Dropping Your Nets and Picking Up Your Purpose, Matthew 4:12-25

Posted on January 26, 2026 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on January 25, 2026 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.

Matthew 4:12-25

12 Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. 13 He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, 14 so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: 

15 “Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles—16 the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.” 

17 From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

18 As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. 19 And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” 20 Immediately they left their nets and followed him. 21 As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. 22 Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him. 

23 Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. 24 So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them. 25 And great crowds followed him from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and from beyond the Jordan (Matthew 4:12–25, NRSV)

In other words, Jesus was moving all over the place! He used synagogues for meeting places and taught people the truth of God. God’s kingdom is his theme throughout Matthew’s gospel and that he himself was beginning to inaugurate God’s reign and Kingdom. He also healed people of their diseases and of the bad effects of their lives. Word got around the entire Roman province of Syria. People brought anybody with a mental, emotional, or physical ailments and Jesus unhesitatingly healed them all. More and more people came, as his acclaim was gathering momentum. Besides those from Galilee, crowds came from the “Ten Towns” across the lake, others up from Jerusalem and Judea, still others from across the Jordan.

This morning’s text marks a turning point in Matthew’s gospel. We hear the ominous words: “John had been arrested.” The Good News was already burning holes in the ears of the political and religious establishment. John exits the stage, and the spotlight swings to Jesus.

And what does Jesus do? He immediately gets to work and the very first thing Jesus does is build a team; notice I did not say “a committee” as committees tend to sit around and stare at one another. No, he began building a team which had an executable purpose. So, Jesus goes fishing for fishermen.

Picture it: Jesus is walking along the beach, and he sees Andrew and Simon Peter casting their nets. This is their livelihood, their identity, their family business. Jesus calls out: Follow me, and I’ll make you fish for people! 

And they drop everything. Nets still wet. They just… go.

Further down the beach, James and John are mending nets with their father Zebedee. Once again, Jesus calls and the pattern repeats itself: They abandon the boat, the family business, and their dad. For Jewish young men to leave family behind, well, that was a big deal.  Can you imagine Zebedee sitting there watching his boys walk away? “Wait, what about the nets? WHAT ABOUT ME?”

Here we have the first lesson, Church, about calling ourselves Christian: When we say “yes” to following Jesus, we’re simultaneously saying “no” to our former way of life. The disciples didn’t just add Jesus to their existing schedules. They left livelihood, family, and the safety of predictability. Following Jesus immediately put them in a position of reassessing everything.

Friends, following Jesus is not for the faint of heart.

Matthew has Jesus spelled it out pretty clearly:

Change your life. God’s kingdom is here. I’m going to make a new kind of fisherman out of you.

Everything changes when we say “yes” to the call of God in Christ.

This morning, I want us to focus on the reorienting of our perspective that Jesus requires of us; we are called to make a mental a shift from “What can I get out of following Jesus?” to physical exhibition as to “How can I demonstrate to others God’s presence in and through my life?” I love how Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase, The Message, translates verse 21 and 22 where it reads, 

Come with me. I’ll make a new kind of fisherman out of you. I’ll show you how to catch men and women instead of perch and bass.

Fishing is the biblical image for evangelism. And if you’re like most of us, you weren’t taught evangelism. We’ve watched others do it in ways that make us cringe, so we don’t try. So today, let’s have a fishing lesson. I promise it’s not hard, and nobody’s making you stand on a street corner with a bullhorn and shouting, “Are you saved?”

What we need to know to fish for people is the same as catching actual fish.

First, know what you’re fishing for. What you’re after determines your bait, your equipment, your location. You won’t find mountain trout off the Florida coast. We need to remember that we are to drop the line where the fish are and not where we want them to be. So, for example, all churches want to grow with young families. That’s all well and good but if you live in a community with an average age of 67, you better drop your hook into a different part of the pond.

Second, fishing can be uncomfortable, messy, and it demands patience. Your stomach gets queasy in rough water. You get sunburned. Baiting hooks with squirmy worms isn’t pleasant. Cleaning fish is all guts and smell. In evangelism as you listen to other people’s stories, your heart will break over their pain and loss while at the same time it will leap like a baby deer with the notes of hope and redemption.

