Hello my friends.
This is Mark Gludman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in docks,
Welcoming you to Day 6 of Advent 2025,
Waiting with Matthew.
Today our focus verse will come from Matthew Chapter 2,
Verses 1 and 2.
Wise men from the East came to Jerusalem asking,
Where is the child who has been born King of the Jews?
And so as we ready ourselves for our time today,
I invite you to sit,
Be still,
To breathe deeply in and out,
To let your heart and your body come to rest in this moment,
In this time,
As we ask God to open our ears,
Our minds and our hearts.
Now over the last five days we've walked through the very first chapter of Matthew's Gospel and now we step into the unfolding mystery of Matthew Chapter 2.
And suddenly the scene shifts.
We're no longer in Nazareth or Bethlehem.
We're somewhere far beyond Israel's borders,
Among a people who don't look,
Speak,
Worship,
Or even live like the descendants of Abraham.
From the margins of the map,
A new set of characters enters the Gospel story.
Wise men from the East.
Magi.
Astrologers.
Seekers of signs.
People who watch the sky because they believe the heavens are speaking.
And they've travelled a long way.
Not out of fear,
Not out of duty,
But out of expectancy.
Where is the child,
They ask.
Not is there a child,
Not do you think the rumours are true,
But where?
Where is the child?
There's a quiet faith that's already pulsing through their question.
A certainty that someone has come.
A conviction that the light they saw in the heavens points to a deeper light now present on earth.
These travellers,
Foreigners,
Outsiders,
Become some of the first witnesses to the incarnation.
Did you catch that?
Outsiders,
Foreigners,
Will be some of the first witnesses.
And their journey teaches us something crucial about Advent.
And that is the wise wait with expectancy.
Now Matthew tells us that the Magi saw his star at its rising.
The heavens have opened a window.
God has spoken in a language that these men could understand.
A star.
A sign.
A shimmer.
A shimmer of divine intentions stretched across the night sky.
And while the Magi respond with movement,
With seeking,
With hope,
The converse is that Herod responds with fear.
And Jerusalem responds with agitation.
Expectancy always unsettles the comfortable because expectancy says God is up to something again.
God is not finished yet.
God may arrive outside the boundaries we prefer.
The Magi stand in stark contrast to Herod.
Herod clings to control.
The Magi surrender to curiosity.
Herod hoards power.
The Magi follow light.
Herod is threatened by another king.
The Magi,
Well,
They're searching for one.
Expectancy is not naive,
But it is courageous.
It breaks us out of the illusion that we already know how God must act and opens us to the wild possibility that God may speak a new word into the world.
Now,
Tradition often imagines the Magi arriving a few days after Jesus' birth.
But Matthew's timeline suggests a different,
Much longer arc.
The star appeared,
They studied it,
Discerned its meaning,
Packed for a journey,
And then travelled months,
Even more,
Across deserts and across mountains.
Their waiting was active.
Their expectancy was persistent.
They kept going,
Even when the star was not always visible.
They kept moving,
Even when they didn't yet know where the path would end.
And this,
This is the heart of Advent waiting,
To set our life in motion toward God,
Even before we see clearly.
The Magi remind us that expectancy is not just an emotion.
It's a posture,
A willingness to begin,
A willingness to take a step,
A willingness to follow the faint light we are given,
Trusting that more light will come as we go.
Sometimes,
The smallest sliver of guidance,
The faintest glimmer of God's presence,
Is enough to start us on the journey of transformation.
And perhaps it all came down to the fact that they asked the right question.
Where is the child?
This question reveals the posture of a heart that is awake.
It's the question of a soul that refuses to settle for second-hand information.
The Magi were not content to know about the light.
They wanted to see the one the light pointed towards.
They didn't travel to understand a prophecy.
They traveled to meet a person.
Expectancy always points us towards encounter,
Towards presence,
Towards the living God made small and vulnerable.
What questions are you carrying into this Advent?
What question has pulled you across deserts of your own life?
What question continues to whisper to you in the night?
God often meets us precisely at the point of our honest questions,
Not when we have everything figured out,
But when we have enough hope to keep searching.
And one of the great surprises of this text is who the first seekers of Jesus are.
They're not priests.
They're not scribes.
They're not those steeped in scripture.
They're foreigners.
They're strangers,
People outside the faith community,
People following a star rather than the Torah.
Matthew's telling us something profound.
Listen carefully and really open your heart to this.
God draws peoples in ways that they can recognize.
God uses the language of each person's heart.
A star for astronomers,
Shepherds for shepherds,
A dream for Joseph,
A scripture for the scribes.
God doesn't limit themselves to one pathway and God is not bound by the boundaries that we draw.
There is room in God's story for every seeker,
Every question,
Every journey,
Every person who finds themselves staring at a night sky,
Sensing that something sacred is calling them onward.
Advent reminds us to stay attentive to the unexpected seekers around us and within us.
Now to travel is to risk the magi risk misunderstanding,
Exhaustion,
Bandits,
Weather,
And the possibility that the star might lead them nowhere.
But they go anyway.
Expectancy is always vulnerable.
It demands trust.
It demands movement.
It demands the humility to say,
I don't have all the answers,
But I trust the one who's drawing me.
And perhaps this is what makes the magi wise.
Not their knowledge,
Not their learning,
But their willingness to follow the faint whisper of God without seeing the full picture.
Wisdom is born not from certainty,
But from openness,
From a heart willing to be surprised by grace.
Where is the child?
The magi's question,
Friends,
Is our question.
Where is the presence of the Christ today?
Where is the light rising in our world,
Even if quietly?
Where is God drawing us to kneel to offer our gifts,
To recognize holiness?
And what journey is the spirit inviting you to begin?
Not later,
Not when you feel ready,
But now just with the light you do have.
Advent is a season to listen to the faint magnetism of grace,
The quiet tug toward prayer,
The gentle nudge toward generosity,
The unexplained hunger for God.
These are stars on the horizon of your life.
Follow them.
Follow them.
And as we let what the spirit has placed on our hearts,
Sit and have a chance to borrow in so it can do its work in our lives.
I invite you to pray with me.
God of the rising light,
You call us to the way and in the way that you call to the magi through signs in our sky,
Through whispers in our hearts,
Through the quiet pull towards something more.
Teach us to wait with expectancy,
To move when you illuminate the path and to trust you when the night grows dim.
Make us wise in the way the magi were wise,
Open,
Searching,
Willing to be led.
Give us courage to follow the faint light of your presence,
Even when we don't yet know where the journey will end.
May our waiting become a pilgrimage.
May our longing become prayer.
May our questions become doorways to encounter.
And when we find you in unexpected places,
In surprising faces,
In small acts of love,
May we kneel in wonder before the one who is both king and child.
Amen.
And so,
My friend,
As you rise from this time together to go into the rest of your day,
May you follow the faint light God places before you,
Trusting it will lead you home.
May expectancy rise in you like a star guiding your steps toward God's quiet presence.
May you become wise,
Not by having all the answers,
But by remaining open to the God who surprises.
And may grace,
Peace and love go with you every step of that journey across deserts and mountains towards the light today and every day.
Amen.
Grace and peace,
My friends.
Until tomorrow,
God bless you.
