The Rev’d Ivica Gregurec

Advent 4

Readings: Isaiah 7:10-16; Psalm 80:1-7,17-19; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25

In the name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

On this Fourth Sunday of Advent, the mood changes. The waiting is almost
over. The candles are nearly all lit. The Church invites us to stand at the
threshold of Christmas – not yet at the manger, but close enough to sense that
something decisive is about to happen.

The Fourth Sunday of Advent is not about rushing forward. It is about pausing,
about listening, about attending to the quiet ways in which God comes. The
readings today draw us into that space between promise and fulfilment, where
faith is formed not by certainty, but by trust.

In Isaiah, we meet King Ahaz at a moment of fear and political instability. He
reigned in Judah (the Southern Kingdom). During his reign (around 734–732
BC) happened the Syro-Ephraimite crisis. This was the period when Judah
faced pressure from Israel and Aram (Syria) to join their rebellion against the
rising Assyrian Empire. When King Ahaz of Judah refused, Aram and Israel
threatened to invade Jerusalem and replace him with a puppet king. In fear,
Ahaz sought protection from Assyria instead of trusting God, a decision
strongly criticised by the prophet Isaiah.

This crisis forms the immediate background to Isaiah’s promise of the sign of
Emmanuel. Namely, Ahaz is anxious about the future, under pressure from
forces beyond his control. God invites him to ask for a sign – something
dramatic, something unmistakable. But Ahaz refuses. His refusal sounds pious,
but Isaiah knows better. Ahaz does not want a sign because a sign would
require change. He would rather manage the situation himself than entrust it
to God.

God gives a sign anyway – not the kind Ahaz expected. ‘The young woman is
with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.’ A child. A
fragile life. The sign is not power, but presence. The promise is not escape from
difficulty, but that God will be with God’s people in the midst of it. Emmanuel –
God with us.

This is Advent faith. Not the assurance that everything will be easy, but the
promise that we will not be alone.

Psalm 80 gives words to the longing of Advent. ‘Restore us, O God; let your face
shine, that we may be saved.’ It is a prayer shaped by weariness and hope
together. The psalm does not deny pain; it names it. Yet it continues to hope
that God’s face will shine again. Advent allows us to hold those two realities
together: the brokenness of the world, and the stubborn hope that God is still
at work.

That hope takes flesh in the Gospel, not first through Mary, but through Saint
Joseph. Matthew’s account invites us to look closely at a man who often
remains in the background. Joseph is described as righteous – and
righteousness here is not harshness, but mercy. When he discovers that Mary
is pregnant, he plans to step aside quietly, to protect her dignity and her life.
Even before the angel appears, Joseph chooses compassion.

Then, in a dream, God speaks: ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid.’ Those
words belong deeply to Advent. Fear is one of the great barriers to faith – fear
of change, fear of misunderstanding, fear of loss, fear that we are never
adequate to be the followers of Christ. Joseph is not given a detailed
explanation. He is given a promise and a command: trust, and take Mary as
your wife.

Joseph’s obedience is quiet, but it is courageous. He accepts a role he did not
choose. He embraces a future that will include misunderstanding and
vulnerability. He becomes the guardian of a mystery he does not fully
comprehend. In doing so, he shows us that faith is not about having answers; it
is about faithfulness.

Though Matthew does not give Mary a voice in this Gospel, she is never absent
from the story. She stands alongside Joseph as a living sign of Isaiah’s
prophecy. In Fourth Sunday of Advent, the Church invites us to see Mary not
only as the bearer of Christ, but as an icon of trust. She opens her life to God’s
promise, not knowing where it will lead, yet believing that God is faithful.
Paul, writing to the Romans, reminds us that this child is not a myth or an idea.
Jesus is rooted in real history – descended from David, born into a particular
people, at a particular time. And yet, through him, grace is extended to all.
Advent is not nostalgia; it is anticipation. The God who came once continues to
come, calling us into obedience of faith.

There is something deeply wonderful in this vision: God chooses to come to us
through human lives, through bodies, through ordinary acts of trust. The
Incarnation tells us that God’s grace is mediated – through Mary’s yes, through
Joseph’s obedience, through the flesh and blood of Jesus himself.

As Advent draws to a close, we are invited to ask: where is God asking us not
to be afraid? Where are we being called to trust, even without full clarity? Like
Ahaz, we may resist God’s sign because it unsettles us. Or like Joseph and
Mary, we may discover that saying yes opens the way for God to dwell among
us.

In a world marked by uncertainty, conflict, and fear, the promise of the Fourth
Sunday of Advent is simple and profound: God is with us. Not only in joy, but in
confusion; not only in certainty, but in faithfulness; not only at Christmas, but
in every fragile beginning.

As we come to the altar today, we stand where Joseph once stood – receiving
Christ into our care. In bread and wine, God again chooses nearness. The
promise spoken by Isaiah, prayed by the psalmist, entrusted to Mary, and
obeyed by Joseph, is given to us.

So as we wait, as we listen, as we prepare our hearts, may we hear the angel’s
words addressed to us: Do not be afraid. The God who comes is already with
us. Amen.