Judgment, Joy, and the Hope that Fills Heaven

ESV Readings for the Second Sunday in Advent (LCMS 1-Year Lectionary)

Below are direct links to the ESV text for each appointed reading.

Old Testament

Malachi 4:1–6
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Malachi+4%3A1-6&version=ESV

Epistle

Romans 15:4–13
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+15%3A4-13&version=ESV

Gospel

Luke 21:25–36
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+21%3A25-36&version=ESV

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.

This is everybody’s favorite pre-Christmas Sunday… I know. No, it’s not. We don’t like the readings about judgment. Even as Christians, we don’t like the readings about judgment. We like the happy, clappy, warm, and fuzzy Jesus readings—the readings that remind us of God’s love. But without judgment, there’s no point to God’s love. Without death, there’s no point to the cross. It would simply make God cruel to kill His Son, the second person of the Trinity, if there were no need for it.

And we live in a world that wants to live by the moniker, “Just be a good person.” That’s all it takes. Just be a good person and you get to heaven. It’s in our songs: be good for goodness’ sake.

Today, this Sunday reminds us that the Lord is coming again—and He’s coming again in judgment. He’s coming again because of our sins and the sins of the world. And everybody on the last day will have to stand and give an account before their Maker. And if we want to stand on our good works, if we want to stand on the things within our power, we are lost. We’re hopeless, because we’re not good.

We’re sinners. God tells us that we’re filthy, that our works of righteousness—what we do—are a filthy rag.

This is why Christ came the first time. This is why we celebrate Christmas to begin with. This is why it is joyful to celebrate Christmas—because Christmas takes us to the cross. God saved us from ourselves.

And you might think, “Why does God need to save us from ourselves? We’re smart people.” You can go on the internet—believe this or not—and you can find old news stories from when they passed drunk driving laws, and people complained:

“What do you mean I get off work after eight hours and I can’t drink a beer on my drive home?”

Seat belt laws—

“You’re restricting my freedom!”

Yes. Your freedom not to go through a windshield.

It turns out we aren’t smart people, and we don’t choose good things. Sometimes we have to be compelled to the good. And that is what the Law does. It shows us our sin. It shows us our depravity. It shows us the judgment that hangs above us like Damocles’ sword.

And it can come at any moment.

It’s easy to be placid in the year of our Lord 2025. The Lord has tarried for over two thousand years. So we think we have tomorrow or next year. We think we have time to get right with God.

I’m a Jimmy Buffett fan, and in one of his songs he says, “There’s a fine line between Saturday night and Sunday morning.” We think we have time for that line.

But the truth is, we don’t know the number of our days. We don’t. Death can come upon any of us suddenly and unexpectedly. Babies die in the womb. Middle-aged men have heart attacks. Men looking forward to retirement get told they have terminal cancer.

We do not know the number of our days, and we do not know when Christ shall return. We just know that it’s soon—that the fig trees are in leaf and summer is near. And that might seem like a crazy thing to say in the middle of 37° weather where it’s cold and windy and cloudy and feels a lot colder than 37°.

But Christ shall soon return.

And that is a terrifying thought unless you have the blood of Christ covering all your sins—the blood that has come to the Bride and washed away all her blots and stains and made her perfect for the Bridegroom.

The hope that we have in Jesus Christ is not the hope of “just being good.” It is the trust that we are a new creation—that we are regenerate, that our will has been regenerated—and that we can begin, humbly and meekly and weakly, to choose the good, to do the things God desires.

And this love of God that saved us—this blood of the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world—isn’t just for us. It isn’t just for the people in this room. It is for the whole world. God wants everybody to be saved. We don’t just want heaven to be full—we want heaven to be over-full. We want heaven to be crowded.

Christ is a carpenter, and carpenters build rooms. They build houses. And we want to see how many rooms and houses Jesus can build. We want to put God to the test in that sense. We want to see if we can try to make heaven have “too many” citizens. Of course, the answer is no—but we want to try.

Because the Gospel is for all people—for those we love and those we don’t like, for our friends and for our enemies. Christ has come for the whole world: those who are close and those who are far off—that even our enemies would praise the Lord.

As we prepare for Christmas, there is never an easier time in our culture to witness to the faith and joy that we have. Christmas movies are on TV. Christmas songs are on the radio.

Ever since Thanksgiving—because I like to wait until after Thanksgiving—I’ve been quietly telling people: “Merry Christmas.” When I check out at the store—not a “Well, happy holidays,”—but simply, “Merry Christmas.” And believe it or not, I don’t wear this clerical collar all the time. I don’t sleep in it. I know—it prevents fleas and ticks for 30 days! But even without it, people respond: “Merry Christmas!”—enthusiastically.

Because our faith changes us. And it changes people. It changes the whole world. Salt and light. A city on a hill. Salt changes what it touches. Light gives comfort and hope. A city on a hill is a place of rescue.

It is never easier in our culture to witness to the love of God than it is right now. To point people to the reason for the season—the Christ in Christmas. And again, not in mean ways, but in hopeful and loving ways, because it is our hope and our love as well. As the Lord has loved us, so we love our neighbor.

And so our will begins to do those statutes and decrees. And where we fail, there is still the forgiveness of God. We point people to the God who created them, redeemed them, sanctifies them. We point people to hope.

Because our world—even in its songs—tries to block that out. “He’s making a list, he’s checking it twice…” You’d better be good. You’d better not pout. You’d better not cry. Maybe your home has an elf whose sole job is not just mischief but to send reports back to Santa. There’s no grace and mercy there.

But there is here—where we celebrate the reason for the season, because Christ shall come again. Christ is alive. And we want heaven to be full. We want to put the Lord to the test that He died for the whole world—not just us, but everyone we encounter.

So as you prepare for Christmas, as the God of hope fills you with all joy and peace in believing, may you be that little gospel light all around the neighborhood—giving peace, giving joy, showing the Word of the Lord through your words, your actions, your thoughts—so that all might hope and believe.

In Christ’s name. Amen.