Wake Up… It’s ADVENT!

Isaiah 2:1-5

Psalm 122

Romans 13:11-14

Matthew 24:36-44

 

© 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.

 

Bad Analogy Sunday

 

Despite what my childhood self would have wanted, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit do not come together to form God, like a mega-robot in Voltron or the Power Rangers (that's Partialism), and just one of the many Bad Analogies preached today!

May 30, 2021—The First Sunday After Pentecost—Trinity Sunday (Year B)

Isaiah 6:1-8
Psalm 29

Romans 8:12-17
John 3:1-17

© 2021 Seth Olson 

Holy and undivided Trinity, One God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be cunning enough to know the same. Amen.

Good morning and welcome to Bad Analogy Sunday. Or, as it is also known Trinity Sunday. This is a day when preachers hop into the pulpit and do their best… not to commit heresies or theological atrocities. This is a day when we try to say just the right things about who God is. Often in the process the sermon-giver bores the congregation into submission and all leave displeased or upset.

Maybe this is a good time to say hello to everyone who is coming to All Saints for the first time, WELCOME! Perhaps you are looking for a church home after the pandemic or trying to make meaning out of the last fifteen months. Now usually on Sunday mornings we do not celebrate a theological doctrine, nor do we attempt to simplify the immense nature of God into a ten or eleven-minute homily. Still, it feels fitting to be talking about the complex nature of God in this complicated world in which we live.

Just like it is nearly impossible to easily explain the challenges we have lived through during this pandemic, it’s nearly impossible to easily explain the nature of the Trinity. Still, we preachers try, and we do so with terrible analogies. For example, that God is like the three states of water: ice, liquid, and vapor. This, of course, is Modalism, which is a heresy that wrongly claims God is not three distinct persons, but rather takes three different forms. Or, we say that God is like a star that creates light and heat, which is Arianism. Arianism is another heresy that wrongly attests that the Son and the Spirit are subordinate creatures of God the Father.[1] Or, my favorite bad analogy, to become God the Father, the Son, and the Spirit must come together like a mega-robot in Voltron or the Power Rangers (That’s Partialism). There are many other bad analogies wheeled out today (keep reading you might spot another), for today preachers try to explain our infinitely transcendent and indelibly intimate God who is Father, Son, and Spirit!

Now, your being here is not all bad. Watching homilists on this day is sort of akin to watching an athlete, like a gymnast trying a never before completed vault or a steeple chaser trying to clear the big water jump. Part of what is captivating is knowing that at any moment the competitor could crash and burn. But, why is that? Why is talking about the Trinity so tough?

In the Western world, we do not do well with ambiguity, such as God being three-in-one and one-in-three. The West craves certainty. We want to know for sure. We desire certitude beyond a shadow of a doubt! But, let's face it, we have reached an age of laziness when it comes to pursuing the truth. When we want to know now, we just google it, right?

Nowadays, what matters most is not actually gathering evidence, but rather fighting for the position, the candidate, or the side that we feel is right. So many are too entrenched in one way of thinking to see beyond the way they have always seen things. So, what happens? Either/or thinking emerges.

We see the world in binaries, dichotomies, black or white thinking. And we say things like, “One of us is right and the other is wrong. It is either true or false. That person is either gay or straight, male or female, black or white, Christian or not, American or not, us or them.” Not only this, but a moralistic overlay gets placed on top of this way of seeing the world. And people believe that one way—their way—is good and the other is bad. So, to talk about the Trinity is not only precarious—because I might put my foot in my mouth—but it is also subversive and even a little dangerous because it runs counter-cultural opposing this either/or way. Usually in the Church we have an authority on challenging subjects and turning to it, you might wonder, what do our Holy Scriptures say about the Trinity? 

Often our Biblical passages throughout the Sunday Lectionary (the readings we hear each week) provide us with clarity. However, today it is a bit more challenging. When the Books of the Bible were written the Church had a very primitive articulation of the Trinity. God as Father, Son, and Spirit did, does, and always will exist, but the early Church’s expression of the Trinity was in its theological infancy.

So why shoehorn a complex idea into the Sunday after Pentecost? Why cobble together bits of Holy Scripture that barely mention the persons of the Trinity? What is the point of this day when we celebrate God as three-in-one and one-in-three? For one, we do this because it is God’s eternal nature. God is Father, Son, and Spirit. God has always been this divine community that is forever and always both distinct and united at the same time. But, given our current context of either/or, us/them, my tribe/your tribe existence the concept of not two, but three-in-one and one-in-three challenges the black or white lens through which we so often see the world.

