Love, a sermon based on Matthew 1: 18-25, preached on December 21, 2025

Have you ever felt overlooked? Underappreciated? Misunderstood or taken for granted? If so, then you have a friend in Joseph. Unlike Mary, there aren’t many songs about Joseph. There are a couple. In the early service, I said that there aren’t any songs about Joseph, but Cheryl Davenport knows of three, and Herbert Kearse knows of another. Certainly, there’s no song about Joseph that’s we’ve heard as much as Mary, Did You Know? or Ave Maria. The best of all the songs about Mary, in my opinion, is Momma Mary by Roger Whittiker. It makes my mother-in-law cry. It touches her heart. It goes like this: Tell me how did you feel when the angel came into the garden? How did you feel? How did you feel? When he said "If you're afraid I beg your pardon But you're the one to bear God's son.” It’s a great song. My mother-in-law loves it, only why aren’t there more songs that ask Joseph how he was feeling? Why hasn’t anyone sung, “Joseph, did you know?” Imagine with me what you would be feeling if you were in Joseph’s shoes. You’re engaged to be married. The wedding plans are in place. There have already been multiple bridal showers. Invitations have been sent. Maybe, because you’re a carpenter, you’ve already put an addition onto the house, or maybe you’ve been working on a bed for your bride to sleep in. I don’t know exactly what it was like. There aren’t any songs about it to tell us, so just imagine what it would have been like for you to find out that, after you’ve told everyone and prepared in various ways, Mary was “found to be with child,” and the child wasn’t yours. How would you have felt? What would you have been thinking? Now, imagine what your mother would have said. It’s hard enough for the daughter in-law-to-be. I was once a son-in-law-to-be. I love my mother- and father-in-law very much, but about the time Sara and I were getting serious, her father bought a revolver. He did. He said it was because of the wild boar that had invaded their property up on the mountain. Yet it may also have been because a wild young man had invaded his daughter’s heart. It’s hard to be the son-in-law to be. From what I’ve heard, it’s harder to be the daughter-in-law to be. How much more so when the wedding hasn’t happened, the bride is pregnant, and the baby isn’t the groom’s. “Well, I never liked her anyway,” Joseph’s mother might have said. Parents can be like that. People can be like that. But the angel of God calls on Joseph to be more than that. We read in the Gospel of Matthew: “Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.” Only then, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” That’s a high calling, right there. While it’s not as heavy a load to bear as the one Mary is asked to carry, consider Joseph with me. Imagine what it would have been like to be in his shoes. Like Mary, God called on Joseph to step out in faith: to take a step, not based on what his eyes could see but based on what God had said. Believe, the angel said. Trust, the angel said. Have faith, the angel said. The faith God calls on Joseph to have is a particular kind of faith. The faith of Joseph takes the form of love. “Love her anyway,” the angel said. “Cherish her anyway.” “Stand by her anyway.” That’s the call of Joseph, and while you may know what it feels like to be overlooked, underappreciated, misunderstood, or taken for granted, I hope you also know what it feels like to be seen, to be loved, to be appreciated, understood, and valued. That’s the call of the angels to Joseph, and that’s the work of God. I read last week in our book of Advent Reflections that Jane Manning put together with our Director of Communication, Kelly Dewar. I’ve started each day this Advent season reading a brief reflection written by a member of our church, and one of the most powerful was written by three young mothers, Stephanie Schmid, Lisa Stokes, and Caitlin Watkins, who celebrated with Mary, who declares that God, “has looked on the humble estate of his servant.” Now this sermon is about Joseph, but know that Mary is able to do what she is able to do because she knows that God sees her and understands her. The three young women who wrote the devotional celebrated this quality of God. In other words, God sees me, they declared. In those thankless moments of parenthood when you work hard to get a dinner on the table yet no one takes the time to say thank you; when you pack nut-free lunches for a preschooler who only wants to eat his dessert; when you organize a birthday party that ends in tears; when you give up your career and no one seems to understand, God sees it all. That’s true. And God, who sees it all, invited Joseph to see Mary. God invited Joseph to see Mary, not the way the gossips in the community saw her, but the way that God saw her. Joseph is a hero of the faith because he had faith enough to love Mary, to believe Mary, to trust Mary, to stand beside Mary, even as his mother was ready to throw her out. Now that wasn’t easy for Joseph, and so he deserves a song. He has four, but I don’t know any of them. The song I do know that gets to this same sentiment was written by R. E. M. You probably know it: When your day is long And the night, the night is yours alone When you’re sure you’ve had enough Of this life Well hang on. Don’t let yourself go Cause everybody cries Everybody hurts sometimes. Do you know that song? Live that song. Dare to believe that everyone is carrying a burden. Before you judge, dare to show compassion. Before you assume, dare to understand. Even when the world would allow you to gossip, hate, deport, dismiss, or imprison, choose to love. Last night, I was honored to take part in the Christmas Program at Turner Chapel African Methodist Episcopal Church. It was an incredible evening. I was honored to be invited, and from the parking lot to the pew, I was welcomed so warmly. I