A Sermon Delivered on November 23, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.
Luke 21:5–19
5Some people were talking about the Temple, saying how wonderfully it was decorated, with its beautiful stones and dedicated gifts.
“Yes,” said Jesus; 6“but the days will come when everything you see will be torn down. Not one stone will be left standing on another.”
7“Teacher,” they asked him, “when will these things happen? What will be the sign that it’s all about to take place?”
8“Watch out that nobody deceives you,” said Jesus. “Yes: lots of people will come using my name, saying I’m the one!’ and The time has come!’ Don’t go following them. 9When you hear about wars and rebellions, don’t be alarmed. These things have to happen first, but the end won’t come at once.
10“One nation will rise against another,” he went on, “and one kingdom against another. 11There will be huge earthquakes, famines and plagues in various places, terrifying omens, and great signs from heaven.
12“Before all this happens they will lay hands on you and persecute you. They will hand you over to the synagogues and prisons. They will drag you before kings and governors because of my name. 13That will become an opportunity for you to tell your story. 14So settle it in your hearts not to work out beforehand what tale to tell. 15I’ll give you a mouth and wisdom, which none of your opponents will be able to resist or contradict.
16“You will be betrayed by parents, brothers and sisters, relatives and friends, and they will kill some of you. 17You will be hated by everyone because of my name. 18 But no hair of your head will be lost.19 The way to keep your lives is to be patient.”[1]
Our journey through Luke’s Gospel is drawing to a close. The church year ends next Sunday with Christ the King, and we’ll soon turn to Matthew’s gospel for a new season of readings.
Over the past months, we’ve been on the road with Jesus — starting in the Galilee, following him down along the Jordan River through Jericho, and now into the crowded, electric atmosphere of Jerusalem during Passover. Imagine the sights, sounds and smells: lambs bleating, doves cooing, people shouting, vendors selling. The air itself hums with anticipation; it’s a carnival. Jesus has drawn a crowd, and they are eager to see what he’ll say or do next while still others are maliciously waiting to trap him in his words.
It’s at this moment, near the temple courts where people come to give their offerings, that Jesus notices a widow who gives out of her poverty, and he begins to speak.
Picture yourself there for a moment. You and I are taking in the beauty of the city, soaking everything in; look at all the white school-bus-sized stones of the temple gleaming in the sun, the gold catching the light so brightly that we have to shield our eyes.
“Jeee-sus,” we sigh, “just look at this place!” He then turns to us with that look; you know the one where he cocks his head sideways and says, “Really?”
We were talking about architecture and aesthetics. Jesus was talking about reality, the hard reality that this temple, this symbol of God’s presence, will one day fall. His words hush the crowd; the noise of the festival fades as the weight of what he says settles in.
Jesus’ message is not simply about stones and walls. It’s a story about the life of living out our faith in the here and now; it’s about what it means to live as his followers when the world we inhabit begins to crumble around us. He makes several predictions.
First, he warns that others will come in his name, claiming authority and truth they do not have. “Keep your eyes on me,” he says. “Don’t be led astray.” We’ve seen how easily people are pulled in by charisma and fear. Both ancient and modern history are filled with false prophets and messiahs.
Next, Jesus tells of wars and uprisings, kingdoms clashing, nations in turmoil.
Third, he speaks of natural disasters like earthquakes, famines, plagues, and dreadful signs in the heavens.
And finally, as if that weren’t enough, he tells his followers that they will face persecution and betrayal even by those closest to them all because they bear his name.
At this point, I want to hit the pause button. You see, typically when we hear words like these from our text this morning our minds often leap to the notion that these words are about somebody else. We imagine some far-off apocalypse, something for “those people” in the future to worry about. But what if Jesus wasn’t just talking about “them”? What if he was talking to you and me today?
Luke records these words not just to describe a future event, but to prepare the Church to live faithfully in the present moment, today in our own personal and national seasons of upheaval, betrayal, and fear.
We don’t have to look far to see what he means. In this week’s news headlines, we read and heard of stories of wars erupting and government leaders abusing their power. We’ve watched the earth tremble, storms rage with horrible flooding, mud slides, and fires burning. There are stories of injustice, famine and genocide. Every generation has its own share of chaos including our own.
The point is this: The presence of disaster does not mean God is absent. The point is that these are the very moments when God’s people are called to bear witness.
Verse 13 says, “That will be an opportunity for you to tell your story.”
Nancy Wakefield of Wabash College writes,
Testimony is usually reserved for the stories that declare how God brought the faithful out of slavery into freedom, how God made a way when there was no way. But here Jesus tells us that when we experience destruction, betrayal, and loss, we are to see these times as opportunities to testify.[2]
What is your testimony? Your testimony is your personal Story of how God walked with you in the trials of your life and how those experiences shape who you are today. All of us have a testimony. Every one of us knows something about pain. Every one of us has experienced loss, disappointment, or betrayal. And Jesus invites us to bring those wounds not in order to hide them but rather to let them become part of our Christian witness.
When the world seems to come apart, we tell other how Christ held us together.
When others see and experience only despair, we speak of and point to the hope that took root in our own personal suffering and how we managed to get through it.
When death seemed to win, we point to the empty tomb and remind them why that gives you hope and comfort.
So, I ask you:
Where might Jesus be using your story of struggle to speak hope into someone else’s darkness? Where has God taken something broken in your life and brought resurrection from it? What word of witness might you offer to someone who’s searching for meaning right now?
Jesus closes this passage with a promise: “Not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance, literally, your patience will gain your souls.”
Yes, false prophets will arise.
Yes, wars will rage and creation will groan.
Yes, suffering will come.
But the promise of Jesus still stands firm: not a hair of your head, my head, will perish because we base our faith not in mortal life but in eternal life.
Hold steady, beloved. Stand firm in your faith. Tell your story. Share your witness. Because when you do, you don’t just survive the chaotic swirly storms battering us today but you will find the deeper, fuller, more abundant life that only Christ can give. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
A sermon preached by © 2025 Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 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, New York and shall not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.
[1] N.T. Wright, The New Testament for Everyone. Third Edition (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2023).
[2] Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) by David L. Bartlett, Barbara Brown Taylor, https://a.co/6EcqIy6.
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