21 Dec 2025, Advent4, Isaiah 7: 10-16, Matthew 1 :18-25, “Emmanuel”

Good morning, everyone. May the peace of the Lord be with you all. Today is the fourth Sunday of Advent, and together we light the Candle of Love. Let’s share Christ’s peace with the people around us.

As I begin today’s message, I’d like to share a little story about my family. To be honest, I’m always a bit hesitant to share personal stories in a sermon. Sometimes I wonder, should I just skip it today?

Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to share one this morning, and here is my decision. I will only tell personal stories two more times from now on. Don’t worry, that promise is only for the rest of 2025! After that… we’ll renegotiate.

Back in September 2019, I went on holiday to Korea during that beautiful autumn season. Usually, when our family travels to Korea, it’s for something major: a family funeral, an emergency, something serious. You know how it is. It’s not easy to take the whole family overseas unless something big happens. But that time, it was different. For once, we went simply for a holiday. The whole family gathered, and we had one clear goal: to take a family photo.

My sister… well, to be more precise, Dana and my younger sister… organised everything. They planned the concept, booked the studio, and even decided what we should wear so we could look “coordinated.” We went to a professional photo studio, took the photos, and afterwards shared a wonderful meal together to celebrate our reunion. It was lovely.

A few days later, after we returned to Adelaide, the studio sent us the photos. We were all so impressed. The editing was so good that we said, “Hang on… are we celebrities now?” We were genuinely happy with them.

But then, a few days after that, I received a text from my sister. It was a photo, and a short but very powerful message: “I’m so disappointed in Mum.”

I was completely confused. Disappointed? While looking at such a happy family photo? My mind started doing laps. I wondered, “Wait… what could it be?” For a moment, something flashed through my mind. “Did she find out about the secret pocket money….mum gave me?’ behind her back?” If so… how did she find out?

So, wearing both my minister hat and my brother hat, I replied as pastorally as I could: “What’s going on? Can you tell me a bit more…?”And then she gave me one of those classic “You should already know” responses. She said, “Do I really have to say it? Just look at the photo carefully!”

So I started zooming in on the photo. I looked at our faces, our outfits, the background, and the lighting. Everything looked perfectly fine to me. But then Dana looked at the photo and said, “Ah… now I see why.” I asked her why, and she also said, “You should already know.”

Now, it’s your turn. Have you spotted the reason she was so upset? I’ll give you a little hint. Take a very close look at my mum’s hands.

In the photo, Mum is holding both my hand and my sister’s hand. But if you look closely, and I mean really closely, Mum is gripping my hand much more tightly than she is my sister’s. Meanwhile, with my sister, it looks like she’s just gently resting her hand. My sister spotted that immediately.

I laughed and laughed for a long time. But then, I suddenly stopped. Because something hit me. I wasn’t the one holding my mother’s hand. I was the one being held by her. Gripped.

In that very moment when the photo was taken, I had no idea my mum was holding my hand that tightly. Honestly, I was just hoping the awkward photoshoot would end quickly. I barely even remembered holding her hand. But when I looked at the picture later, it became so clear.  I was being held by her.

Friends, I believe our lives, and this season of Advent, are just like that photo. We often think we are the ones in control. We think we are carrying every burden on our own two feet. We tell ourselves, “I’m the one holding it all together.”

But the Christmas story invites us to zoom in with our spiritual eyes. It reveals a truth we so easily miss in the ordinariness of our daily lives: we are being held….. Gripped by God….

Look at today’s passage. Joseph and Mary. Their situation was nothing like my family portrait. It wasn’t a staged “happy moment” with everyone smiling for the camera. Instead of joy, there was confusion. Instead of peace, there was agony, deep and real.

To understand why, we need to notice how Matthew introduces Joseph. The Bible calls him “a righteous man.” To our ears, that might sound like he was simply a “nice guy.” But in Joseph’s world, “righteous” meant something much heavier. It didn’t mean he was without any mistakes. It meant he genuinely wanted to honour God. He took the law seriously. He lived with integrity, responsibility, and faithfulness. He was the kind of man the community could point to and say, “Joseph… he’s solid.”

Now, try to imagine him. Finding out your fiancée is pregnant before you’ve even lived together. For a man like Joseph, his entire world collapses in a single moment. And remember, this was a tiny village, maybe only a few hundred people. News travelled fast. Rumours travelled faster. Joseph had known Mary since they were children. He may say “This isn’t the Mary I know. This doesn’t make sense.”

He is in agony because two powerful realities are pulling him at the same time. On one hand, his heart is breaking. On the other hand, the voice of the law and the pressure of the community stand there, cold and firm: “Do what is right. Do what is expected. Protect the order. Protect your honour.”

