The wilderness is not a mistake but a place God chooses to show up; it strips away pretense and reveals who we are so that peace can meet us right where we are, unfinished and vulnerable. Repentance as John proclaims is not shame but an honest turning toward God—a change of mind and direction that prepares the heart for God's nearness. The call to bear fruit worthy of repentance is an invitation to join God in the work of reorientation and hope in the midst of life's rough places. [18:36]
Matthew 3:1-12 (ESV)
In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, preaching, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." For this is he who was spoken of by the prophet Isaiah when he said, "The voice of one crying in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord; make his paths straight.'" Now John wore a garment of camel's hair and a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then Jerusalem and all Judea and all the region about the Jordan were going out to him, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his baptism, he said to them, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not presume to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father,' for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham. Even now the axe is laid to the root of the trees. Every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. I baptize you with water for repentance, but he who is coming after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire."
Reflection: Where in your life feels like wilderness right now, and what is one small, honest truth you can admit to God this week that would open space for God's peace to meet you there?
Advent remembers that mercy dawns into dark places; God's coming is not postponed until perfection but breaks in now to give light to those sitting in shadow. Expectation in Advent is about tuning eyes and ears to the small, growing light—those moments of clarity that remind you you are not carrying everything alone. This tender mercy calls people to move toward the light and be guided into the way of peace rather than waiting for conditions to be fixed. [20:49]
Luke 1:78-79 (ESV)
Because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the sunrise from on high will visit us to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.
Reflection: What small sign of "dawn" have you noticed recently—one quiet moment, a conversation, or a breath—and how might you intentionally lean into that glimmer this week as evidence of God's mercy?
The table remembers that Christ enters the experience of brokenness and turns it into a means of presence; bread and cup are tangible promises that God is with us even when things feel shattered. Communion is an invitation to taste that God accompanies the very places that feel most broken, not to add shame but to offer grace, mercy, and freedom. Receiving the meal is a way to let the assurance of Emmanuel sink into daily life and to be nourished for the work of loving neighbors. [41:55]
Luke 22:19-20 (ESV)
And he took bread, and when he had given thanks he broke it and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me." And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, "This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood."
Reflection: When you hold or receive bread and cup this week, what broken place in your life would you name to God as you accept Christ's presence there, and what single act could you take to rest in that promise?
John’s voice in the wilderness calls people to prepare by changing how they see themselves and the world; repentance is a turning that clears a path for God’s in-breaking. This preparation is practical and spiritual—an open-handed humility rather than a performative checklist—so that God's presence can be recognized and welcomed. Making room for the Christ who comes means willing vulnerability and a readiness to be surprised by mercy. [19:18]
Isaiah 40:3 (ESV)
A voice cries: "In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD; make straight in the desert a highway for our God."
Reflection: What belief or habit might you gently let go of this Advent so you can better "prepare the way"—not out of duty, but to make space for God to be seen in your ordinary days?
True peace is not manufactured by mastering circumstances; it arrives as God dwells with us in the middle of fear, grief, and uncertainty, guiding our feet into new paths. The promise is that even when life feels like walking through a valley, God's presence accompanies and comforts; surrender is trusting that presence rather than a sign of failure. This Advent invites practicing small acts of surrender—breathing, naming need, asking for help—so the dawning light can gradually widen the field of vision. [23:26]
Psalm 23:4 (ESV)
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Reflection: Identify one specific area where you feel compelled to control the outcome—what would trusting God in that situation look like in practical terms for the next seven days (one tangible step you can take)?
I stepped into Advent with the same longing many of us carry—hoping for an ideal season where everything is lovely, calm, and perfectly curated. But the truth, as our lives quickly demonstrate, is that our humanity keeps getting in the way of perfection. Even the manger wasn’t a glossy postcard; it was real life—splinters and straw, fear and faith, and two under-resourced teenagers holding a fragile future in their arms. That’s not failure; that is the point. Jesus enters the messy middle of our lives, not the tidied edges.
John the Baptist brings this home from the wilderness. He’s wild, unfiltered, and uninterested in smoothing our edges. And yet he announces peace—not by removing difficulty, but by insisting God is near in the middle of it. Peace is not an escape hatch; it’s the presence of God whispering into our chaos, “You don’t carry this alone.” Scripture keeps dragging us into the wilderness because wilderness clarifies. It strips away illusion and reveals that God’s peace doesn’t wait for us to be finished; it meets us in our “unfinishedness.”
John’s call to repent can sound harsh, but its heart is hope. Repentance is not groveling; it is metanoia, a change of mind and a turning toward what is true. Many of us try to secure peace through control—knowledge, status, religious certainty. John warns that peace does not flow from control. Peace is presence. The Pharisees wanted assurance without change; John invites vulnerability, humility, and room for God to do something new.
And Advent teaches us how to see that newness: like dawn. The light does not arrive with a flip of a switch; it grows—first a glimmer, then edges, then depth. We learn to notice peace in breath-sized moments of clarity, in a sense of companionship when we feared abandonment, in the courage to name our wilderness and still keep walking. So we respond: we repent—turning to see differently, surrendering our white-knuckle grip, and making room for the Presence already walking toward us. Emmanuel meets us at the table, in our neighborhoods, and in the gifts we place in the hands of our neighbors. The dawn is breaking. Do you see it?
``And yet nothing about John the Baptist and what he was saying felt peaceful. The dude is loud. He's confrontational. He's bare bones. He's unfiltered. If the Christmas story happens in the quiet, peaceful glow of a manger, John's message is like a bullhorn in the desert. He's weird. He's rough. He is not trying to soothe us. He's not trying to sweetly lure us or attract us to be followers of Jesus Christ with any illusions of comfort. But maybe Advent actually needs both. Maybe peace isn't the absence of discomfort, but the presence of God in the midst of it. [00:20:56] (46 seconds) #PeaceInTheMidst
I wonder if for some of us in the room this morning or those of us attending online, I wonder if parts of our life feel a bit like wilderness right now. Unsettled or unclear. Stretched a little thin. If so, you're in good company. You're standing right where John preached and where Jesus will soon walk. Peace comes to the wilderness places. [00:25:16] (29 seconds) #PeaceToTheWilderness
I'm an AI bot trained specifically on the sermon from Dec 08, 2025. Do you have any questions about it?
Add this chatbot onto your site with the embed code below
<iframe frameborder="0" src="https://pastors.ai/sermonWidget/sermon/wilderness-advent-gods-peace" width="100%" height="100%" style="height:100vh;"></iframe>Copy