Expecting More Than We Imagined, Matthew 11:2-11

Posted on December 15, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on December 14, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.

On this third Sunday of Advent, the lectionary places us squarely in the middle of Matthew’s gospel, far away from shepherds, angel choruses, and that silent Bethlehem night. And frankly, it feels a little jarring. Where are Mary and Joseph? Where’s the manger? Where’s the warm glow that starts moving us toward Christmas? This third Sunday in Advent has us with John the Baptist in prison.

It’s helpful to remember that the first two Sundays of Advent focus on Christ’s coming at Christmas but also his coming at the culmination of time. The last two Sundays turn our attention toward Christ’s first coming—his birth. And here on this Third Sunday of Advent, Joy Sunday, the primary figure who stands before us is John the Baptist, the fiery prophet who prepares the way.

John and Jesus are more than ministry partners; they are actually cousins. They’ve known each other nearly thirty years. And John has been preaching with fiery conviction that the Messiah is on His way, and that when He arrives, judgment will come with Him. As John warned the religious officials earlier in Matthew 3:10:

The ax is already lying at the root of the trees; every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

Not exactly the guy you invite to your Christmas party.

John imagined the Messiah as a strong political and spiritual liberator; the Messiah was to be a commander who would rally Israel back into holy nationhood and cleanse the world of unrighteousness. The Baptist expected separation, division, a great sorting-out of the righteous ones and everyone else. And then Matthew goes radio silence on John until today’s text in Matthew 11. —silence. Listen now for God’s Word:

Matthew 11:2–11

                  2 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples3 and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”4 Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: 5 the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.6 And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

            7 As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? 8 What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. 9 What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10 This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’ 11 Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

Let’s take a moment and look at expectations vs. reality. This passage is soaked through with disappointment, confusion, and unmet expectations. John the Baptist—this mighty prophet who had announced Jesus with such certainty—is now sitting in a prison cell wondering whether he got it wrong. “Are you the one, or do we wait for another?” He may feel just like Clark Griswold did finally arriving at Wally World only to find the gates chained shut; John’s voice has a tinge of disappointment to it.

John expected a cleansing fire. Instead, Jesus is healing the blind and blessing the poor.

John expected judgment. Jesus is offering mercy.

John expected power. Jesus is practicing compassion.

And John’s confusion is honest. He had preached faithfully. He had done everything God asked of him. But now, imprisoned and defeated, he wonders whether Jesus is the Messiah he thought he introduced. Or has he misread the signs? Jesus’ response to John’s disciples is gentle and pastoral; he helps John reframe the signs that have been demonstrated. He tells them, “Go tell John what you hear and see.”

Jesus doesn’t delve into theories or theology. He does not give them a sermon indicating where John was wrong.  Jesus tells them to share their personal experience. And here is the key: Jesus quotes Malachi 3:1 reminding John and his disciples that God’s vision for the Messiah has always been bigger, wider, and more beautiful than John’s expectations.

John expected exclusion; Jesus brought inclusion and expansion.

John expected the separation of sinners; Jesus brought sinners home.

John expected strict adherence to the Law of righteousness; Jesus redefined the Law of righteousness as the expression of love.

But John isn’t the only one with expectations in our Story this morning. Jesus turns to the crowd and asks, almost teasingly,

What did you expect to see out there? A flimsy reed? A man in fine clothes? A celebrity prophet?

Everyone had expectations about who John should be. Everyone had expectations about who and what the Messiah should be and do. And nothing Jesus or John did quite matched the script or Story people expected. Honestly, we’re no different. We often carry unspoken expectations of Jesus, for Jesus, and of God, into our own faith. For example, we have our own ideas and expectations on –

Who God should love and who God should judge.

On exactly how God should answer our prayers.

Why bad things happen to good people.

 What “religious people” should act and be like.

What Jesus should do for me.

On how Jesus would vote.

You see, we bring our own emotional, cultural, political, and spiritual baggage into our relationship with God and we project it onto Jesus. But our expectations, like John’s, are often too small, too narrow, too human.

So, what are your expectations this Christmas? What do you expect of Jesus as we approach the manger?

Do you expect comfort?

Do you expect anything extraordinary at all?

