Sermons

Advent I 29 November 2020 May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be always acceptable in thy sight, o Lord, my strength and my redeemer. Advent comes around each year to remind us to tune out the world’s noise, its distractions, and its delusions. This is ever so welcome and needed this year, 2020, the year that no one will ever forget. Advent and Lent are the two great seasons of the year that the Church gives us to prepare ourselves for eternity. It is

“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” There is no music so sublime as our Christmas hymns. Why is that? There is something mysterious, nearly haunting about their melodies. All Advent and Christmas traditions feel enchanted in this way, almost magical, haunted by a presence familiar and otherworldly. The Christmas tree, the lights, the

“If I only touch his garment, I shall be made well.” The woman bled for twelve years. A lot of people live in chronic pain, but this was different. She was unclean. She was an untouchable. Her condition, by Jewish hygienic standards, cut her off from normal human society. She was quarantined to social isolation. She is the mascot for us in 2020. American novelist, Wendell Berry, tells a story about the end of the front-porch culture. He tells it through the eyes of a fictiona

“You have been set apart as holy to the LORD your God, and he has chosen you from all the nations of the earth to be his own special treasure” (Deut. 14:2). Where do we move from here? This is the question on everyone’s heart. After the elections this week, our nation is torn between two camps. I do not mean two political camps. The real battle in America is a battle of faiths: faith in the god of secularism and faith in the God of Truth. There has always been a rift, but thi

He rose at dawn and fired with hope, Shot o’er the seething harbor-bar, And reach’d the ship and caught the rope, And whistled to the morning star. Nothing is so fervent as the zeal of a young adult eager to explore. A poet captured this zeal in his poem, The Sailor Boy. The youth wakes at the crack of dawn and runs out to the ship. He leans towards the sea as far as he can. He is so excited, he looks up at the stars and whistles. Then a voice cries out from the depths. It is