Third, you need patience. The fish bite when they’re ready. We don’t make the fish bite. All we can do is drop our line and share what God has done in our lives. The Spirit determines which fish come into the net or takes a bit at the hook. Our job isn’t to catch people and consume them for our purposes like packing church rolls to make a budget. Our job is to winsomely attract people to Jesus. We can’t force anyone to take the bait; we just offer the Good News in a winsome way.

I wonder if this is why the Church struggles with evangelism. We’ve forgotten that we fish to expand God’s kingdom work, not to pad our membership rolls.

So, what can we learn?

We need to decide what kind of fish we’re fishing for. Look around – Who lives in our community? Young families in new developments? Service workers keeping our businesses running? Neighbors struggling with housing? College students at SUNY feeling isolated? Who are we actually fishing for?

For each of us, those we’re fishing for are determined by where we spend our days. Lawyers, your pond is professional associations and community boards. Teachers, it’s parents, and colleagues, and maybe students after school. Retirees, it’s the senior center, book clubs, pickleball leagues, and the waiting rooms where you’ve been spending time.

Here’s the reality: The Church has largely abandoned its fishing responsibility. We’ve grown comfortable sitting all fat and happy on shore while the cultural nets of consumerism, tribalism, and entertainment pull people in different directions.

Friends, Jesus is looking for you and me, indeed First Presbyterian Church, to cast our nets. Every one of us is an angler for Christ’s Kingdom.

But remember this my friends: We don’t convert, coerce, or manipulate. We simply listen and then share when we are asked to share the winsome gospel of what God has done for of us. The good news that Jesus continues to make all things new is because the Spirit is still moving about us; the Kingdom is breaking in right here, right now in the most subtle ways in each of our lives if we but stop and notice.

Here’s my challenge: Ask yourself three questions this week.

One: What’s my fishing pond? Where do I already spend my time?

Two: What bait am I using? When people interact with me, do they experience kindness, grace, hope? Or, do they experience the same anxiety and cynicism they find and experience everywhere else?

Three: Am I patient enough to wait for God to work and courageous enough to drop the line in the pond God is providing me?

Friends, the world is hungry for Good News. People are desperate for genuine community, for meaning deeper than their social media feed, for hope that sustains them through real loss.

As followers of Christ and members of the Church, we already have that. We have that, not because we’re better than anyone else, but because we follow the One who walked on water, calmed storms, upended the empires of religion and government, and even death itself.

So, let’s pick up our rods. Let’s wade into the water. The fish are waiting. Pray with me…

O God, who called fishermen from their nets to become fishers of people, call us again today. Give us courage to leave behind what’s comfortable and familiar. Give us eyes to see the ponds where you’ve already placed us. Give us patience to wait for your Spirit to move. And give us hearts willing to share the Good News of your love with everyone we meet. In the name of the One who still calls us from the shore. Amen.

© 2026 Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, NY 12801.  Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls and may not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.

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Come and See: The Simple Art of Evangelism, John 1:35-42

Posted on January 19, 2026 by patrick h wrisley
I asked AI to give me an image of someone doing evangelism. This is the result and it is a perfect example of how messed up our understanding of evangelism is. After you read the sermon, look at this picture again and you figure out what is wrong with it.

A Sermon Delivered by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley on January 18, 2026.

What is your favorite passage of Scripture?  Many people gravitate toward Psalm 23, where we are reminded that the Lord is our shepherd. Others mention 1 Corinthians 13, where we learn that the greatest of all gifts is love. Still others point to John 3:16, where Jesus tells Nicodemus that God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.

This morning, our text is from the Gospel of John and is one of my favorites; not because it contains the most beautiful poetry or the most profound theology, but because it takes something we perceive as difficult and complicated and reveals it to be wonderfully simple. It takes a task that strikes fear in the hearts of many Christians and shows us it can be as natural as a conversation. If we could truly embrace what this passage teaches, I believe it would transform not just our congregation, but the world around us. Listen to the Word of God as we pick up at the very beginning of Jesus’ work.