Do you expect the same-old, same-old holiday routine?

Do you expect Jesus to meet you in your real need?

Do you expect healing? Hope? Joy?

Or maybe, have your expectations become too small? This Advent, I invite you to reflect on three questions to help you reframe your Christmas expectations.

First, what are your expectations for Christmas?  If you don’t expect anything different to happen for you, ask yourself why.

Second, do your expectations of Jesus reflect His teachings or your personal preference?  Do they match the values of the Beatitudes or the values of FOX news, nostalgia, or fear?

Finally, ask yourself if your expectations of Jesus are too small. What is the largest, most gracious vision of Christ’s reign you can imagine in our world today? Then reflect how might God be calling you to help make that vision real right now.

Today is Joy Sunday, or Gaudet Sunday. It’s not about a feeling of giddiness and happiness; joy is more about how we see and interact with the world in hope. It’s not so much a feeling as a state of being and outlook. Joy Sunday isn’t joyful because everything goes our way. It’s joyful because God’s vision is bigger than ours. Because Christ’s mercy is wider than our imagination. Because Jesus asks us, he invites us, to expect more of Him than we ever have before.

The great Reformed theologian of the last century, Karl Barth, once prayed:

Lord, may you now let us this year once more approach the light, celebration, and joy of Christmas Day that brings us face to face with the greatest thing there is: your love, with which you so loved the world that you gave your only Son, so that all of us may believe in Him and therefore not be lost, but may have eternal life.[1]

Make it so, dear Lord. Make it so. In the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

© 2025 Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, New York, 12801. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls and may not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.

[1] Fifty Prayers by Karl Barth, https://a.co/cQ9Uiz9.

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Reclaiming Christmas: Moving from the Holidays to the Holy Days, Matthew 3:1–12

Posted on December 8, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on December 7, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.

Matthew 3:1-11

         3.1 In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, 2 “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” 3 This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said, 

“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 

‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’ ” 

4 Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. 5 Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, 6 and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 

7 But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8 Bear fruit worthy of repentance. 9 Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 10 Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 

11 “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12 His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”  (Matthew 3:1–12, NRSV)

I’ve been looking around for examples of Christmas-spirit killers and honestly, it’s like trying to pick a snowflake out of a blizzard. There are plenty to choose from. Years ago, I found an article from Australia that made me chuckle. It said that Santas in Sydney were asked to stop saying “ho, ho, ho” because it might frighten children or be construed as derogatory to women. Apparently several Santa trainees quit over the new directive.[i] Things aren’t the way they used to be, are they? Years ago, when I lived in Tacoma, Washington, I remember the kerfuffle when the Seattle airport removed its Christmas trees from the terminals. Christmas trees, of all things were now suddenly considered offensive. 

Sisters and brothers, our culture has vivisected Christ right out of Christmas, and there’s plenty of blame to go around. On one hand, we’ve become so litigious and cautious that we’re afraid to offend anyone. On the other hand, we the people in the Church have gone along for the ride. We’ve allowed Christmas to be swallowed up by consumerism, stress, and the tyranny of the urgent. So, it’s fair to ask: Is Jesus still the reason for the season…or is Christmas just the reason for the latest season’s sales on Black Friday, Shop Local Saturday, or Cyber Monday?

On this second Sunday of Advent, I want to encourage us to reframe these days we are in the middle of at the moment. I propose we make the shift from observing the holidays and move to reclaim the holy days of Advent and Christmas.  

Let me provide a brief history of Advent. In the fourth century, before Christmas was widely celebrated, the early Church practiced a forty-day period of fasting, prayer, and spiritual examination from early November through Epiphany. It was a “winter Lent,” preparing people for the baptisms that took place on Epiphany, the day the Church remembers Jesus’ baptism.

Two hundred years later, when the Church began celebrating Christ’s birth, those forty days were shortened to four weeks. The season became known as Advent, which literally means “coming toward.” The color was (and still is) purple, a sign of preparation and repentance.

But repentance doesn’t exactly sound like the stuff of office parties and cookie exchanges does it? Who throws a Penance Party? We’d rather rush into the holiday glow than pause for deep soul work. Personally, I think it is high time we reframe our term for the holidays.  