sat next to Chief Deputy Rhonda Anderson, who runs the Cobb County Jail. She was invited to lead the service, too. I’ve known the Chief for a while now. She’s been instrumental in our partnership with the jail that has resulted in our church providing books for the library and clothes for men and women upon their release. She’s an incredible person, and there’s always a smile on her face. “Chief, if you’re at the jail all day, how do you keep your joy intact?” I asked her, just making conversation before the program started. “I treat everyone with respect,” she said. “When you give respect, you get respect.” That just blew my mind, but she’s right. Joseph had the chance to dismiss Mary quietly. Instead, he chose to love her. Instead, he chose to see her. Instead, he chose to stand beside her, even as the community whispered behind her back. Have you heard whom our community is whispering about now? It happens all the time and in every season, yet I call on you to show them respect. Dare to see them, not as the world sees, but as God sees, for when we dare to see and appreciate and value, wonderful things happen. Did you hear what Kirby Smart did? He’s done a lot, so let me be more specific. Two members of our congregation play in the University of Georgia Marching Band. They are Jacob Duda and Joel Clotfelter, and along with the rest of the Redcoat Marching Band, they practice multiple times every week. They travel along with the University of Georgia Football team, but there is no NIL money for the marching band. They inspire the team, yet they do not make the highlight reel on ESPN. They provide a homefield advantage no matter where the bulldogs are playing, and yet they are unsung heroes, and so, when Coach Kirby Smart, after the Bulldogs beat Alabama, took the time to acknowledge them on national television, it made a difference to them - a wonderful difference to them, for there is tremendous power in taking the time to notice, in taking the time to say, “Thank you.” Dare to see people as Joseph saw Mary. Dare to love people as God loves you. We’ve had the pleasure of welcoming new members into this church in recent weeks, and we’ve welcomed 485 since 2017. That’s a lot of people, yet so many of them say the same thing. They say things like, “I tried a lot of churches and was able to slip in and out without being noticed, but here, people took the time to welcome me. They called me by name. They helped me find my way. This is the kind of church that I want to be a part of.” This is how we make the love of God known, not by assuming we know, not by following the judgementalism of the world, but by loving beyond appearances, embodying the love of God. Amen.

Hope, a sermon based on Romans 13: 11-14, preached on November 30, 2025

Last Thursday made me very hopeful. It made my mom hopeful, too. My mom, dad, and sister came into town from North Carolina last week to visit, and near the end of Thanksgiving Day, my Mom said, “Today made me hopeful for the whole world.” By the end of that day, I was feeling the same way, but my hope last Thursday began small. Last Thursday morning as I started the Gobble Jog, I just hoped that I would survive to the end of the first mile. That was it. All I had was just a glimmer of hope that I would finish the Gobble Job, but that’s OK because hope can start small. When it comes to hope, it only takes a spark, so, on this first Sunday of the season of Advent, as we light the first Advent candle, the candle of hope, together we heard: While the world says, “all is lost,” our God says, “all are loved.” While the darkness says, “the Light is dying,” the Light of the World says, “the fire is catching.” While fear says, “Cover your eyes and your ears,” Hope says, “Wait, watch and listen,” for change is coming into the world. As we all wait for change to come into the world, I want you to know that hope may begin with just a spark, just a flicker, just the whisp of a dream, yet it grows. Today, we remember the words of the Apostle Paul, who wrote, “We are closer now to salvation than when we first began,” for while hope came into the world as just a child, just a spark, hope grows to change the world. That’s the Good News we read from our second Scripture lesson. The Apostle Paul claims that the night is far gone. The day is near, and last Thursday, I could see it. It started while I was breathing heavy, running uphill, and as I climbed a hill, which at the top stands Kennestone Hospital, my only hope was, “I hope I survive.” Yet as I kept going, I realized that although I was breathing hard, I wasn’t just surviving. I was moving. I was even keeping up with my wife. That’s a little unusual for me. It used to be that the only time I would run with her was when she was pushing both our daughters in the stroller. When she was pushing a stroller with two children, then I could keep up with her because she was so weighted down, but last Thursday, recognizing that I wasn’t just surviving, that I was keeping up with Sara, my hope just kept growing. It grew as I ran, step by step, stride by stride, mile by mile. Then a few hours after finishing the Gobble Jog, I was here at the church with about 75 volunteers getting ready to serve a Thanksgiving meal to the community. Think about that number with me. 75 people were in our Great Hall getting ready to serve Thanksgiving dinner last Thursday. In a world where some say that selfishness is growing to epidemic proportions, 75 people showed up to feed strangers. In a world of division, church members who have been in this county for generations sat down to break bread with recent immigrants from Brazil, college and high school students ate with retirees, families were serving together alongside those who would have been alone on Thanksgiving Day. The rich and the poor, the young and the old, the well-connected and the isolated, all came together for one meal. And that effort