John 1:35-42

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, Look, here is the Lamb of God! The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, What are you looking for? They said to him, Rabbi (which translated means Teacher), where are you staying? He said to them, Come and see. They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’sbrother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, We have found the Messiah (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas (which is translated Peter).[1]

Can you figure out yet what makes this passage so significant? I am talking about instructions for growing the church of Jesus Christ. I am talking about evangelism. Today’s text dives into the deep end regarding the dreaded E-word, evangelism. 

Now, I know what you’re thinking. The very word evangelism likely triggers one of several reactions. Perhaps you recoil slightly, thinking of someone who corners strangers and asks, “Are YOU saved?”  with thinly veiled judgment. Or maybe you immediately think evangelism means converting someone to Christianity, and you’re thinking, “I can’t convert anyone!” And you’re absolutely right; you can’t. Only the Spirit of God can do that work.

Still others hear evangelism and think it’s someone else’s job, maybe the pastor’s job, perhaps.  “It’s too hard,” they say.  “It’s best left to the professionals.” The sad reality is that most pastors don t know how to do evangelism either. And when we place the responsibility for church growth solely on the shoulders of pastoral staff, we miss a fundamental truth: sharing the faith is everyone’s calling and everyone’s gift to offer.

We’ve made evangelism far more difficult than it needs to be. It reminds me of an article I once read titled, “How Building IKEA Furniture Nearly Destroyed My Marriage.” The author, Steve Tate, writes about how something that should be straightforward like following simple instructions became unnecessarily complicated and stressful. He joked that IKEA was responsible for 28 percent of all divorces during the previous year. Of course, he made that statistic up, but as he said, “It wouldn’t surprise me if it were true.”[2]

This, my friends, is what the church has done with evangelism. We’ve complicated it. We’ve painted it as something only certain people can do and most of them, in our minds, are zealous religious types we’d rather not emulate or hang out with in the first place. But our text this morning cuts through all that complexity. It shows us what evangelism is, the spirit in which we practice it, and where we begin.

So how does our text define evangelism? We have a simple story: two of John the Baptist’s disciples are standing there when Jesus walks by. John points him out:  Look, here is the Lamb of God! Andrew and another disciple, who many scholars believe was John the apostle, begin following Jesus. Sensing their presence, Jesus stops, turns around, and asks them a penetrating question (a question each of us should wrestle with as well, I might add):  What are you looking for?  

Notice what Jesus didn’t say. He didn’t ask, “If you died today, would you go to heaven or hell?” He didn’t say, “Go away I don’t have time for you.” He didn’t demand, “Are you saved?” Jesus didn’t launch into a sermon about what Andrew needed to believe or how he should live his life.

Instead, Jesus asked a question. Why? Because questions invite relationship. Jesus didn’t declare what Andrew needed to believe; he asked Andrew an honest, open-ended, existential question about his deepest need. “What are you looking for?” It was a question designed to help Andrew articulate his own spiritual hunger and need. Jesus genuinely wanted to know, and in asking, he opened the door to deeper connection.

This is the heart of evangelism: it’s about relationships. It’s not about conversion statistics. It’s not about adding names to our church membership rolls. Evangelism is simply building relationships so that we earn the right to share what Jesus has done for us.

We also learn from this text about the spirit in which evangelism happens. Jesus enters this relationship with Andrew and the other disciple without any agenda other than genuine interest in what they are searching for. He takes them as they are and right where they were and lets the relationship develop naturally. His attitude is humble, simple, and completely non-judgmental.

Jesus doesn’t impose conditions. He doesn’t say, “If you’re going to follow me, you must do this and you must not do that.” He simply opens the door and allows Andrew and his companion to determine where the relationship will go from there. There is no manipulation, no pressure, no hidden agenda just authentic invitation.