One of my theological mentors, Leonard Sweet, describes it well. Preparing for a holiday is really just preparing for time off; it’s a time of disrupting our routines to do what we want. Holidays tend to compartmentalize our lives and often contribute to their secularization.

But holy days are different. Holy days re-integrate our lives. They remind us who we are and whose we are. Holy days invite us to align our whole selves with the God who comes to us in Jesus Christ.

As Sweet puts it, “The power and grace of a holy day spills out over everything and everyone we encounter.” If we truly prepare for Christ’s birth, the people we surround ourselves with ought to notice something different about us.[ii]

So, my friends, how are your holy day preparations coming along? I know we are only two weeks into Advent but it’s a good to pause and ask ourselves: Am I majoring in the minors and minoring in the majors? In other words, am I focused on what really does not ultimately matter, or, am I preparing the tender soil in my hearts to receive Christ again?

Now enter John the Baptist. This morning’s scripture is meddlesome. In Matthew 3, John the Baptist steps onto the scene with his camel-hair coat and diet of locusts and wild honey. He does not exactly embody cozy, fireside Christmas vibes. Yet, while we tend to rush to John’s fiery call to repentance, we miss his opening words from Isaiah:

            Prepare the way of the Lord.

To a first-century Jewish audience living under Roman military occupation, John’s words are exciting words of liberation, not condemnation. “Prepare the way” meant: God sees our oppression. God is coming. Messiah is drawing near.

Repentance wasn’t heard as punishment; rather, repentance was heard as an invitation. It was as if John were saying, “Stop where you are and turn around! The God who once freed our ancestors is coming to free us again. Let’s get the King’s Highway ready.”

So, beloved: Are you preparing for the holy days or holidays? 

Maybe John’s call to repent means reevaluating how we spend these weeks leading up to Christmas.

Maybe it means rethinking commercialized gift-giving, especially when if it’s driven more by obligation than love.

Maybe it means resisting the frantic pressure to buy what we don’t need and instead invest in ministry that brings healing.

Maybe it means admitting honestly to God: “I’ve turned your holy day into just another holiday. Forgive me.  Help me reclaim its sacredness.”

Years ago, I walked through a high-end mall in Atlanta called Phipps Plaza with the former Moderator of the Church of Scotland, the Very Reverend Dr. Stuart McWilliams. Phipps is a beautiful place; it boasts of rosewood railings, glass everywhere, and real plush leather seating. As we strolled, McWilliams paused, ran his hand along the railing, and said, 

            You know, you Americans build your malls like we in Scotland build our churches.

We have been indicted.

Dr. McWilliams words are an alarm clock to wake up. We have allowed the mall to become our cathedral and consumerism to become our liturgy.

Remember, John’s call to repentance is not meant to shame us; it is meant to bring us back home. It’s a call to return to what matters and that is to reclaim Advent and Christmas as holy days, not just holidays. It’s a call to turn our faces again toward the Child born in Bethlehem—God’s great “I’m here” to a weary world.

So, my beloved, How are your holy day preparations coming along?

Are we smoothing out the path so that Christ may come more fully into our hearts, our homes, and our world?

As we journey through this Advent season, may we move away from the spirit-killing holidays toward the life-giving holy days—where, with wonder and awe, we kneel at the manger and whisper, “Lord, I’m back.” Amen.

© 2025 by Patrick H. Wrisley. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls and may not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission.   All rights reserved.

[i] Santa Claus outraged by ‘ho ho ho’ ban, by Janet Fyfe-Yeomans and Amanda Grant. Article originally from: (http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/).  Accessed 11/15/2007.

[ii] O Holy Nightmare, November 29, 1992. Accessed from HomileticsOnline on December 3, 2007 at http://www.homileticsonline.com/subscriber/btl_display.asp?installment_id=2885 .

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Don’t Be Tempted to Hit the Snooze Button, Matthew 24:36-44

Posted on December 1, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on November 30, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.

