2025 Sermons
Second Sunday after Christmas

Text: Luke 2:42-50
Sermon Outline
ALL ABOUT THE FATHER’S BUSINESS HAS BEEN DONE.
I. We intend to be about the Father’s business.
II. We suppose we’re about the Father’s business.
III. Christ was not only all about the Father’s business, but he also took care of all the business for us.
Sermon
Grace, mercy, and peace be to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
My dear beloved flock, the text for our meditation today is the Holy Gospel according to Saint Luke the second chapter verses forty through fity-two.
Boys and girls, I pray that you are doing well today. Have you ever been lost somewhere? One time, a little boy was lost in a large shopping mall. He sobbed, “I want my mommy.” The mall security people took him under their wing. They treated him to a hotdog, a chocolate milkshake, and a teddy bear to hug. He watched cartoons on the Disney Channel. Eventually, a woman security guard got off the intercom and said to the little boy, “One of the guards has found your mother.” The little boy didn’t miss a beat: “Don’t tell her where I am. I like it here.”
Thankfully, the mall security staff taking care of business. Somebody’s got to do it. Otherwise we might go merrily on our way thinking everything is just fine when in reality something is seriously out of order. Without the security staff in our lives, we might be lost forever.
In today’s Gospel, the twelve-year-old Jesus was lost—but Jesus wasn’t really the lost one. He was in the right place, in the temple. He was “about the Father’s business.” In fact, he was taking care of business, the Father’s business, for us. Thank the Lord, therefore, that, as our text this morning shows us, How does Jesus go about the Father’s Business, doing all of it for us? Ponder that question as you hear the rest of the sermon. You may go back to your seats and those who love you.
I.
No doubt we really do intend to be about our heavenly Father’s business. Certainly, that was true of Joseph and Mary in our text: “Now [Jesus’] parents went to Jerusalem every year at the Feast of the Passover. And when he was twelve years old, they went up according to custom” (vv 41–42). Mary and Joseph had some important business God had given them to attend. To begin with, of course, they had the business God had given to every Israelite: they were to go to Jerusalem on a regular basis to worship at the chief festivals, especially Passover. What’s more, though, this particular faithful Jewish couple had the duty of raising God’s own Son in the faith, seeing to it that he was trained in all of God’s Law.
When a Jewish boy was three years old he was given the tasselled garment directed by the Law (Numb. 15:38–41; Deut. 22:12). At five he usually began to learn portions of the Law, under his mother’s direction; these were passages written on scrolls, such as the shema or creed of Deut. 6:4, the Hallel Psalms (Ps. 114, 118, 136). When the boy was thirteen years old he wore, for the first time, the phylacteries, which the Jew always put on at the recital of the daily prayer. In the well-known and most ancient ‘Maxims of the Fathers’ (‘Pirke Avoth’), we read that, at the age of ten, a boy was to commence the study of the Mishna (the Mishna was a compilation of traditional interpretations of the Law); at eighteen he was to be instructed in the Gemara (the Gemara was a vast collection of interpretations of the Mishna. The Mishna and Gemara together make up the Talmud. The Mishna may roughly be termed the text, the Gemara the commentary, of the Talmud).
All this they did. Now this year, with their Son reaching the age Jewish custom called spiritual young adulthood, they took Jesus along. Very admirable, faithful.
We, God’s people here, intend to be about our Father’s business too. This time of year, lots of people resolve, fully intend, to improve this or that—New Year’s resolutions to go on a diet, exercise, stop smoking, limit ourselves to one drink or chocolate. Maybe we’ve made resolutions about spiritual business as well: to follow the example of Mary and Joseph by being more faithful in our Sunday morning worship, to gather here every week around Word and Sacrament. Maybe we’ve resolved to begin regular family devotions, to pray with our spouses and children. Maybe we’ve made a resolution to put to better use our talents in the teaching ministry, the music ministry, the men’s ministry, the women’s ministry of our church—even perhaps the ministry of our use of money, a more faithful thank offering to God. As believers in Christ, we really do intend to do these things. That’s being faithful, being about the Father’s business.
II.
So how are we doing? Maybe we think, assume, suppose we’re staying pretty well on task, being about our Father’s business—at least so far, just five days into the new year. Let’s look in again on Mary and Joseph: “And when the feast was ended, as they were returning, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem. His parents did not know it, but supposing him to be in the group they went a day’s journey, but then they began to search for him among their relatives and acquaintances, and when they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem, searching for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. . . . And when his parents saw him, they were astonished. And his mother said to him, “Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been searching for you in great distress’ ” (vv 43–46, 48).