This is crucial for us to understand. When we practice evangelism in the spirit of Jesus, we approach people with genuine curiosity and care, not with a predetermined script or an ulterior motive to “save them.” We trust the Holy Spirit to do the work of transformation while we simply offer the gift of authentic relationship.

Finally, our text reminds us where to begin our evangelistic work: with people in our own circle of influence. Look at Andrew. He spends the day with Jesus, and what does he do next? He goes straight to his brother Simon. He goes to someone with whom he already has an established relationship, where a modicum of trust is already present.

Andrew doesn’t tell Simon what he must believe. He doesn’t hand him a tract or deliver a theological lecture. He simply shares his own experience:  We have found the Messiah. Then Andrew does something beautiful and wise: he makes a simple introduction.  “Jesus, this is my brother Simon. Simon, this is the one I told you about.” And then, Andrew steps back and lets things work out on their own. He lets Simon and Jesus develop their own relationship.

Beloved, why have we made evangelism so difficult? Evangelism is simply this: creating relationships with people we already know and share with them what Jesus has done for us. We don’t harp on what Jesus will do for them; that comes across as preachy and turns people off. They must discover their own treasure with Jesus. No, we only share what Jesus has done for us – nothing more. That’s it. Nothing more.

Before we close, I want to give you a practical tool drawn directly from our scripture. Did you notice Andrew’s unusual response to Jesus question? Jesus asks, “What are you looking for?” and Andrew could have asked anything. He could have asked about the meaning of life. He could have asked about heaven or hell. He could have asked about the Messiah’s mission.

But what does Andrew ask?  “Where are you staying?” We might say today, “What hotel are you in?” To us, it might seem like an odd question or even a missed opportunity. But Jesus takes Andrew’s question seriously. He doesn’t mock it or dismiss it. He simply says, “Come and see.”

Here’s what I want you to do this week: Find someone you already have a relationship with a friend, a family member, a colleague, a neighbor. In the natural flow of conversation, simply ask them this question: If you could ask Jesus one question face to face, what would it be? And if that sounds too hard to do, then simply as them, “Do you believe in spiritual things?”[3]

Then, and this is crucial, just be quiet. Don’t rush to fill the silence. Let them answer. And then observe how the Holy Spirit takes the conversation from there. You will discover something profound: people love to talk about spiritual things. They’re hungry for conversations that matter. They’re searching for meaning. And when we create space for those conversations through genuine questions and authentic relationship, we participate in the work of the Epiphany revealing Christ to the world.

This week, you are going to be an evangelist. Not in the scary, complicated way we’ve imagined. But in the way Jesus modeled: through relationship, through genuine curiosity, through the authentic sharing of your own experience. “Come and see.” It’s that simple. Amen.

© 2026 Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, NY 12801.  Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls and may not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.

[1] New Revised Standard Version (NRSV). New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[2] Steve Tate, How Building Ikea Furniture Nearly Destroyed My Marriage, PopSugar, January 26, 2018. Accessed on 1/15/2023 at https://www.popsugar.com/family/Funny-Story-About-Building-Ikea-Furniture-44714768.

[3] Three-quarters of Americans believe in some Higher Power. Reddit user r/Christianity, accessed on January 14, 2026 at https://www.reddit.com/r/Christianity/comments/13k2v22/rising_spiritual_openness_in_america/.

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The Presentation, Matthew 13:1-17

Posted on January 12, 2026 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on January 11, 2026 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.

I grew up in Georgia, where debutante balls were part of the social fabric; these were elaborate galas where young women from prominent families were formally “presented” to society. I never attended one. While my peers were learning ballroom etiquette, I was working at Economy Carwash in Sandy Springs, cleaning mud pits and emptying vacuum canisters. I wasn’t bothered by missing those events; in fact, I found my work oddly fascinating as you’d be surprised what people lose in their cars at the car wash. We found all sorts of things in the vacuum canisters.