Business guru Stephen Covey tells us in his book, Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, to begin with the end in mind. In other words, to best plan where you want to go, picture what it looks like if you were to succeed and plan your next steps accordingly. Well, this is what the first Sunday in Advent is all about.  We are beginning with the end in mind and that means we start by looking at the second advent first. It will serve as a waypoint for us throughout the rest of the year. So, gather around and let me tell you a Christmas story! It’s a Story whereby Jesus calls for us to set the alarm clock and be awake and alert. It’s from Matthew 24:36-44.  Listen carefully!

Matthew 24:36-44

36“But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 37 For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. 38For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, 39and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. 40 Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. 41Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. 42 Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. 43But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into.44Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.[1]

How’s that for a scripture text to get you ready for Christmas! It seems a little odd to begin this season of preparation by looking at what many people call, The Rapture, but this is where we start our journey. Episcopal priest and author, Fleming Rutledge, reminds us that this season of Advent forces us to look at God through the lenses of the past, the present, and the future. She reminds us, that

Advent calls for a life lived on the edge all the time…proclaiming his death to the be the turn of the ages “until he comes again.2 

The first Sunday in Advent begins by looking into the imminent future when Jesus comes again in judgment.

Alas, people in Church today really don’t like to talk about God’s judgment; it sounds so harsh and very un-good-newsy. But beloved, we need to pause and remember that when the season of Advent asks us to remember the coming judgment of God, it’s always on the Sunday when the Church lights the candle of hope! For some reason, we have translated ‘judgment’ to mean ‘condemnation’ thereby losing all concept of hope. Think about it: Who is hopeful for being condemned?

Rutledge writes,

The Christian hope is founded on the promise of God that all things will be made new according to his righteousness. All references to judgment in the Bible should be understood in the context of God’s righteousness – not just his being righteous but his ‘making right’ all that has been wrong.3

Consequently, Advent is the season of the church year we remind ourselves that Immanuel, God-with-us, whom we celebrate on Christmas Day is the one and the same Divine Logos who stands at both the beginning of time as well as its end. Advent is a time for us to honestly remember that all of God’s creation, all our concept of time, is lovingly embraced and encircled by the loving arms of Christ and for that, we are hopeful.

English playwright, critic, and poet, W. H. Auden, refers to Advent, as this time of waiting, The Time Being, when you and I are awaiting the return of the Child Immanuel. He writes,

The Time Being is, in a sense, the most trying time of all.”4 

He’s right; this time of simply being and waiting is indeed very difficult and it takes effort.

This Time Being is what Jesus is speaking of today in Matthew 24. We tend to forget that when Jesus is speaking of the future time of judgment, he uses it as a foil for his disciples to reflect upon their lives in that very moment, in the current Time Being. 

So, Jesus talks about the days of Noah before the great flood when people were eating and drinking, getting married, and living life when, after ignoring Noah’s call to prepare for the coming flood, they were all swept away. Eating, drinking, and getting married are mentioned to remind us that in the midst of our everyday life, at a time least expected, God returns. 

Jesus then goes on to share how men and women will be about their everyday routines of going to work and doing their chores when suddenly, “one will be taken and the other will be left.” Those people who are taken to appear before the judgment seat of Christ are not judged by whether they believed the right things about God with correct doctrine but each person will be measured by the standard of how well he or she loved God and their neighbor as we have loved by God ourselves. It’s the rubric Jesus set in John 15.5 The rapture, as it is popularly called and so grossly misunderstood, is not so much about personal piety as it is about our personal and social ethics; in other words, are we loving others as God is loving us? 

One commentator says,

Believers are judged not so much by how well they are prepared to enter heaven but by how much they have been attending to the concerns of others in the community. Along those lines, discipleship is not an event or a phase but a constant state of being prepared and committed to fellow humans.6 

Once again, we are reminded of Auden’s understanding of our Time Being. How are we living our lives with love and justice in our time of simply being ourselves in our everyday humdrum of eating, drinking, getting married, working the farm, or preparing food for dinner? Sometimes we need a reminder to be fully present and aware of our Time Being.

Years ago, someone gave me a giant Harley Davidson wall clock. Each hour was represented by a picture of a different type of vintage Harley motorcycle. The beauty of this magnificent clock is that a loud revving motorcycle engine would be the chime for each hour! All day long, Harleys were roaring through the entire office area. Personally, I loved it but my other colleagues – well, not so much. I knew it was time to get rid of it when during one emotional pastoral counseling session as this person was pouring their heart out when all of a sudden, the hour ‘chimed’ and the engines revved at the worst possible moment of their story. We both jumped at the intrusive alarm.