This bucks against our desire to talk about God in a definitive way, but when we do this we can fumble and stumble too. Like saying that God’s nature is akin to an egg—whites, yoke, and shell—which is actually Tritheism, or the belief that there are 3 gods who share the same substance. Working out what we believe about God is good and right so to do, as is saying something conclusive.

And, as much as I am poking some fun at historical heresies, individually we will struggle to fully articulate the indescribable nature of God. So, when other people say something different about who God is, what if, instead of immediately casting them out as wrong, we listened? I wonder, how will we learn about the complexities of God if we only rely upon how we individually see God? How will we learn of the nuances of each other if we have already made up our minds about who the other is? The Divine Community of the Trinity teaches us that something can be multiple things at the same time, even if you or I can only see one of those viewpoints.

The mysterious nature of the Trinity makes sense one moment and defies our feeble minds the next. God is Father, but God is also Son, but God is also Spirit. God is Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer all at once. While none of these is the other, they are all God, and they are all one. One equals not the other, but all equal God. To see this truth though we cannot simply see things with our either/or, literal minds. This is what got Nicodemus stuck, at least for a time.

In today’s Gospel lesson, we heard Jesus say that one must be born “again.” The word for “again” is also the word for “from above.” Jesus was talking about both at the same time. Nicodemus only heard “again,” and thus was stuck. He could not get the full grasp of who God was in that moment, for he was seeing through a literal lens.

We too can see get stuck seeing God or other people with either/or vision. However, this will only allow a very limited view of God or the world. A view that will keep us thinking only on the literal level. Now, here’s the thing, we need the literal level, but to see the immensity of God we need both/and vision. We really need beyond both/and vision—sort of like having beyond 20/20 vision. We need three-and-one vision. We must be willing to be mystified, stupefied, and astonished by God being THREE—Father, Son, Spirit—AND ONE—God.

The gift that Trinity Sunday provides us is not good preaching—by now you all clearly know that. Rather, the gift is an opportunity to wonder about the ultimate reality of who God is. God and the multiverse that God creates goes far beyond a literal, either/or existence. The Trinity and our wrestling with this BIG theological idea gifts us with a chance. A chance to see what is on the surface and what runs much deeper. It helps us to see that we need each other’s viewpoints, especially today as we come back together and discern who God is calling us to be beyond this pandemic. In God’s very nature we are gifted this opening to dream beyond the either/or thinking that pervades so much of society. We are invited to see that God’s essence is divine community, which is what we are called to be as well. May we expand our vision to see the beauty, the enormity, and the complexity of each other and God who is one-in-three and three-in-one. Amen.

---

[1] “St. Patrick’s Bad Analogies” Lutheran Satire, published March 14, 2013, accessed May 30, 2021, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQLfgaUoQCw&t=99s.

The Martyrs of New Guinea and the Call to Lay Down Our Lives for Christ

Last Fall I went up to Sewanee to visit one of my best friends. He was in town from Boston so that he could see his family and a few friends. There was a big dinner party that night, and even without my collar on conversation around me quickly turned to religious matters, spiritual questions, and social justice issues. Most of the time I love discussing all of these matters, but as one who spends much of my business hours conversing on such issues, I was hoping to talk about playoff baseball, autumn leaves, or reminisce of days as a student there. I had no such luck.

One party-goer, a long-time Episcopalian and life-long Christian said she had been going to the Rite I service that her church in Sewanee had recently been offering. With a look of disgust she said to me, “What’s with all the blood? I mean is it necessary that we talk about Jesus’ blood all the time?” Half a drink this very compassionate follower of Jesus confided that she was struggling with the importance of Jesus’ death. Why did Jesus have to die? And on a day when we remember the Martyrs of New Guinea why do others have to die or why do they choose to die so that they can follow Jesus?

Many times in seminary we talked about various theories about why it was that Jesus died. We who are sinful were being ransomed from the debt that we owed to God. This was one theory for which I did not particularly care. God does not love what God created? How could this be when we know God made all things good and gave grace even when removing Adam and Eve from Eden? Another theory says that the Devil has our sinful souls in his grip and Jesus came to free us from that torturous fate. While I certainly believe there are forces of evil at work in this world, and ones beyond our control or comprehension, I am uncertain of the validity of this claim. So why did Jesus have to die? Why was his blood shed? How come others choose to succumb to a violent end themselves?

Throughout the history of Creation God has poured out his love upon Creation. We begin Eucharistic Prayer A by saying “Holy and Gracious Father in your infinite love you made us for yourself.” God made us because of the overabundance of the love shared between and among Father, Son, and Spirit. That love overran (intentionally) the persons of the Trinity and blossomed into Creation! When we as humans have tried to stray God has been present every step of the way ushering us back into that love from which we began. Although we continued to rebel and seek our own way adopting the same sin as our first parents, God was there every step of the way eventually going so far as to send the clearest example of that love. Fully divine, fully human Jesus chose to love us by the way that he lived, moved, and had his being on this earth.