The word “debutante” comes from the French débuter. It means “to lead off” or “to begin.” Historically, these public presentations served a practical purpose: daughters of marriageable age from aristocratic families needed to find husbands of appropriate social standing. The entire ritual was about establishing networked connections within a particular circle of society.[1]

I did not run in those circles. As you might imagine, young men who cleaned car wash mud pits didn’t typically receive invitations to such events. I say all this because in a profound sense, today’s Scripture is about a debutante, i.e., in this instance, a divine presentation to the world. Please turn with me to Matthew 3:13-17.

13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” 15 But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”[2]

When we encounter John the Baptist, he’s not baptizing in Jerusalem, the religious center for the Jewish people but near Galilee. The region of the Galilee was crossroads region populated by Jews and Gentiles alike. First-century Galilee was remarkably diverse, with a population of approximately 350,000 that included 100,000 enslaved people. Scholars note that God could hardly have chosen a more multicultural context for Christ’s ministry to begin.[3]

Galilee wasn’t prestigious. Faithful Jews who lived there were viewed with suspicion precisely because they lived among so many ritually unclean Gentiles. Jesus came from this mixed region, with its blend of ethnicities and religious practices.  And it’s here amongst the hoi polloi that Christ’s public ministry begins as opposed to the gleaming temple of Jerusalem.

Imagine the scene: John stands in the water, dripping wet, having captivated the crowd with his prophetic preaching. People recognize him as the reincarnation of Elijah, that great prophet who called Israel back to faithfulness. Into this moment, Jesus arrives and asks to be baptized. John, recognizing his own cousin, protests: “I need to be baptized by you; why do you come to me?” Jesus’ response is profound: 

Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.

Now, what does it mean to “fulfill all righteousness”? It means simply this: the Son of God, the great I Am, chose to become fully human so as to completely identify with us. This echoes the Christmas story, when God became flesh. Jesus didn’t need cleansing from sin; rather, as God incarnate, he was establishing a pattern of adoption for all who would follow him.

Baptism represents adoption and a commissioning into the Christian community. It reenacts the Easter drama where those baptized die to the old life and rise out of the water to new, resurrection life. Through his baptism, Jesus was presented to the world; it was his divine debutante, if you will. But again, notice where it happens: not in society’s elite circles, but at the equivalent of a car wash on Broad and Thomas Streets. God revealed himself not to those the culture deemed worthy, but to ordinary people, the very ones society overlooked.

Before this moment, people believed God revealed himself only through priests and holy men and women. Now God in Christ had his coming-out party among everyday people like you and me. “Fulfilling all righteousness” means God chose to make his grand entrance with average folks of the first century. That Galilee serves as the location underscores that the Gospel is for everyone, Jews and Gentiles alike.

Our key verse is verse 17: 

And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.’

This is like the master of ceremonies at a debutante ball announcing the next young woman who is being introduced. This is the moment of revelation. But here’s my question for us: Are we listening? Are we out in the ballroom paying attention to this divine introduction and announcement, or are we distracted, metaphorically standing in the buffet line when God’s Son is being introduced?

A minister once told her congregation:

This morning I’m going to speak on the relationship between fact and faith. It’s a fact that you’re sitting here. It’s a fact that I’m standing here speaking. But it’s faith that makes me believe you might actually be listening.[4]

It’s a fact that we celebrated Christmas. It’s a fact that hundreds worshiped with us through December. But it takes faith to believe that some word, some carol, some prayer, some Scripture might have caused at least one worshiper to truly awaken and see the Christ child enabling them to have their own epiphany that makes them say, “I hear. I see. I believe.”

This same dynamic occurs at baptism. When we baptize someone in this congregation, it reminds us of that moment when we first stirred to the Holy Spirit’s movement, when we had our own spiritual “aha!” moment and grasped the profound spiritual truth of the children’s song: “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” 

Every time someone comes to this font, we should hold our breath in anticipation, knowing God is at work in ways that will ripple through countless lives. My second-grade Sunday school teacher once told me, years later, “I never thought you’d become a pastor!” Miraculous things can happen when one comes to the font!