            Twice in three verses, Jesus reminds the disciples to keep awake. Stay alert and ready. Set your alarm to get yourself out of bed because the Lord is coming at an hour we do not know or expect. Dale Bruner, a retired professor at Whitworth University says two Protestant Reformers remind Christian disciples to be awake. John Calvin said, “Jesus wished them (the disciples) to be so uncertain of his coming that from day to day they should be intently waiting.” Bruner then cites Martin Luther who quipped that Christians should live as if Jesus died this morning, rose this afternoon, and is coming back home this evening.7

Jesus is asking us to wake up and stay alert. He is asking us to be ready for the time he comes in judgment. He is telling us he is coming again and as such we are to have hope. Donald Rumsfeld, the former Secretary of Defense who had a way with words tried to say the same thing Jesus was saying at an intelligence briefing during the Iraq War. He said,

As we know, there are known knowns. There are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns. That is to say, we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns, the ones we don’t know we don’t know.8

Personally, I think Jesus says it better when he reminds us to stay awake – set our alarm and don’t hit the snooze button…be alert!” 

Beloved, this is a text of great hope. God is coming again and will welcome us home for good. Yes, there will be judgment but not condemnation. There will be a review of how we spent our Time Being awake. Advent is the time we are to reflect upon how we are preparing for the Lord’s return. Are we preparing for our Lord’s return with lives expressing justice and mercy to those we rub shoulders with every single day? In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. So be it.

© 2025 Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, NY 12801. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls and shall not be altered, re-purposed, published, or preached without permission. All rights reserved.

1 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV). New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

2 Fleming Rutledge, Advent. The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2018), 7.

3 Ibid, 23.

4 W.H. Auden, For the Time Being: A Christmas Oratorio. See https://www.thepoetryhour.com/poems/for-the-time-being-a-christmas-oratorio. Accessed 11/23/2022.

5 John 15:12-17: 12 My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. 13 Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. 14 You are my friends if you do what I command.15 I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. 16 You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. 17 This is my command: Love each other. (NIV)

6 Connections: A Lectionary Commentary for Preaching and Worship: Year A, Volume 1, Advent through Epiphany by Joel B. Green, Thomas G. Long, et al.

7 Frederick Dale Bruner, Matthew: A Commentary. The Churchbook, Matthew 13-28, Revised and Expanded (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1990), 523.

8 Feasting on the Gospels–Matthew, Volume 2: A Feasting on the Word Commentary by Cynthia A. Jarvis, E. Elizabeth Johnson https://a.co/inDssr8

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Sacred Pauses in a Noisy Season, Psalm 46

Posted on November 24, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on November 23, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.

This morning, I am building my thoughts around creating sacred pauses in a noisy season. To help me do that, we are going to be looking at scriptural poetry. Poetry is all about rhythm and rhyme, cadences of words, and pauses. Today we are going to look at those pauses and those pauses in poetry have a name: it’s called a caesura.

A caesura is a purposeful metrical break in poetry or music that pauses the sound to draw attention to the piece by way of a pause. Usually noted with two vertical parallel lines drawn at the location of the pause or interruption, a caesura is the natural end to a poetic or metrical phrase, especially when the phrase ends in the middle of a line of poetry. The word “caesura” comes from the Latin caedere which means “to cut”.[1] For example, listen for it in Hamlet’s famous line, “To be || or not to be || that is the question.” 

Hebrew poetry and music also used caesura in their writing lyrical or metrical rhyme. We experience it in this morning’s scripture from Psalm 46. Open your Bible or pew Bible and let me show it to you.

Psalm 46 (NRSV)

1 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,

    though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;

3 though its waters roar and foam,

    though the mountains tremble with its tumult.                        Selah

4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,

    the holy habitation of the Most High.

5 God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved;

    God will help it when the morning dawns.

6 The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter;

    he utters his voice, the earth melts.

7 The Lord of hosts is with us;

    the God of Jacob is our refuge.                                                Selah

8 Come, behold the works of the Lord;

    see what desolations he has brought on the earth.