Remember, Mary and Joseph had a tough job to do! God had given them the vocation of raising the Savior, and woe to them if they should misplace him somewhere along the way! So surely they felt they were being about the Father’s business when they looked here and there, as Mary herself said, under “great distress.” The Greek word implying great suffering.
We’ve all been lost sometime. It’s scary. At a busy airport, looking for the right concourse for your gate. Driving on the freeway in a strange city late at night and taking a wrong turn. First day at a new school and you can’t find your homeroom. Worse, did you ever lose a small child? The little one let go of your hand for a few seconds, and he was gone as the crowds streamed out of the stadium after a game or as you shop at the store. You’re in a panic. You know your business—Jobs 1, 2, and 3, your only business!—is to find your child!
Perhaps this is how we feel when we are stressing over things we know are critical. Emotional hurts. Sickness. Cancer and chemotherapy. Divorce. Death. Terrorism and turmoil. Crime and corruption in high places and low places. Our relationship with God: Does he really love us? Will our sins cut us off from him forever? What if I don’t keep all those good resolutions? What if I let the heavenly Father down, fail at his business?
Jesus has a gentle rebuke for Mary’s stressing: “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (v 49)—or as the King James Version puts it, “that I must be about my Father’s business?”
III.
Jesus’ rebuke to Mary is a loving one, just as it is to us, because his meaning is to free us from every stress. “There’s no need for you to be anxious,” he’s saying, “because I am about my Father’s business. In fact, I’m taking care of all that business for you.” At Christmas, Jesus came from heaven to rescue us from the hurricanes of trial and trouble. He came to save sin-tossed souls.
Mary and Joseph found Jesus in the temple sitting among the teachers, listening carefully and asking questions that we can only assume were brilliantly insightful. “And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers” (v 47). That was the Father’s business. God’s Son had been given the vocation of being the Father’s Anointed One, the Christ, the Savior of the world. Already at age 12, Jesus was tending to business, learning everything the Scriptures revealed about his mission.
And, of course, this was only the beginning. Jesus would perfectly understand everything the inspired prophets had written about him—that he would do battle with Satan, perfectly keeping the Law humanity had failed to keep; that he would work miracles of love, healing and freeing those struck down by the effects of sin; that he would gather a following, but that soon enough he would be abandoned by them, rejected by his own people, condemned, and have the whole weight of mankind’s damnation pressed on him; that he would be forsaken even by his Father and killed. That was the Father’s business for him. Jesus knew all that about himself in those Scriptures he discussed in the temple. And Jesus would take care of all that business, every detail. For us.
It’s all been done. Our stresses, our sins, the hurts, the sicknesses, the worries of our world, our fears about how God sees us—Jesus has taken care of them all. He has seen to it, by finishing every task the Father gave him, that God will be with us through all of these—every day as we go about our business and for an eternity free of every stress.
For us, Jesus devoted his life—from infancy to boyhood to cross to empty tomb—to being about the Father’s business. All done. For us.
The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard and keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.
Christmas Eve

The Song of the Angels
Luke 2:1–20
Sermon Outline
There’s Beauty to Be Found Considering the Noise of Christmas.
I. Like many on that first Christmas night, tonight we are singing the song of sorrow.
II. But the angel of the Lord has come armed with a new song for you to sing, a heavenly song of joy.
Sermon
When we think of the night Christ was born, we tend to think of it as being very serene and quiet, a night where no noise polluted the air. But we don’t think this because the Bible tells us it was abnormally noiseless that night of Christ’s birth. The Bible says no such thing about the decibel levels of Bethlehem or the surrounding area. Rather, we think this because that’s what we’re told by hymns like “O Little Town of Bethlehem” and, of course, “Silent Night.” Now, in fairness to those hymns, I don’t think the authors were trying to add to the Word of God or asserting that this silence was a historical fact. I think they use silence as a poetic way of depicting the tranquility of Christ’s birth, a way of showing how every other care and concern and sorrow and fear faded away in the moment that God’s only-begotten Son first breathed the air he was going to fill with salvation.
On the one hand, it’s a beautiful thing to consider that kind of metaphorical silence on the night of Christ’s birth. But on the other hand, too,
There’s Beauty to Be Found
Considering the Noise of Christmas,
to consider the songs of sorrow that were ringing through the air across the world on the night of Christ’s birth and how they can now be transformed into songs of joy.
I.
While it may have been rather quiet in that little town of Bethlehem, there was most certainly wailing somewhere. That night, just a few miles away in Jerusalem, King Herod perhaps cried out in his sleep, having nightmares over the blood he’d shed, how he’d taken the lives of his own family members, his wife, his own sons, to protect his throne, a throne that didn’t really belong to him. Perhaps that night Israel’s false king sang a song of sorrow, crying out for peace he couldn’t achieve, no matter how much blood he shed.
