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© 2025 The Rev. Seth Olson
This sermon was preached on the First Sunday of Advent at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. A video of this message may be found here (at the 13:15 mark).
Holy God, let my words be your words, and when they are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.
It always surprises people when they come to church on the First Sunday of Advent expecting manger scenes and shepherds…
…and instead get Jesus talking about floods and thieves.
It’s not exactly “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” material.
But this is how the Church keeps time.
Before we get to the Christ Child, before we get to that holy night in Bethlehem, we start with Jesus saying:
“Keep awake.”
Which is to say:
“Live with awareness. Live with attention. Live with your eyes open.”
Not in fear, but in hope.
This text is not about being afraid.
It is about learning to see God — to notice God — in the present moment.
This Sunday we step out of the long companionship we’ve had with Luke — the Gospel writer who sings of universal welcome, table fellowship, God’s love for the outsider and the poor — and we step into Matthew’s world. Matthew’s Gospel has a different tone. Sharper edges. A sense of urgency. A focus on the Kingdom of Heaven breaking in.
Matthew is writing to a Jewish-Christian community who had just lost the Temple — the center of their spiritual world. Everything familiar had collapsed. And into that grief, the Jesus depicted by Matthew seemingly says, “Something new is coming. God is not finished. Stay awake.”
If Luke wants us to see God in the feast, Matthew wants us to see God in the disruption. In the unexpected. In the cracks of ordinary life. And it is exactly there that Advent meets us.
Now let’s clear up one of the biggest misunderstandings about this passage. Jesus says, “One will be taken and one left.” For the past 190 years — less than 10% of Christian History — some have used this passage to predict something called “the rapture.”
You know the idea: People vanishing into thin air, piles of clothes left behind, bumper stickers that say “In case of rapture this car will be unmanned.”
But here’s the problem: Rapture theology didn’t exist in the early Church. Not in the medieval Church. Not in the Reformation. Not in Jesus' time. Not until 1830 — when it first appeared in Scotland and was later popularized in American revivalism.
In Matthew’s context, the ones who are “taken” in the flood are those swept away in destruction. The ones left behind are the ones remaining to rebuild. Jesus is not predicting a rapture. Jesus is calling his disciples — calling us — to be spiritually awake. To be ready for where God is breaking into our lives here and now. This text is not about escaping the world. This text is about paying attention to God’s presence in the world.
There’s another phrase here that gets misunderstood: The “coming of the Son of Man.” In Greek the word doesn’t mean “arrival from far away.” It means something more akin to presence. A coming presence, a manifestation, or a revelation. A presence that is already close — becoming tangible and real to us.
In other words, the “coming” of Christ is not God swooping in from on high — as sad as that makes me because my favorite hymn, just might be “Lo, He Comes With Clouds Descending.” But God is already here, suddenly perceived by us who so often overlook the holy everywhere.
So maybe, the Advent question is not “When will Christ come?” but something like: “Where is Christ already present — and have I been awake enough to recognize God?”
St. Bernard of Clairvaux, abbot, mystic, and co-founder of the Knights Templar, understood this reality, for he professed three comings of Christ:
1. The First Coming — in Bethlehem, in the flesh.
2. The Final Coming — when God makes all things new, perfects all things.
3. The Middle Coming — the one that happens every day, in every moment, in every human heart.
That middle coming is the heart of Advent. Because Christ comes to us not only in ancient history or distant future, but right here:
- in the neighbor sitting beside us in the pew, and
- in that other neighbor who annoys us the most,
- in the beauty of creation,
- in the crack of dawn breaking over a very tired world,
- and yes — even within us, and sometimes precisely in the parts we’re ashamed of. The parts we hide. The parts we call our “shadow selves.”
In this season when it gets darker and darker, it's easier for us to sit in the darkness to wait for the light. Advent says: Christ comes into our shadow, too. Not to condemn it — but to heal it. To claim it. To love it into wholeness. This is the presence of Christ awakening us not from the outside but from the inside.
There is a reason the Church starts Advent not with shepherds but with wakefulness. The people of God have always needed a reminder that the world is full of distractions — full of noise — full of ways to numb ourselves from the pain, the beauty, and the reality of our lives. To lull us back to sleep.
But Jesus shocks us awake saying: “Just as a thief comes in the night…” so will God's appearing be. Now here's the point: it's not that Jesus is a thief. The point is unexpectedness. Wakefulness means being able to recognize God’s presence even when we didn’t plan for it.
To say it plainly: Advent is not about predicting God’s arrival. Advent is about seeing God’s presence here and now.
When Jesus says, “Keep awake,” he’s not telling us to be anxious or to drink a ton of Red Bulls or chug a bunch of coffee. He’s telling us to be attentive, to remain spiritually aware, looking for Christ at all times, in all places, and in everyone we meet. Because the Kingdom of Heaven isn’t some far-off reality. It is breaking in right here, right now.
Right in the middle of your life.
- Every moment of forgiveness is Advent (God coming to us).
- Every act of generosity is Advent.
- Every quiet morning cup of coffee with gratitude is Advent.
- Every time you refuse cynicism and choose compassion is Advent.
- Every time you tell the truth, every time you choose hope over despair… Advent is happening.
The world is full of Advent moments. We just need the eyes to see them.
So how do we do that? How do we “keep awake” in real life?
Here are three simple, practical Advent practices for you, Holy Apostles:
1. Pay attention to interruptions.
God shows up in the things we didn’t plan:
a phone call,
a difficult conversation,
a moment of unexpected beauty,
a neighbor who needs something simple.
Interruptions are often Advent incarnations.
2. Slow down — even for five minutes.
Light a candle.
Say a prayer.
Sit in silence.
Let your heart catch up with your life.
Advent rewards slowness.
3. Look for Christ in people — all people.
Not just the lovely ones.
Not just the ones who agree with us.
Christ comes in the face of every human being — especially the ones we avoid.
These are simple practices.
But simple is how we wake up.
So here is the heart of the matter: Advent is not about fear. Advent is not about prediction. Advent is not about escaping the world. Advent is about presence. God’s presence. Christ’s presence. The Spirit’s presence. Already here. Already stirring. Already whispering, “Wake up. Pay attention. I’m right here.”
The world wants to lull us to sleep. Jesus wants to awaken us to life.
And Holy Apostles — if we live this Advent awake… if we walk through this season with eyes open… if we dare to believe that Christ is showing up in every corner of our lives — then I promise you: We will not miss him when he comes.
Because we will already have seen him — in each other, in creation, and in the hidden corners of our own hearts. And for God’s presence reality… Thanks be to God.
Amen.