9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;

    he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear;

    he burns the shields with fire.

10 “Be still, and know that I am God!

    I am exalted among the nations,

    I am exalted in the earth.”

11 The Lord of hosts is with us;

    the God of Jacob is our refuge.                                                Selah

Today is Christ the King Sunday, the final Sunday of the Christian year. It’s the day we arrive at the culmination of the story we’ve been walking through since last Advent.

We began last November preparing our hearts for God’s inbreaking on Christmas. We moved into Epiphany, when people finally began to understand who Jesus really is. Then we made that long Lenten journey with him toward the cross, toward sacrifice, toward the redemption of God’s people.

The darkness of Lent gave way to the brilliant light of Easter. We celebrated the risen Christ, and weeks later we celebrated the Spirit’s fire on Pentecost, the Church’s birthday.

We trudged all summer long in what is called Ordinary Time as we reflected on what it means to live as God’s people in the world. And today we full circle in on this sacred drama with the declaration that this child of Mary, who was crucified, has risen, and ascended to heaven now reigns Sovereign over all creation. Christ holds the whole world in his hands.

And the people say, Selah!

“Selah?” you may be thinking. Hold onto that as we’re coming back to it.

Psalm 46 is a text many of us know even if we aren’t sure where we heard it. Martin Luther used it as the foundation of A Mighty Fortress Is Our God. This psalm contains that beloved line that has comforted countless souls: Be still, and know that I am God.

So, what did this psalm mean for ancient Israel and what does it mean for us today?

The psalm begins with a declaration which is at the very heart of Israel’s faith: God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Everything that follows grows out of this truth.

Verses 2 and 3 paint a picture of unimaginable environmental upheaval like mountains shaking and seas roaring. To ancient ears, this wasn’t just poetic language. Mountains were understood as the pillars that held up the heavens. If the pillars fell, everything fell. The sea symbolized chaos, danger, and the unknown. So, the psalmist is describing the unthinkable when creation itself appears to be becoming undone. It reads almost like the imagery from the book of Revelation.

At the end of verse 3 you’ll see a small, mysterious word: Selah. It appears 71 times in the psalms. We don’t know exactly what it means, but most scholars believe it’s a caesura: An intentional hard stop to take a pause.[2]

It’s a sacred rest. A moment to breathe. A space to let the truth sink in. And what truth is that? That no matter what shakes, rattles and rolls us around from Mother Nature, God is, was, and ever shall be our refuge and strength.

            Stop a moment. Reflect on what verses 1–3 mean to you in your life right now.

1 God is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.2 

2 Therefore I will not fear,[3] though the earth should change,

    though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;

3 though its waters roar and foam,

    though the mountains tremble with its tumult. Selah

Verses 4 and 5 shift the imagery. Instead of roaring seas, we see a gentle river flowing from the city of God; it is a symbol of God’s refreshing, life-giving presence. Even if the world outside Jerusalem trembles, Zion, the people of God, will not be moved because God is in her midst.

Verses 6 and 7 widen the lens: nations in uproar, kingdoms tottering, political powers rising and falling, and Constitutions bring ignored or threatened. Yet over all of it stands this assurance: The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. And again, there is that word: Selah.

Another holy pause. A pause that whispers, “Remember, the nations may rage, but they are not in charge of the world’s destiny. God is.”

Our world is mired in international and political swirliness now. Pause and reflect how verses 4–7 apply to how you’re feeling about all that is in our news cycle.

4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,

    the holy habitation of the Most High.

5 God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved;

    God will help it when the morning dawns.

6 The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter;

    he utters his voice, the earth melts.

7 The Lord of hosts is with me;

    the God of Jacob is my refuge. Selah

The final section of the psalm does two things. First, verses 8 and 9 remind us that God is sovereign over all history — over wars and rulers and the fragile structures we build to protect ourselves. God breaks the bow, shatters the spear, burns the shields. Then comes verse 10, the only line set in quotation marks, as God in Godself speaks directly:

            “Be still, and know that I am God.”