Joseph is caught right there, in that painful place between compassion and law, between love and duty, between what he feels and what he believes he must do.

And then Joseph makes a decision. As far as he can see, it is the most merciful option: to end the engagement quietly.

Right at that moment, God steps into Joseph’s dream: “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife.” In that very moment, everything changes. Completely. God announces, “She will give birth to a son… and you are to name him Emmanuel.”

When Joseph opened his eyes the next morning, his reality had not changed at all. The village was still the village. The rumours were still there. The law, the pressure, the cold stares… everything outside him was the same.

But Joseph… Joseph was a completely different man. Why? Because he realised he was being held by God. Even in his deepest shame, he was gripped by the hand of the Almighty.

You see, we often imagine Emmanuel as God simply being “with” us, God nearby. A presence we can lean on. And that is beautiful, yes. But the Christmas story reveals something even stronger.

Emmanuel is more than God being close. It is God stepping right into the middle of a life that is falling apart and holding His child firmly, faithfully, without letting go.

So let me say this clearly today: Emmanuel is not a magic trick. It is not a slogan. It does not mean our circumstances will suddenly turn around overnight.

Like my mum’s grip that I didn’t even notice in the moment, God holds us with a love that does not loosen.

The world may stay exactly the same, but because we are held by Him, we can stand up as different people. That is the power of Emmanuel.

And that is why, as we journey through December 2025, in the heart of Advent and approaching Christmas, we find ourselves longing for Emmanuel more than ever.

As I mentioned in the newsletter, the reason we desperately need to know that we are being held….is that our hearts are heavy, much like Joseph’s and Mary’s were.

We have all heard the heartbreaking news from Bondi.It has shaken us, reminding us just how fragile life can be.

We say it is time to love, but the streets respond with hate.We say it is time for joy, but the heart responds with tears.We say it is time for light, but the shadows respond with gloom.

We say it is time for light, but the shadows respond with gloom.Is there still a place where the love of God can bloom?

In the wake of such tragedy, questions naturally come flooding in: “Why is the world like this? Where is God in the middle of all this?”

It is found in the mystery of Emmanuel.

Emmanuel tells us that God didn't stay up in the heaven, looking down at our pain. No, He stepped right into the centre of the darkness. He entered our world as a vulnerable baby, into a world just as broken and dangerous as ours.

Today, we light this candle. Not because the world is perfect. Not because all our questions have been answered. We light it because we believe that even in the deepest shadows of Bondi, even in the quiet mess of our own lives, there is a Hand that reaches out.

(Lighting the Candle)

As we light this candle today, we lift up every heart broken and burdened by this tragedy.  We pray that God’s comfort will wrap around those who are suffering and grieving, like a steady embrace. “O Lord, in the midst of this darkness, be their light.Be their Emmanuel—the One who holds them close when they cannot stand.”

People of Christmas, remember this kind of love:“Emmanuel. God is with us. God is holding us.”

Brothers and sisters, finally, let us look at Joseph and Mary one last time. Do we truly believe that God chose these two people at random to carry out his mighty plan of renewing human history?

Did he simply pick a name out of a hat? No. I believe there was a very clear reason, even if it is not one we can fully understand.

One thing is certain. God did not look for people who were perfectly organised or those who had their lives all figured out. Instead, he looked for those who were willing to be held.

He chose Joseph because, even in his deepest agony, he was a man who could let go of his own righteousness and be taken hold of by God’s higher purpose.He chose Mary because she was a woman who could surrender her future into the grip of the Almighty.

This shows us that God’s great story does not begin with our ability. It begins with our availability to be held by him.

This Christmas, if the God of Emmanuel is truly holding us, then we are also called to reach out and hold the hands of others.

Please reach out to the lonely, the grieving, and those who are desperately in need of mercy. Remember, Joseph refused to let go of Mary, and in the same way, God will never, ever let go of us.

My prayer for us this Christmas is that we may all unwrap the greatest gift together—the God who has come close, saying, “I am with you.” And even when we do not realise it, his hand never lets go of us. Let me say again, we are being held by him.

So let us place our lives into his faithful hands, that we may live in the true power of Emmanuel, the God who holds us tight.

There is no need to look elsewhere like my sister. I bless you this Christmas to be held tightly by the true Christmas Story. Amen.

Now may the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Emmanuel who steps into our darkness,

The love of God the Father, whose knuckles turn white as He grips us with eternal faithfulness,

And the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, who opens our eyes to see His hand in our ordinariness,

Be with you now and forevermore, as you go out to hold the hands of others as you have been held. Amen.