You see, it’s a fact that parents and baptismal candidates answer questions about faith. It’s a fact that water is placed upon them, sealing them with the Holy Spirit and adopting them into the covenant community. But it’s faith, my beloved, that makes me believe you will uphold your part of the baptismal vows when you promise to the baptized child or adult, “I will pray for you, teach you, and guide you in the faith.”

Christ’s baptism prefigures our own. Just as he came among ordinary people and was announced as God’s beloved Son, so too are we announced as children of God at baptism. God declares over each baptized person: “This is my child! Love them and bring them to spiritual maturity.”

Yes, God meets us where we are. The question is: Are we paying attention?

Let me ask you: when did you last experience an epiphany? When has God been viscerally real to you? When have you had that “aha!” moment when you knew that you knew that you knew Jesus was real and present? When has the dove of the Spirit alighted on you and quickened your heart?

As you leave today, I invite you to pause at our baptismal font. Place your hand in the water. As you do, pray that God’s grace will rest upon you, that you might regularly receive epiphanies, those revelations of God in the mundane moments of life. As you feel the cool water, remember the promises you’ve made over the years to those baptized at the font. Take a moment to remember your own baptism, your own presentation as God’s beloved child. I tell parents who bring their kids for baptism to celebrate those days every year like a birthday party. Help your kids remember their special day.  To this day, I still send cards and call my adult daughters on their baptism anniversary. I let them know how proud I am of the women they have become. Friends, once you reconnect with that baptismal moment of yours and or that of someone else, you’ll experience Christ’s debutante as though you were there.

You’ll see John walking his cousin into the Jordan. You’ll watch as he places his hand behind Jesus’ head. You’ll see Jesus fall back beneath the surface and rise up dripping. And you’ll hear the voice, that divine announcement of presentation:

“This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

© 2026 by Patrick H. Wrisley. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls and may not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission.   All rights reserved.

[1] “The History of the Debutante Season,” from the San Marino Women’s Club Guild, http://www-rcf.usc.edu/~clingerm/history.html.  Accessed on 5 January 2005 

[2] The Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1989), Mt 3:13–17.

[3] Leonard I. Sweet in Homiletics, Listening for God, Matthew 3,13-17, 1/10/1993.  Accessed from www.homileticsonline.com on 12/28/2004.

[4] This story was shared with a colleague years ago.

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Pondering, Luke 2:8-10

Posted on December 24, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on Christmas Eve 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.

Luke 2:8–20

8 In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 

14 “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16 So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17 When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them. (NRSV) 

The older I become, the more I realize that Christmas is a bit like a fine wine or perhaps a well‑aged bourbon. The longer it rests, the richer and smoother it becomes. With time, flavors emerge that we would not have noticed when we were younger. So it is with Christmas. Somehow, Christmas ripens and deepens with age.

That truth came home to me again this year as I spent time unpacking my Christmas ornaments and decorations. God used those simple, familiar objects as gentle messengers, almost like angels massaging my memory and inviting me to ponder Christmases past. Each ornament became a small doorway into gratitude, reminding me how those holy moments have shaped me in ways I never could have imagined at the time.

Anyone who has ever decorated a Christmas tree knows this ritual well. Each ornament is carefully unwrapped from its tissue paper covering, held for a moment, and reflected upon before being placed on the branches. On my tree there are several tatted snowflakes Ms. Nell Lewis made for my family back in 1988 at my first church. The snowflakes look like ninja stars, and every year I flip them through the air at the tree to see where they stick to the branches. There is the well‑worn paper‑plate angel my youngest daughter, Kate, made in kindergarten, which always finds its rightful place at the top of the tree. Kelly had her favorite too: a small Swarovski crystal shaped like a Hershey’s Kiss that was a gift from the preschool class she taught at Decatur Presbyterian Church. My own favorites were the playdough angels I made and painted with each of my daughters when they were little and have been reglued many times over the last thirty years.   

