By the Rev. Matthew D. O’Rear
Revised Common Lectionary reflection for the Second Sunday of Advent, Year A
December 7, 2025
Key verse: “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” –Matthew 3:3 (NRSV)
There is a lot of wilderness in the world right now.
Not just the beautiful kind with trees and sky, but the inner kind.
The news that never lets up.
The low ache of wars that do not end.
The sense that public life keeps turning meaner and more fragile.
The feeling that we are more connected than ever, and still somehow more alone.
Into all of that, Advent keeps saying the same strange thing: God is drawing near.
And this week, that promise does not arrive as a lullaby in Bethlehem. It comes as a shout from the desert.
John the Baptist does not fit well on a Christmas card. He is rough around the edges, living on the margins, telling hard truth to people who would rather hear something softer. Yet the church, in its wisdom, puts his voice right in the middle of our December, as if to say, “If you want to understand the coming of Christ, you have to walk through the wilderness first.”
A shoot from the stump
Isaiah speaks into his own wilderness. The royal line of David looks like a dead stump, cut down by violence and failure. The people are caught between empire and fear. It is into that scene that the prophet dares to say: A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots (Isaiah 11:1).
Life from what looks dead. Green from gray wood. That is Advent logic.
Isaiah’s vision is not sentimental. It is fiercely concrete. The poor finally receive justice.
The meek finally get a fair hearing.
Predators and prey learn how to live without devouring each other.
The earth is full of the knowledge of the Lord like water covering the sea.
It is breathtaking, and also, if we are honest, it feels far away.
Which is why Paul, generations later, writes to the church in Rome and says, in effect, “Keep going.” He reminds them that the Scriptures were written to give endurance and encouragement, so that people divided by culture and background could discover a shared hope in Christ and learn to welcome one another.
There is no pretending that the wolf and lamb are already curled up together.
But there is a clear call: live now in a way that lines up with the future God has promised.
A voice in our wilderness
Enter John.
Matthew tells us that he appears in the wilderness of Judea, echoing Isaiah:
“Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.”
John’s job is not to make people feel bad for the sake of it. His call to repentance is really an invitation to alignment. Turn away from what distorts you. Turn toward the One who is coming. Clear away what keeps you numb, angry, or afraid, so there is actually room for good news to land.
Repentance is not God saying, “I will love you when you improve.”
Repentance is God saying, “I already love you. Please stop clinging to what is killing you.”
John’s words cut across our own season of distraction.
We are already halfway through our to do lists.
Packages are in transit.
Calendars are full.
Everyone is trying hard to manufacture cheer.
Then the wild prophet steps into the aisle of December and says, “Prepare the way.”
Not in your yard. In your life.
Ax at the root, Spirit at the river
John’s images are sharp. Trees that bear no good fruit get cut down. The ax is already at the root. Chaff is burned with unquenchable fire. These are not cozy pictures. They are meant to wake us up.
In a world like ours, where violence is justified in God’s name and power is hoarded while children starve, it would be troubling if God did not speak in the language of judgment. John’s fire is not about petty punishment. It is about God’s refusal to bless what destroys the vulnerable.
At the same time, John is clear that he is not the center of the story.
“I baptize you with water,” he says, “but one who is more powerful than I is coming.”
That One will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. (Ma
Judgment and mercy meet in that promise.
The Spirit burns away what cannot stay.
The Spirit also waters what needs to grow.
The same God who lays the ax to rotten roots is the God who coaxes green shoots out of dead stumps.
What repentance looks like in Advent
So what does all this sound like in a weary December, in a year that has already taken so much?
Repentance might look like telling the truth about how tired you are, instead of pretending you can do it all. It might look like turning down the volume of outrage and choosing to listen before you post or speak. It might look like resisting the pull to treat enemies as less than human, even when the culture rewards contempt. It might look like asking where your money, time, and attention are actually flowing, and whether they resemble the river of life Jesus promises.
Advent repentance is not one more project on the list. It is a reorientation. Away from fear that clenches and hoards. Toward trust that loosens the grip and makes space for generosity. Away from despair that shrugs at injustice. Toward courage that acts, even in small ways, for the sake of the least.
We prepare the way of the Lord not by fixing the world on our own, but by letting God rearrange our priorities so that the wolf and lamb vision shapes how we vote, spend, show up, and pray.
For worship
In this second week of Advent, you might frame worship as a walk from comfort into wilderness and back into hope.
- Consider beginning with a gentle acknowledgement of global and local weariness. Naming wars, climate anxiety, political fracture, and personal grief can help people hear John’s voice as honest rather than harsh.
- When reading Isaiah 11, invite the assembly to imagine specific “wolves and lambs” in our world today: communities at odds, neighborhoods divided by race or income, nations locked in cycles of retaliation.
- For the gospel, you might allow a brief silence after John’s warning about bearing fruit. Let the room sit with the question, “What kind of fruit are we bearing as a community?”
In preaching, hold together two truths:
- God’s judgment is good news for those who suffer under systems of greed and violence.
- God’s mercy is good news for all of us who get tangled in those systems more than we would like to admit.
A simple ritual response could invite people to write one word on a small card: something they sense God calling them to release, or to turn toward, this Advent. Those cards could be brought forward during the offering as a sign of shared repentance and hope.
Worship with youth
With youth, this text is a chance to talk honestly about both anger and hope.
- Ask, “What feels most wrong in the world to you right now?” Write their answers on a board or large paper.
- Read Isaiah 11:1–9 together. Invite them to underline or highlight a line that feels like good news in light of what they just named.
- Then read Matthew 3:1–3 and 7–10. Ask, “If John the Baptist showed up in our city today, where do you think he would stand? What would he say? Who would be listening?”
Help them see repentance not as shame, but as a change of direction. Ask, “What is one small way we, as a youth group, could ‘prepare the way’ in our school or neighborhood?”
Let them brainstorm concrete actions, such as checking on isolated classmates, starting a simple justice project, or choosing kinder language in online spaces. Close by praying that the Spirit would guide their anger toward creative, loving action rather than despair.
Final thoughts
Advent 2 does not hand us a gentle hillside with sheep. It gives us a desert preacher with a voice like wind against stone, and scriptures that refuse to let us settle for the way things are.
John stands in the wilderness because that is where the truth often starts. Isaiah speaks of a world no one has fully seen, where predators forget how to bite and the vulnerable learn how to rest. Paul pleads with the church to welcome one another the way Christ has welcomed us, not as a suggestion, but as a way of life.
Together they tell us this: the world will not heal by accident. The valleys must be lifted. The crooked places must be made straight. Something in us must turn.
But here is the good news buried like gold in all this hard language. Repentance is not a weight. It is a clearing. It is God making space in us for what is coming. It is the Spirit loosening our grip on fear so courage can grow. It is Christ calling us out into the open, where the new creation has already begun to breathe.
We are not asked to save the world. We are asked to prepare room for the One who is saving it. To bear fruit that looks like mercy. To choose welcome instead of contempt. To practice peace in a world that keeps forgetting how.
Because the promise of Advent is not wishful thinking. A shoot is growing from a stump that looked finished. A child is coming who will judge with righteousness. The Spirit is moving toward us with fire that purifies and water that renews.
And in this season, on this Sunday, we are invited to step into that promise. To walk in the light Isaiah saw. To welcome as boldly as Paul commands. To prepare the way where we stand, so that when Christ comes near, he finds hearts ready for the dawn.
Previous reflections for Advent 2A:
2022 – Stewards of Advent Hope
2019 – blessing & hope
2016 – An Advent welcome
2013 – Fling wide the doors, church!
2010 – Here, there and everywhere
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