His message of love and inclusion was too radical for his day and could not be accepted. But rather than shying away from that resistance Jesus chose to love us fully human people even through a bloody, gruesome death. When I heard this woman’s questions a year ago I could not articulate exactly why it was so important that Jesus’ blood be shed. I am still not certain that was the only way that God could save us from our sinful ways. Still what happened on the Cross was a shockwave that still reverberates to this day.

During World War II the Christian people of New Guinea were persecuted by Japanese invaders. They were tortured and killed. And yet they endured. Today there are followers of Christ who are persecuted for what they believe around this globe. There are also other innocent people of many different faiths who are killed unjustly. The blood that Jesus shed was shed for all not to gross us out or to pay off a debt to God, but rather so that we might experience in our hearts once for all that nothing not death, not persecution, not the act of any human being, religion, or government can separate us from the love that God has for each and every one of us.

We too are called to lay down our lives to follow God and to share in God’s love. The way that we practice our martyrdom happens when we come to church and neglect what we would otherwise be doing. It happens when we give up watching TV or a great book to go see someone who is stuck in the hospital. We are martyrs when we give up what we want to do and instead follow the voice of Christ calling us into love. Love is where we started, it is where we are going, and it is what we are called to do by God every day that we live!

Brack-ra-mental Theology

While these are my picks, I promise they won't all be right!

Let the MADNESS BEGIN! Of course, if you have been a dutiful Lenten pilgrim you have already been engaging in holy madness for a month now by participating in Lent Madness. With all due respect to the play-in games and Lent Madness, today a nation-sweeping, productivity-ruining madness starts as the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament gets underway. How many games into the tournament will your bracket remain flawless? How much money will the United States economy lose due to workers watching these games over the next three weeks? ($134 million in the first two days alone?) Will anyone pick every game correctly due to selecting their favorite mascot, team color, or the most attractive coach? What does any of this have to do with our relationship with God or each other? Wait, what?

I hear the groans and sighs all the way through the internet, as you are thinking, "Why do you have to turn everything into something related to God? Can't you just let a basketball tournament be a basketball tournament?" In short, NO! Sorry friends, but even in the mundane I tend to find the magnificence of the Divine. March Madness is no exception.

Before going any further though, I need to attempt to operationally define the word sacrament.The good ol' Book of Common Prayer states, "The sacraments are outward and visible signs of inward
and spiritual grace, given by Christ as sure and certain means by which we receive that grace" (BCP, 857). Bread and wine are not just signs of Christ's Body and Blood respectively, they are the way that the people of God receive Christ's Body. It is all very trippy because in that moment Christ's Body (the Church) is receiving Christ's Body (the Body/Bread and the Blood/Wine). As one of my professors from seminary would say, "RAD!" And, yes, it is rad. Yet, let's keep going.

Most good Protestant Christians will quickly site two Sacraments that Jesus passed on to us in his earthly ministry: Baptism and Communion. Most good Catholics will add on five additional Sacraments: Confirmation, Penance, Anointing of the Sick, Holy Orders (Ordination), and Matrimony. Some Protestants still believe these "extra" five are sacramental, even if they are not strictly seen as Sacraments. This gets me to the kicker... er, since we are in basketball season, the shooter. If these outward and visible signs are signs and means of grace, what is to stop us from thinking about other things in life like this? Jesus never had a cup of java, but isn't sharing coffee and a muffin with a good friend somewhat sacramental? The Jewish people have a tradition of saying every table is an altar. All meals can thus be seen as sacramental. Taking a walk, calling a dying family member, seeing a baby born... the sacramental moments in life are countless. Maybe it even extends to filling out these dumb March Madness brackets.

A lot of people will not be working today. A lot of business analysts will say this is a very bad thing. I tend to see the grace in the lack of productivity. For a few days we all have something in common, we all have something to talk about together. Whether we are picking the teams with the prettiest colors or are trying to use advanced metrics to select the winners we are all glued to our computer screens hoping that our brackets do not bust too much. And yet, it is not really about who wins the office pool to me. I am much more interested in seeing the grace that we receive by having something that brings us all together to see just how much we all have in common with one another. Yet, do not just stop by seeing your brackets as sacramental (brack-ra-mental) push further to find that every ounce of life is dripping with the presence of Our God. March is not just about Madness it's also about Holiness.