What many might call trinkets or tchotchkes, families know as treasures. Decorating the tree becomes an act of remembering: remembering the year an ornament was made, remembering the person who gave it, remembering the season of your life it represents. As we hold these treasures, we can’t help but look back upon all our relationships, health scares, job changes, moves, joys, and losses; we reflect on how at each turn, whether we labeled it good or difficult at the time, these events helped shape who we have become today. I cannot hold the ornaments my daughters made decades ago without pondering all that has unfolded over the years to make them the women they are today.

Beloved, this kind of pondering is exactly what we witness in our Scripture tonight. Earlier in Luke’s Gospel in chapter one, an angel appears to Mary and tells her she will bear a son who will reign on the throne of David. Now, in our story, a group of rough‑around‑the‑edges shepherds arrive from the fields, drawn by angelic song, eager to gaze upon the face of this child promised to be Messiah and Lord. As they tell their story of sudden fear at the sight of the angel, the glory they experienced and the good news that was told them, Mary quietly listens. And Luke tells us that she treasures these words and ponders them in her heart.

Mary is gathering these moments the way we gather ornaments; she holds each one as precious, each one adding depth to her understanding of who this child is. Angels. Shepherds. Strangers arriving in awe. Her understanding of God’s purpose is not fixed or finished; it is growing. It’s evolving. Over the years she will watch Jesus grow up in stature and wisdom. She will hear him teach and watch him heal and love the most vulnerable and most despised of society. And through it all, Mary ponders these things in her heart.

Luke is careful with his language here. Earlier, when Mary first hears the angel’s announcement in chapter one, Luke uses a word for pondering that suggests Mary was having this internal conversation within herself turning things over quietly in the mind. But in tonight’s passage, Luke intentionally chooses a different ancient word for the word “to ponder”. This word describes pondering as active and even strenuous endeavor. It literally means to wrestle with someone, to hold competing truths together and struggle toward understanding. Mary is no longer simply reflecting; she is grappling, wrestling with what God is revealing to her through these unfolding events.

The more Mary treasures these experiences, the deeper her wrestling becomes. God’s revelation is not static; God’s revelation is dynamic and evolves as it unfolds. And as we see, so does Mary’s faith.

Beloved, Christmas Eve is a kind of holy reset for the soul. Tonight, the world is invited to slow down, to treasure, and to ponder and truly wrestle with what God is doing through this child Jesus both in our lives and in the life of this church. Like ornaments whose meaning deepens as the years pass, our understanding of Jesus also changes, matures, and grows richer with time. Children experience Christmas differently than college students returning home on break. And those whose lives have been seasoned by decades of joy and sorrow ponder this night yet differently still. Each of us treasures Christ from exactly where we are right at this moment.

So, let me ask you: What do you treasure about Christmas? The decorations? The food? The gatherings and gifts? Or do you find yourself drifting back to an earlier time when you were wrapped in simpler wonder when the miracle of this night felt closer to the surface and real?

Has the weariness or mundanity of life dulled your sense of holy awe, turning joyful gasps into tired sighs? Or, are you still able to hear the quiet coo of the child in the manger calling you back once more to kneel, to listen, to ponder?

Tonight, God invites us to do more than remember Christmas. God invites us to wrestle with it. God invites us to carefully unwrap the gift being offered to each of us tonight. We are beckoned to treasure what has always been as well as to allow new richer meaning to be born in us again. The same power and life that entered the world in that cold manger centuries ago longs to be born in you this very night. Beloved, like Mary, let us treasure these things, ponder upon them wrestling in our hearts about this news of great joy. So let it be.

© 2025 Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, New York, 12801. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls and may not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.

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When Faith Disrupts Our Plans, Matthew 1:18025

Posted on December 23, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on December 21, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.


All the little open windows on our Advent calendars are beginning to show that there are not many days left before Christmas. In just a few days, we will gather around trees, tables, and televisions. We will travel snow-covered roads, scrape windshields in the dark, and hope the weather cooperates just enough to get us where we need to go. Here in Upstate New York, Advent often arrives bundled in gray skies, early sunsets, and the steady patience required to wait out winter.

This morning, on the last Sunday of Advent, all four candles on the wreath are lit. Only the Christ Candle remains, waiting quietly in the center. The church seems to hold its breath; we are almost there.