This is more than an invitation to peaceful meditation. In Hebrew, it is a command, a direct imperative. Think of it as a holy cease-and-desist order. “Drop what you’re clinging to. Stop struggling! Lay down your weapons, your fear, your frantic activity. Know who is truly God.”

The words are written for Israel reminding them who holds them through every storm. And they are written for the rulers and nations both to remind them and command them to recognize God’s authority.

Take a breath. Listen to verses 8 through 11 and apply them to where you are this morning.  

8 Come, behold the works of the Lord;

    see what desolations he has brought on the earth.

9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;

    he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear;

    he burns the shields with fire.

10 “Be still, and know that I am God!

    I am exalted among the nations,

    I am exalted in the earth.”

11 The Lord of hosts is with me;

    the God of Jacob is my refuge. Selah

Beloved, as we step into what we call “the holidays,” we are confronted with two very different paths.

The first is the cultural path; it’s the rushed, noisy world of buying and cooking and traveling and stressing, where our worth seems tied to how much we accomplish and consume.

The second is the path of the Church’s holy days which invite us to walk slowly, thoughtfully, prayerfully into Advent. This path asks us to pay attention to little things, to breathe deeply, to watch for God’s presence breaking into our ordinary days.

My prayer for all of us this week is that we carve out Selah moments, those sacred pauses in our days to remember what God has done, what God is doing, and what God promises still to do.

For those for whom the holidays are hard, may your Selah moments hold space for comfort and healing. For those who love this season, may your Selah moments overflow with gratitude. And for all of us, may we find moments to “be still,” to cease our worrying and striving long enough to hear the heartbeat of God. Amen.

© 2025 A sermon preached by Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, NY 12801. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, New York and shall not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.

[1] See https://www.poetryfoundation.org/education/glossary/caesura.

[2] Jason Soroski, What Does Selah Mean in the Bible and Why Is it Important? Updated August 12, 2025. Accessed at https://www.crosswalk.com/faith/bible-study/what-does-selah-mean.html#google_vignette on November 20, 2025.

[3] In this and the following psalm stanzas, I have changed the tense from third person to first person for rhetorical emphasis. 

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Your Story Matters, Luke 21:5-19

Posted on November 17, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on November 23, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.


Luke 21:5–19

5Some people were talking about the Temple, saying how wonderfully it was decorated, with its beautiful stones and dedicated gifts.

“Yes,” said Jesus; 6“but the days will come when everything you see will be torn down. Not one stone will be left standing on another.”

7“Teacher,” they asked him, “when will these things happen? What will be the sign that it’s all about to take place?”

8“Watch out that nobody deceives you,” said Jesus. “Yes: lots of people will come using my name, saying I’m the one!’ and The time has come!’ Don’t go following them. 9When you hear about wars and rebellions, don’t be alarmed. These things have to happen first, but the end won’t come at once.

10“One nation will rise against another,” he went on, “and one kingdom against another. 11There will be huge earthquakes, famines and plagues in various places, terrifying omens, and great signs from heaven.

  12“Before all this happens they will lay hands on you and persecute you. They will hand you over to the synagogues and prisons. They will drag you before kings and governors because of my name. 13That will become an opportunity for you to tell your story. 14So settle it in your hearts not to work out beforehand what tale to tell. 15I’ll give you a mouth and wisdom, which none of your opponents will be able to resist or contradict.

16“You will be betrayed by parents, brothers and sisters, relatives and friends, and they will kill some of you. 17You will be hated by everyone because of my name. 18 But no hair of your head will be lost.19 The way to keep your lives is to be patient.”[1]

Our journey through Luke’s Gospel is drawing to a close. The church year ends next Sunday with Christ the King, and we’ll soon turn to Matthew’s gospel for a new season of readings.

Over the past months, we’ve been on the road with Jesus — starting in the Galilee, following him down along the Jordan River through Jericho, and now into the crowded, electric atmosphere of Jerusalem during Passover. Imagine the sights, sounds and smells: lambs bleating, doves cooing, people shouting, vendors selling. The air itself hums with anticipation; it’s a carnival. Jesus has drawn a crowd, and they are eager to see what he’ll say or do next while still others are maliciously waiting to trap him in his words.

It’s at this moment, near the temple courts where people come to give their offerings, that Jesus notices a widow who gives out of her poverty, and he begins to speak.

