Preached on Sunday, December 21, 2025, the Fourth Sunday of Advent, at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral, Little Rock.

“Just when Joseph had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream.” (Matthew 1:20a)

That was a close one, wasn’t it? Joseph was just about to carry out his plan. For you see, “Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child”––not of Joseph, but of the Holy Spirit. Now, Joseph was a righteous man, a good man. He knew that this child wasn’t his. He knew that the situation would “expose [Mary] to public disgrace.” But even if Mary had had an affair, he wasn’t willing to throw her under the bus or to set her up for a life of ridicule. And so, Joseph “planned to dismiss her quietly.” (Matthew 1:18–19). He planned to divorce her in secret, without any mess, or fuss, or attention. To his mind, that was the best thing for him and for her. That was the most faithful move he could make given the cards he had been dealt. That was Joseph’s plan.

“But just when Joseph had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream” (Matthew 1:20a). Just when Joseph started walking down one path, the LORD picked him up and placed him on another. Just when Joseph had a plan, the LORD intervened.

The angel said to Joseph, “‘Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins’…And when Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him” (Matthew 1:20b–21, 24a).

In Advent, we celebrate the fact of the LORD God’s intervention: He intercepts us; He invades us; He interrupts us, just when we had a plan. “Just when Joseph had resolved to do this,” and not a moment sooner or later, God said, “No.” Just when this world had been resolved to do this or that, God said, “No.” And just this is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place: the LORD God intervenes all that we had planned to do—all our plans to save ourselves—and He intervenes by giving us Himself. We think we know what we ought to do to make things better. We think we know what to do with the hand we’ve been dealt. But just when we were resolved to do what we planned to do, God entered in to show us another way.

Karl Barth said that this is what we Christians mean by “grace.” “Grace,” said Barth, “is the inconceivable intervention of God, turning us away from our own ways and plans” and towards those of the LORD [1]. And in Advent, we celebrate that fact.

And even more so, in Advent, we anticipate that fact. Advent is about waiting—and so, we wait. We anticipate. We anticipate that the very same God Who intervened all those years ago continues to intervene in our lives here and now.

After all, just consider all of the different ways God has done so throughout Christian history.

I’m thinking of Augustine of Hippo in the fifth century: Augustine had determined to wait on being baptized. He wanted to be baptized—but not quite yet—not until he had checked off all the sins on his bucket list, much to his mother’s disappointment. But just when Augustine had resolved to do so, God intervened. One day, Augustine heard a child singing, tolle lege—“take up and read.” He found a Bible near him, opened it, and it fell to Paul’s letter to the Romans: “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh.” And that was enough. Augustine’s resistance collapsed and his plans unraveled—all because grace interrupted him. 

I’m thinking about Martin Luther in the sixteenth century: Luther had determined to become a lawyer––something respectable and stable and altogether sensible. But just when Luther had resolved to do so, God intervened. Luther was stuck in a thunderstorm, and he prayed that, if he survived, he would give his life over to God. And that’s just what happened. Luther survived the storm, and he entered monasticism, a first step toward a life of profound impact on Christians all around the world for centuries to come.

I’m thinking about Dietrich Bonhoeffer in the twentieth century: Bonhoeffer had determined to remain in the United States at a safe distance from his native Germany which had fallen to Nazi control. But just when Bonhoeffer had resolved to do so, God intervened. One ordinary day, on a New York City bus, Bonhoeffer experienced an undeniable call from God to return to his homeland. Against all of his friends’ wishes, he returned to Germany to give himself to God by resisting the Nazi regime. And that’s just what happened. Bonhoeffer’s obedience led him to his death, but also into a costly faithfulness that continues to bear witness to Christ in the face of evil.

God intervenes. This is how God works. This is how God has always worked. And in this season of Advent, we anticipate that God will continue to work this way for us right here and right now.

After all, just imagine how many stories of God’s intervention we have right here in this room today.

I’m thinking of my own story of how I ended up here at Trinity—a story I know I’ve shared with many of you. Lillian and I were living in Alexandria, Virginia. I was studying at the Virginia Seminary and Lillian had a great job doing great things at St. Paul’s Church there in Old Town. We had discerned a call to stay there long term, and Bishop Benfield thought that made sense. It was clear to us that Lillian had more work to do at St. Paul’s, and it seemed at least somewhat likely that someone would hire me in the area. Lillian and I had a plan.

About 18 months before I would graduate—a whole lot earlier than any seminarian is looking for a job!—I came home to Little Rock for Diocesan Convention. I was sitting at the Christ Church, Little Rock table (the congregation that sponsored me for ordination), and before the gavel had dropped to call the Convention to order, up walked Amy Dafler Meaux.

I hadn’t met Dean Meaux yet, and she hadn’t met me. So, it really surprised me when the first words out of her mouth were, “How would you like to work at Trinity Cathedral when you graduate?” Now, you’ll remember: I had a plan. In fact, it was a good plan! So, I tried to kindly dismiss the offer. I said, “Oh, I don’t graduate this year, but in a few semesters.” And without missing a beat, Amy said, “Yes, I know that. So I’ll ask again, how would you like to work at Trinity Cathedral when you graduate?” That stopped me in my tracks.

Amy and I had lunch together during the Convention. She told me what she had envisioned. I told her about my own sense of call. She told me that Bishop Benfield had mentioned the idea. He thought I’d be a good fit for this place and that our shared ministry here could flourish.

Lillian was back in Virginia. I told her all about it over the phone later that night, and I was still holding on to the plan we had made. And it was actually Lillian who first said, “I think this is where we’re supposed to go.” And as you know, that’s exactly what happened.

Coming back to Little Rock to serve at Trinity Cathedral may seem to you now like it was the obvious move, and no doubt it was a tremendous honor—but let me tell you, it was not obvious. It was not on my bingo card. And now, looking back over the past couple of years, I can’t imagine Lillian’s and my life unfolding any other way.

This is how God does business: we make a plan, and God intervenes to correct our course. So, here’s the warning: any time we make a plan, we should be ready for God to come in.

This doesn’t mean that our plans are faithless or misguided. Like Joseph, we do the best we can with the circumstances we’re given. But it does mean that, sometimes, it takes nothing less than grace—an undeserved and unexpected intervention—to take us where we’re supposed to go.

So as we enter these final days of Advent, right on the cusp of Christmas, I leave you with this: pray for God to intervene in your life. Pray not merely for comfort or success or clarity, but for interruption—the disruption that turns us from our own resolutions toward God’s Own purpose. Pray that you would remember the words of the angel––”be not afraid!”–– so that you might have the courage to be interrupted and the trust to follow when God shows you another way. And then, don’t be surprised when that’s exactly what He does. Amen.

[1] Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, Volume II: The Doctrine of God, Part 2, ed. Thomas F. Torrance and Geoffrey W. Bromiley, trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley et al. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1957), 99.