As we turn to Matthew’s Gospel, it’s worth noticing how differently each of the four Gospels tells the story of Jesus’ birth. Mark doesn’t tell a birth story at all; he begins with an adult Jesus proclaiming the Good News in the wilderness. John’s Gospel reaches all the way back before time itself, before creation, before anything that could possibly resemble a manger. Luke gives us angels, shepherds, Mary, songs, and wonder. Matthew, however, gives us Joseph.

Matthew’s Christmas story is grounded, practical, and is quietly unsettling. It unfolds through the life of a working-class man whose plans are suddenly and irrevocably disrupted. Matthew tells us the story not from the perspective of angels or kings, but from the view of someone trying to live a decent, faithful life and who suddenly discovers that faithful obedience is going to cost him far more than he expected.

Hear now the Word of the Lord from Matthew 1:18–25.

Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.

But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, 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.”

All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.”

When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.

Matthew’s account feels believable precisely because it is so understated. There is no burst of heavenly light, no chorus of angels. God comes to Joseph quietly, in a dream. And like so many dreams, it leaves Joseph with a decision to make when he wakes up.

Joseph’s life, up until this moment, had been moving along just fine. He had done everything right. He had secured a future, paid the dowry, followed the law, and made plans. He was doing exactly what responsible people are supposed to do. And then life happened, or as John Lennon famously said, “Life is what happens to you while you’re making other plans.”[1]

Mary is pregnant. Not his child. Not his plan.

In Joseph’s world, this was not just a personal crisis; it was a public one. His reputation, his livelihood, Mary’s safety, all of it hung in the balance. Joseph holds the power to quietly walk away from it all, or he can expose Mary and protect himself. The Law allows it and the society kind of expects it.

But Matthew tells us Joseph was righteous. And righteousness, it turns out, is not about rigid rule-following, but about mercy. Joseph chooses compassion before he fully understands the full story of what’s the come.

Then comes the dream.

We don’t know how Joseph slept that night. We don’t know how convincing the dream felt. What we do know is this: when Joseph wakes up, he believes that God has spoken, and he acts obediently.

Joseph could have said no. He could have dismissed the dream as indigestion or anxiety. He could have chosen safety over faith. Instead, Joseph steps into uncertainty, trusting that God is already at work in the middle of the mess.

Faith, Matthew tells us, is not certainty. Faith is obedience in the absence of guarantees. Faith is obedience in the absence of guarantees.

That may sound familiar to us. Many of us know what it is like to have our plans interrupted whether by illness, job loss, family strain, grief, or change we did not choose. Living in this part of the world, we understand that not everything unfolds according to schedule. Snowstorms reroute us. Power outages slow us down. Long winters teach us patience we never asked for. Joseph’s story reminds us that God often does God’s deepest work precisely when our plans all fall apart.

The angel tells Joseph to name the child Jesus, “for he will save his people from their sins.” We often hear that phrase in a narrow sense of just getting into heaven; salvation is so much richer and larger.  Salvation in Scripture means healing, restoration, rescue, and wholeness. Jesus is born not just to forgive, but to make things right and to bring light into darkness, warmth into cold places, hope into weary lives.

And then Matthew gives us the name Emmanuel: God with us. It’s not God above us. It’s not God far away. Rather, it’s God right here with us, right in the midst of all our uncertainty, in our disruption, in our risk, and in our faith.

Joseph does not understand everything. He does not get answers to all his questions. But he does step out and do the next faithful, obedient thing. And that is how God’s salvation enters the world.

            Beloved, Advent reminds us that God still works this way. God’s work often passes through ordinary people making faithful choices in complicated situations. God’s purposes still move forward through quiet courage, through listening, through obedience when it would be easier to walk away.

As we stand on the threshold of Christmas, may we, like Joseph, remain open to God’s voice. May we trust that even when our plans are disrupted, Emmanuel is still with us.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

© 2025 Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, New York, 12801. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls and may not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.

[1] See https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/john_lennon_137162. 

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