Picture yourself there for a moment. You and I are taking in the beauty of the city, soaking everything in; look at all the white school-bus-sized stones of the temple gleaming in the sun, the gold catching the light so brightly that we have to shield our eyes. 

“Jeee-sus,” we sigh, “just look at this place!” He then turns to us with that look; you know the one where he cocks his head sideways and says, “Really?”

We were talking about architecture and aesthetics. Jesus was talking about reality, the hard reality that this temple, this symbol of God’s presence, will one day fall. His words hush the crowd; the noise of the festival fades as the weight of what he says settles in.

Jesus’ message is not simply about stones and walls. It’s a story about the life of living out our faith in the here and now; it’s about what it means to live as his followers when the world we inhabit begins to crumble around us. He makes several predictions.

First, he warns that others will come in his name, claiming authority and truth they do not have. “Keep your eyes on me,” he says. “Don’t be led astray.” We’ve seen how easily people are pulled in by charisma and fear. Both ancient and modern history are filled with false prophets and messiahs.

Next, Jesus tells of wars and uprisings, kingdoms clashing, nations in turmoil.

Third, he speaks of natural disasters like earthquakes, famines, plagues, and dreadful signs in the heavens.

And finally, as if that weren’t enough, he tells his followers that they will face persecution and betrayal even by those closest to them all because they bear his name.

At this point, I want to hit the pause button. You see, typically when we hear words like these from our text this morning our minds often leap to the notion that these words are about somebody else. We imagine some far-off apocalypse, something for “those people” in the future to worry about. But what if Jesus wasn’t just talking about “them”? What if he was talking to you and me today?

Luke records these words not just to describe a future event, but to prepare the Church to live faithfully in the present moment, today in our own personal and national seasons of upheaval, betrayal, and fear.

We don’t have to look far to see what he means. In this week’s news headlines, we read and heard of stories of wars erupting and government leaders abusing their power. We’ve watched the earth tremble, storms rage with horrible flooding, mud slides, and fires burning. There are stories of injustice, famine and genocide. Every generation has its own share of chaos including our own.

The point is this: The presence of disaster does not mean God is absent. The point is that these are the very moments when God’s people are called to bear witness.

Verse 13 says, “That will be an opportunity for you to tell your story.”

Nancy Wakefield of Wabash College writes, 

Testimony is usually reserved for the stories that declare how God brought the faithful out of slavery into freedom, how God made a way when there was no way. But here Jesus tells us that when we experience destruction, betrayal, and loss, we are to see these times as opportunities to testify.[2]

What is your testimony? Your testimony is your personal Story of how God walked with you in the trials of your life and how those experiences shape who you are today. All of us have a testimony. Every one of us knows something about pain. Every one of us has experienced loss, disappointment, or betrayal. And Jesus invites us to bring those wounds not in order to hide them but rather to let them become part of our Christian witness.

When the world seems to come apart, we tell other how Christ held us together.

When others see and experience only despair, we speak of and point to the hope that took root in our own personal suffering and how we managed to get through it.

When death seemed to win, we point to the empty tomb and remind them why that gives you hope and comfort.

So, I ask you:

Where might Jesus be using your story of struggle to speak hope into someone else’s darkness? Where has God taken something broken in your life and brought resurrection from it? What word of witness might you offer to someone who’s searching for meaning right now?

Jesus closes this passage with a promise: “Not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance, literally, your patience will gain your souls.”

Yes, false prophets will arise.

Yes, wars will rage and creation will groan.

Yes, suffering will come.

But the promise of Jesus still stands firm: not a hair of your head, my head, will perish because we base our faith not in mortal life but in eternal life.

Hold steady, beloved. Stand firm in your faith. Tell your story. Share your witness. Because when you do, you don’t just survive the chaotic swirly storms battering us today but you will find the deeper, fuller, more abundant life that only Christ can give. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.


A sermon preached by © 2025 Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, NY 12801. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, New York and shall not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.

[1] N.T. Wright, The New Testament for Everyone. Third Edition (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2023).

[2] Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) by David L. Bartlett, Barbara Brown Taylor, https://a.co/6EcqIy6.

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