started small as well. It started with nothing more than an idea voiced by Keri-Lyn Coleman. As a member of our church, she knew that hundreds of people come through our food line before Thanksgiving to get a turkey and produce, but if they’re living in an extended stay hotel, that turkey won’t do them any good because you can’t cook a turkey in a microwave. “Should we have a meal here?” she asked me. That was the spark. Then came the committee work. Presbyterians love committees. I know I do, especially when, instead of slowly strangling an idea with red tape, they help it grow. After Keri-Lyn sparked this idea, I asked a group of our church’s leaders to consider it. After balking slightly, they agreed to try it, then fund it. After that, I asked Chef Tom McEachern to consider cooking for this meal. After initially saying, “I already have plan on Thanksgiving Day,” Chef McEachern said, “We can cook the food Monday through Wednesday, then we can reheat it all on Thanksgiving morning,” so that’s what his crew of people did. They cooked turkey, stuffing, green beans, rolls, sweet potatoes, and cranberry sauce for 250. A crew led by Jane Pratt and Melissa Ricketts set up the Great Hall. They set the tables with white table clothes and candles. They put out the silverware. They adorned each table with a centerpiece. This room was ready, and people were fed. After cleaning up and taking a nap, my mom and dad took us all to Cirque du Soleil to watch a bunch of acrobats fly around in a tent. Have you heard of that show? It’s an experience. It’s like Ringling Brothers but more pretentious, but my parents love it. They bought us great tickets, and the tent was full of different kinds of people, speaking different languages, all spell bound by these performers. One performer, a contortionist, could bend so far backwards that he made me queasy, but between the meal here and the people of every nation gathered under the big top at Cirque du Soleil, my mother said, “Today made me hopeful for the whole world,” because she could see the light burning so brightly, yet I tell you all fires begin with just a spark. On this first Sunday of the season of Advent, we light the candle of hope. Hope is the theme of this sermon despite the sermon title printed in your bulletin. Hope is the theme of today, and I’m talking to you about hope, but the Apostle Paul in the book of Romans is talking to us about licentiousness. What is licentiousness? It sounds sinful, doesn’t it? It is. Don’t google it. Let me just summarize. There is a commonality between all the sins the Apostle Paul lists in our second Scripture lesson for today. What do reveling, drunkenness, illicit sex, licentiousness, quarrelling, and jealousy all have in common? They all reduce human beings into objects or enemies. They leave no room for reconciliation. You can’t love your neighbor as yourself if you treat her like an object. When you replace love with momentary pleasure. When you quarrel to win rather than to reconcile. When you look at your neighbor in jealousy, you can’t love him as yourself. And not only that. All that momentary pleasure leads to chains that hold you captive, for seeking solace in jealousy keeps you so focused on other people that you’re distracted from making a change in your own life. Drunkenness is like a pet boa constrictor that grows until it squeezes the life from your bones. Quarrelling says, “I’d rather win this argument than have peace,” and Paul warns us to lay aside our addiction to these sins of the flesh because while they may gratify us for a little while, while they may all make for good TV, they’ll also all bind us in chains. They hold us captive in the darkness and slowly but surely they all become a trap, so remember hope today and know that one day without a drink can become two. One day without jealousy can become a year. One day without licentiousness can be the start of something, for step by step, hope grows. Step by step, change comes. Step by step, the light spread, the darkness is pushed back. The power of God may start small, yet it becomes magnified. That’s what they remember in AA. A couple weeks ago, I attended a meeting to celebrate with a member of our church who received his two-year chip, but it began with just one day. One day without a drink. That’s how it starts. Step by step leads to a mile. Step by step, change comes. Step by step, hope grows. Hope springs forth in just a spark of light, yet if we nurture that light, if we fan its flame, the fire pushes back the shadow. That’s a spiritual practice I encourage you to take on this Advent season: the spiritual practice of daring to take one small step. My friends, if we believe the Light is coming into the world. If we believe the Savior is on His way. If we believe that we are closer to salvation now than when we first began, then stop being intimidated by the power of evil in the world. Look at the powers that hold you captive and take one small step towards freedom. Throw off the work of darkness for just one day and watch the darkness fade. Watch the hope grow. Notice the change that comes. This Advent season, think about the challenges you face, the bullies who have been running over you, and stop giving into them. Stop wishing that your dreams would become a reality, and take one small step, voice one defiant word, just start the journey knowing that we’re going to get there, and find that the power of darkness has a little less control over your life. For the days are surely coming when they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, but we don’t need to wait to hope for peace. We know that the days are surely coming when Light will dawn and the power of darkness will be overcome, but we don’t need to twiddle our thumbs until that day. Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh to gratify its desires. Take one step towards freedom. Take one step towards hope. Amen.