Certainly throughout the world, various emperors and kings and chiefs sang that same song the night of Christ’s birth, furious that all their strength, all their wisdom, all their wrath could not conquer their enemies, secure their glory, or bring peace to their people.
Throughout the world that night, wives sang the song of sorrow in empty beds, weeping over husbands that never came home from war. Husbands sang it as their wives died in childbirth. Mothers sang the song of sorrow as they watched their children swallowed up by diseases they couldn’t drive away. Fathers sang with them as their children wailed with empty stomachs. They sang the song of sorrow because they were unable to make the rain fall on the earth or force the barren ground to yield its fruit.
Throughout the world that night, sinners lost in darkness sang the song of sorrow, unable to see the light of God. They bloodied their hands crafting idols who wouldn’t answer their prayers. They sacrificed the flesh of animals, the flesh of men even, to bring themselves nearer God. But they couldn’t find him—couldn’t find his mercy, his forgiveness, his salvation, his arms. All they found was condemnation and confusion.
And across space and time, tonight, we are singing that song of sorrow. We look out at this world of darkness, a world filled with war and bloodshed, hatred and cruelty. Our versions of kings and emperors rise up against other nations and pour out violence to puff up their own glory, glory that will be forgotten in a generation. Anger and bitterness poison our world. Neighbors who are supposed to look out for one another look for reasons to hate one another. People who were supposed to be loyal to us cast us aside, betray us, lie about us, walk away from us. So we look out on a world teeming with the sins outside us, and we sing the song of sorrow.
We sing that song again when we see the world teeming with our own sins. Just as we were betrayed, we’ve betrayed. Just as we were hurt, we hurt. We’ve worshiped ourselves, made idols of our own pride, our greed, our selfishness. We tried to build a world of light and glory and comfort for ourselves by trusting in our own strength, our own goodness. And what was the result? More darkness, more cold, more loneliness, more sorrow, more sin. So tonight on the night of Christ’s birth, here we are, far from silent. Here we are singing the song of sorrow.
II.
But fear not, because now the angel of the Lord has burst into the night sky in Bethlehem, and he has come armed with a new song for you to sing. He has appeared in that silent night sky with the glory of the Lord shining around him, armed with words of peace that silence every song of sorrow and give you the right to join the heavenly song of joy.
“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger” (vv 11–12). This the angel declares, and then the song grows in voices and majesty, with the heavenly host proclaiming, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is well pleased!” (v 14).
And what do the words of this song say to you, to us, to all of mankind? Those words proclaimed to Herod and every other king that the hour has come for them to turn from their violence, to see that peace had now arrived, because flowing within the veins of that little child in Bethlehem was the only blood that could give man peace with God. That little child would grow into the man who would carry his cross to Calvary, shed his blood, and win salvation, win peace, win eternal life for all who believe.
Here, in these angelic words, the wife and mother who mourns her lifeless kin can know comfort, knowing that the one who will conquer the grave has arrived. Here, the father and husband who failed to drive away starvation and disease can rest as the infant Christ rests in his mother’s arms, knowing that nothing will stop the Son of God from crushing Satan, destroying sin, conquering death in his bloody cross and empty tomb. Here, those wandering in darkness dashing themselves to pieces on worthless idols can hear the song of the angels, rush to Bethlehem, look upon the countenance of the infant Christ, and see the face of God.
Tonight, you can do likewise. Tonight, you can join those of every tribe and nation and generation who weep the tears of sorrow. You can join those who share your song of sorrow over this sinful, fallen world. You can go to Bethlehem and join the angel’s song of joy because the Son of God is born. There before you is the one who will crush every sorrow, shatter every grave, dry every tear, and clothe you in the eternal comfort of his Father.
Tonight, the kings of the earth can sing with joy as they lay their heavy crowns at the infant feet of Christ, knowing that he will do what only the King of kings can do—give mankind peace with God and peace with one another. And in the same way, you can bring him what weighs you down, all your sins, your iniquities, your festering, clawing guilt that won’t leave you alone.
Leave those at the foot of the manger, because this is the Son of God born to carry them to the cross. And there at Calvary, your Lord finished the journey that begins in Bethlehem tonight. He destroyed your every iniquity, buried your every sin in a grave that will never be opened. With his nail-pierced hands, he ripped the devil’s claws off of you, killed the beast, and gave you the right to live with him in his kingdom forever.
So right now, rejoice in this holy night that is not silent. Rejoice in this holy night that is filled with singing saints of every nation, with angels and archangels, with all the host of heaven proclaiming the song of Christ’s love and victory, the song we never need to stop singing because Jesus Christ our Lord will never stop singing it to us.
In Jesus' name. Amen.