almost

could have ended before it even began. And then

God complicates things further. He has a habit

of doing that, doesn't he? The angel appears

and Joseph is asked to do something even harder.

Not just to spare Mary, but to stay. To take

her as his wife. To claim her publicly. To raise

a child that will never biologically be his.

To accept a story that sounds unbelievable to

everyone else. Joseph's love becomes obedience

that costs him the story he had always wanted.

Hope for Joseph is now in a future he cannot

understand. Peace here is not the absence of

chaos, but the decision to trust God inside it.

Joy for Mary is by not being abandoned in her

most vulnerable moment. Joseph at this moment

does not get a glowing halo to show that he made

the right choice. He gets a dream, a command,

and a lifetime of awkward conversations. Love

according to God. actually looks quieter than

we expect. This is love that carries hope because

Joseph believes God is at work beyond what he

can see. It carries peace, not because things

are calm, but because he entrusts himself to

God's promise. It carries joy, quiet and stubborn,

rooted in faithfulness rather than circumstance,

and it teaches us that love sometimes looks like

staying put when the world says, exit while you

can. But then we turn from the living room of

Nazareth to the throne room of Judah. The tone

shifts, the love is the same, but the posture

is a bit different. You know those moments when

someone has made it clear that they are going

to do exactly what they want. and no one can

change their mind. It doesn't matter what they

learn, it doesn't matter what they see. When

they walk away from the people and the places

that are loving and safe, while then pursuing

those who would make life worse, and they refuse

to do anything differently. Isaiah stands before

King Ahaz, who refuses to change his mind. Because

Ahaz is afraid. The kingdom is under threat.

Enemies are gathering all around. The alliances,

they're being negotiated. The plans are being

made. Ahaz wants control rather than trusting

in God. You see, at this point the king of Judah,

Ahaz, he's considering getting into an alliance

with Assyria, the bad guys. to protect against

the northern Israel and Syria, the two kings

you dread, forcing him to go with them into battle

against Assyria. See, Isaiah though, he's urging

Ahaz not to get into that alliance with Assyria.

To strengthen the force of his advice, Yahweh,

God Himself, through Isaiah, has offered Ahaz

a sign. that Isaiah's advice was sound. Something

to prove. You can trust him. You can listen.

But Ahaz refused. I will not put the Lord to

the test. But Isaiah persists in giving a sign.

You see, God tells Ahaz just to ask for a sign.

Just ask for it. Ask for anything. Depth, height.

God is willing to meet him there, and Ahaz refuses,

and he says, I will not put the Lord to the test.

Isn't it amazing that someone can take something

that sounds so spiritual, so mature, so humble,

but they're actually using it as an excuse to

do the wrong thing? But Isaiah hears it for what

it is. It's not humility. Ahaz is avoiding God.

but dressing it up as piety. This is not Liam

Neeson convincing his son to play the best drum

solo ever to win the girl of his dreams, even

while his own heart is still aching. This is

Isaiah, with his heart in pain for his people,

wishing the king would listen for his own sake

and for the sake of the kingdom. King Ahaz wants

to make his own choices, though, without trusting

in God or anyone besides himself. Ignoring Isaiah's

advice, Ahaz would become a slave to Assyria

and almost lose the kingdom. But here is where

love surprises us again. Isaiah does not back

off. He does not say, well, suit yourself. He

presses in. He speaks anyway. He announces the

sign, whether Ahaz wants it or not, the virgin

shall conceive and bear a son and shall call

his name Immanuel. All that King Ahaz would need

to do is just wait a little longer and Israel

and Syria would no longer be a threat. If he

would sing that the young woman will conceive

and bear a son, Hezekiah, and wait until he was

just three years old, finished with weaning,

he would see that his land was now a place of

peace again, where people were eating curds and

honey. But instead of waiting just a little longer,

Ahaz would choose to offer his loyalty to Assyria

instead of God. And in so doing, Assyria would

take a toll on Judah. Though it would be Hezekiah,

his son, who would keep Assyria from exiling

the nation. You see, this is love that risks

being unwanted. Isaiah loves Judah enough to

tell the truth that they do not want to hear.

