Fourth Sunday of Advent – The Sunday of Love

Message: “Love, The Word Becomes Flesh”

Scripture:Isaiah 7:10-16, John 1:14, 3:16-17

Good morning, church.

Let me begin with a very ordinary question. When you are afraid, where do you go? Not just where you go physically, but where your heart goes, where your mind goes, where your thoughts run when the pressure builds and the future feels unclear.

Some of us go to planning, thinking if we plan enough we will feel safe. Some of us go to fixing, thinking if we solve it we will stop shaking. Some of us go to blaming, because naming fault can feel like control. Some of us go to numbing, trying not to feel anything at all. And some of us go to isolation, quietly deciding, I will handle this alone.

Now hear the gentle truth of Advent. God does not wait for you to stop being afraid before God comes near. Advent love is not a mood we manufacture, it is God drawing near. Love is not what we produce, love is what God does.

That is why our theme today is simple and bold.

Love, the Word becomes flesh.

Not an idea, not a slogan, not a spiritual concept, love becomes present, love becomes close enough to touch and to be touched.

Isaiah 7: Love Meets a Shaky Heart

Isaiah chapter 7 does not begin in a cozy place. It begins with fear, political anxiety, and a shaky heart. King Ahaz is under pressure. The threat is real. The future is uncertain. And the text says the heart of the king and the hearts of the people shook like trees shaking in the wind.

That image tells the truth about fear. Fear does not just make us sad, it makes us unstable. It makes us reactive. It makes us desperate for something solid.

Into that shaking, God speaks and says, ask for a sign. That alone is mercy. God is not offended by the shaking. God does not say, come back when you are stronger. God says, bring your fear to me, bring your uncertainty to me, ask.

But Ahaz refuses. He says he will not ask, he will not test the Lord. It sounds spiritual, but sometimes spiritual language can hide a closed heart. Sometimes refusing to ask is not humility, it is avoidance.

If I ask, I might have to listen. If I ask, I might have to obey. If I ask, I have to admit I cannot save myself.

And here is the gospel surprise. God gives a sign anyway. God does not love only the brave. God loves the fearful. God does not love only the steady. God loves the trembling.

And what kind of sign does God give? Not a military plan. Not a political victory. Not a guarantee that nothing hard will happen.

The sign is a child and a name.

Immanuel, God with us.

Do you see the shape of this love? When our hearts shake, we often want love to give us control. God offers love that gives us presence. God offers a sign not to control us, but to steady us.

It is as if God is saying, you want me to hand you the outcome, but I will give you something deeper, I will give you myself. Immanuel.

And here is a line to hold onto today.

God’s love meets us in real life, not after life becomes tidy.

John 1:14: Love Moves In

Isaiah gives us the promise, but John tells us how far God is willing to go to keep that promise. John 1:14 says, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

That word dwelt carries the sense of pitching a tent, moving in, making a home. So Isaiah says God with us, and John says God with us, and God moved in.

God did not send love as a concept. God embodied love as a person.

God’s love is not an idea. It has a face, a voice, and a body.

A face people could look into and see mercy. A voice that could say, do not be afraid, your sins are forgiven, get up and walk, you are not forgotten. A body that gets tired and hungry and misunderstood. Hands that touch people others will not touch. Feet that walk toward the ones everyone else walks past. Eyes that weep. A life that can be poured out.

This is what it means for the Word to become flesh. It means God does not love us from a safe distance. God loves us up close. God loves us with presence. God loves us with skin in the game.

Love comes close enough to be inconvenient. Close enough to be rejected. Close enough to suffer. Close enough to heal. Close enough to be with you not only when you are shining, but when you are shaking.

John 3:16 to 17: Love Comes to Save

Now a question many of us carry is this. If God comes this close, what is God like when God is close?

Is God close to examine me? Is God close to criticize me? Is God close to condemn me?

That is why John 3:16 to 17 is so important.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, and God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but so that the world might be saved through him.

Hear that clearly. God comes close not to shame you, but to save you. God comes close not to expose you for destruction, but to heal you into life. God comes close not as an accuser, but as a rescuer.

Some of us grew up with the sense that God is mostly disappointed, mostly keeping score, mostly ready to point out what is wrong. John says no. God’s movement toward you is love, and God’s intention toward you is salvation.

And salvation is not just about later, someday. In John, salvation is God bringing life where there is death, light where there is darkness, freedom where there is bondage, forgiveness where there is sin, and hope where there is despair.

Salvation is God refusing to leave the world as it is. The incarnation shows the shape of divine love: present, patient, willing to carry what is heavy, willing to enter what is painful, willing to stay when it would be easier to leave.

5. So What: Love Must Become Flesh in Us

And now we come to the honest question. So what? What does this change about Monday morning? What does this change about my family, my anxiety, my relationships, our church?

Here is the so what in one sentence.

If love became flesh in Christ, love must become flesh in us.

Not because we can replace Jesus, we cannot. Not because our love equals God’s love, it does not. But because when the Word makes a home among us, the Word also begins to make a home in us. And then our lives become places where others can experience something of God’s nearness.

So what does love look like when it has a body?

It looks like presence. Some of the holiest love is simply showing up, not fixing, not explaining, not rushing, just showing up.

It looks like patience, because when love becomes flesh, it lives in time. Real love does not hurry people through grief or pressure someone to be okay so we can feel comfortable.

It looks like mercy. John says God did not come to condemn. So when love becomes flesh in us, we become less interested in labeling people and more interested in lifting them.

It looks like making room. John says the Word dwelt among us, the Word made a home among us. So here is a practical Advent question:

Who needs a home in your presence this week?
A space where they can breathe, where they do not have to perform, where they are safe enough to be honest.

One Embodied Practice for This Week

As we move toward Christmas, I want to offer one simple practice for this week.

Choose one embodied act of love. One act that costs you something real: time, attention, inconvenience, humility.

It could be showing up for someone who is hurting with no perfect words, just your presence. It could be making the call you have been putting off, a call that says, I have been thinking about you, I am here.

It could be sitting with someone who is grieving and refusing to rush them. It could be giving someone your full attention without multitasking.

It could be offering practical help: a meal, a ride, a note, groceries, childcare, a hand with a hard task.

It could be speaking life where you usually speak frustration: holding back the sharp comment, offering a gentler word.

One act. Because love becomes flesh one step at a time.

And when we do this, we are not just being nice. We are bearing witness. We are saying to a shaking world, God does not stay distant. We are saying to anxious hearts, God comes near. We are saying to weary souls, God makes a home among us. We are saying to people who feel condemned, God came to save.

Closing Refrain

Let me close with a refrain you can carry into the week, not as a slogan but as a confession.

Love came close.
Love moved in.
Love did not condemn.
Love came to save.

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