He loves the future enough to confront the present.

He loves God enough to say what God has actually

said and not what the king would prefer to hear.

Hope is offered even if it's not received. Peace

here is not reassurance of your choices, but

alignment with God. Joy is delayed because it

will come with the next king, Hezekiah, not immediately.

Sometimes love looks like refusing to pretend

that everything is okay. Sometimes love says

this path that you're going down is dangerous.

That kind of love does not trend well on Insta

where everyone is always perfect. It does not

photograph nicely or make a great AI generated

image of yourself as the Green Ranger fighting

Godzilla. I have no idea who would do that. But

it is still love. Isaiah's love carries hope

because it refuses to believe that fear has the

final word. It carries peace. not by avoiding

conflict, but by anchoring Judah in God's presence.

It carries joy because God is still present and

active even when kings are faithless. And it

shows us that love does not always feel kind

or popular in the moment, but it is faithful

to what leads to life. But Isaiah's sign does

not end with Ahaz though. It stretches forward

across the centuries. The virgin shall conceive

and bear a son and shall call his name, Emmanuel.

Emmanuel. The word could be translated either

the young woman or the virgin. But you see in

Matthew, that ancient promise takes on flesh

and breath in the most impossible way. Love does

not remain there, an idea that we think about

for a few minutes during Charlie Brown. Love

does not stay at a safe distance to keep from

offending or causing discomfort. Love enters

into the world and makes itself felt and known.

Scripture says something bolder than love actually

ever could. Not just that love shows up in unexpected

places, but that God shows up. in the middle

of ordinary, complicated lives, not polished

ones. A carpenter with a reputation to protect,

a young woman with a dangerous secret, a child

born into political tension and family vulnerability.

But God does not fix the world from afar. He

moves into it. And once you see that, You start

seeing echoes of it in the lives of his people.

Love that keeps showing up to care for a parent

whose memory is fading. Love that forgives when

the ball is dropped or the apology is not really

there. Love that stays in a calling after losing

close friends and safe spaces. Love that speaks

truth and still stays at the table to pick up

the pieces. Love that tells you that the job

you thought you would get is not only not yours,

but also that you're not sure where you will

be in the next few months. God's love does not

echo with Hollywood sentimentality. These are

not dramatic movie moments. They do not come

with soundtracks. They do not get cardboard signs.

But they are holy. Hope that God has not abandoned

us, peace that God is present not absent, joy

that God delights in dwelling with his people,

love that does not wait for perfection before

arriving, continuing to bless and love others

even when you feel like you have nothing. God's

love is not cinematic, but it is real. As real

as stopping your disciples from defending you,

knowing how many would end up dying for you if

you let them do so. Knowing the accusations against

you are only half truths that miss out on showing

who you really are and what you're really doing.

Letting the punishment take you not just to the

brink, but to the end. And while you know resurrection

is coming, it does not stop the pain, and the

nothingness of death beforehand. Love does not

fix everything immediately. It enters everything

faithfully. This kind of love, it carries hope

because God refuses to abandon a broken world.

It carries peace because God is present even

when outcomes are uncertain. It carries joy because

salvation begins quietly, not with spectacle.

and that defines love as presence, faithfulness,

self -giving. Even when everything is taken away

and still being willing to bless and love our

neighbor. Advent is almost over. Christmas Eve

is close enough to see it on the calendar for

the week. Soon we will gather again, hear familiar

words and sing songs that we know by heart. or

at least thought we did before we started hearing

our neighbors sing the actual lyrics. But before

we do, Advent asks us to notice something. Love

does not always look the way we expect. It stays

when leaving is easy or even logical. It speaks

when silence feels safer or kinder. It shows

up in ordinary places with extraordinary faithfulness.

Soon we will hear again that the light shines

in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome

it. That's not just poetry. It's a description

of love. Not love as the world markets it, not

love as a feeling that fades, not love in all

those ways, but love actually as God gives it.

And that's the love that comes to us, that stays

with us, and that calls us to live by the faith.

that we have received. Amen. Thanks be to God.