A New World Is Coming/Here

Rev. Jaz Bowen-Waring |

Epiphany 3 January 12, 2025

Today is Baptism of our Lord Sunday, and we’re diving into Luke’s account of Jesus’ baptism. The funny thing is, Luke doesn’t give us much about Jesus here—he gets two verses! Most of the story is focused on John the Baptist, this wild prophet who’s setting the stage for Jesus to begin his ministry. Let’s zoom out for a second and look at John. He’s not hanging out in Jerusalem, where all the political, cultural, and religious power is concentrated. He’s out by the Jordan River, living rough, speaking hard truths, and calling people to change their ways. Now, John’s not just some random guy shouting at the clouds. He’s part of this long tradition of prophets—people who speak truth to power, people who stand at the edges of the system and say, “This isn’t working anymore.” And his message? It’s big. Like, cosmic. He’s talking about a whole new world. “The mountains will be leveled. The valleys raised. The crooked paths made straight.” What’s he saying? He’s saying everything is about to change. He’s calling people to prepare their hearts, their lives, their communities. To burn away the cha—that stu that doesn’t nourish, that doesn’t bring life. To make space for something new. When people ask how they’re supposed to prepare for this new kingdom, his answer is practical: share what you have, stop exploiting others, and live justly. But John’s not just about harsh warnings—he’s pointing toward hope. He’s preparing people for Jesus, who’s bringing a new way of being, a kingdom where power is shared, and equality is the norm. Of course, the old world doesn’t like this kind of talk. Because the old? It doesn’t go quietly. The old ghts back. It resists. It lashes out. John ends up in prison, and we know how his story ends. It’s a preview of what’s coming for Jesus, too. Then we nally get to Jesus’ baptism. John’s in jail, so we don’t know exactly who baptizes him, but Jesus humbly steps into the river. Afterward, as he’s praying, something amazing happens: the heavens open, the Holy Spirit comes down as a dove, and God’s voice says, “You are my beloved; I’m so pleased with you.” Think about that—Jesus hasn’t even started his ministry yet, and God’s already arming him. This is a turning point. It’s the moment where heaven touches earth, and Jesus begins to live out this new reality that John’s been talking about. It’s a call to transformation— not just for Jesus, but for us. Fast forward to today, and we’re still caught between the old world and the new. We see the damage the old ways have done—things like climate change, wildres, and exploitation. But there’s hope. Isaiah reminds us that God is with us, even when things feel overwhelming: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you…when you walk through re, you shall not be burned.” Jesus’ baptism shows us that God is in this with us. We’re called to join in the work of creating something new—to let go of what doesn’t bring life, to care for each other, and to care for the earth. We don’t have to be afraid, because God promises to walk with us every step of the way. So, let’s take the plunge. Let’s get our feet wet and our hands dirty in this work of transformation. Because this new world God is bringing? It’s worth it. Amen.

Sermon on Matthew 2:1-12

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

A hard time they had of it. The Wise Ones had journeyed far in a time before planes, trains, and automobiles. They were strangers in this land, foreigners not sure exactly where they would find what they were looking for.

Sure, they followed the star, but when they had reached the right region, they had to start asking around. And Herod “was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him.”

They were probably afraid for different reasons. King Herod was unquestionably afraid for his power. Whispers of a new king could bring an uprising and threaten his throne.

People in general were perhaps afraid of these travelers themselves—people from far away with strange clothes and practices who probably looked travel-worn and maybe a little suspicious.

But what they were really afraid of was probably Herod. If Herod felt threatened, they were all going to suffer the consequences, and indeed by the end of the story, all the family members of two-year-olds and younger did.

Herod was jealous and violent. As if the Wise Ones didn’t have enough to deal with trying to find the child after a long journey following nothing but the stars, they now had to dodge the schemes of an evil king.

But God did send a star that led them to where the baby was. God did orchestrate a powerful encounter where scholars and mystics from far away worshiped the baby Jesus and brought him tribute. Then, God sent the Wise Ones a dream, warning them not to play into Herod’s hands, and they went home by another way.

This story is full of surprising ways of knowing and being.

There are unexpected characters: foreigners from a distant land.

They paid attention to nature: trusting a star to lead them on their journey.

They didn’t pay attention to King Herod, with all his power and authority.

But instead, they trusted a dream that defied him.

God works in this story through strangers, mystics, nature, and dreams instead of an earthly authority figure.

God works apart from the usual channels to contrast Herod’s violent kingship with Jesus’ humble, surprising, compassionate Reign of God.

This time of year, it’s especially easy to go along with what’s around us.

Companies are spending a ton of money to advertise to us and make us feel inadequate—but wait! They know exactly what will fix us: their product!

We have to lose weight, regardless of what will actually improve our health, because they say so!

We have to buy all the planners and join all the courses, regardless of whether that will actually get our lives in order, because they say so!

We have toget ahead, regardless of our behavior’s effect on others, because they say so!

Our worldly authority figures can often lead us astray.

Maybe we, too, need to pay attention to different ways of knowing and being. Our story today calls us to something different.

Our story speaks of different, countercultural ways of knowing and being:

1.    Listening to outsiders like the Wise Ones instead of those in power like Herod

Who are the wise ones in our lives who might not have worldly power but who have wisdom to share with us? There are many forms of ancestral knowledge, family histories, and cultural practices that ground us in our past and prepare us for our future.

2.    Paying attention to nature – like the star

What might nature tell us if we slow down and pay attention to it? What can we learn from the changing seasons? How is climate change affecting even our neighborhoods?

3.    Trusting our inner knowing – like the Wise Ones trusting their dreams

Whether it’s God speaking directly to us in dreams or just noticing when our shoulders tense up, our bodies and intuitions have a lot to teach us if we learn to listen.

4.    Being willing to go a different way than what we expect for the sake of others, like the Wise Ones taking a different way home to protect baby Jesus

We can choose to live in countercultural ways for the sake of others: buying less to care for Earth’s resources or considering how our food gets to us, tipping outrageously to brighten someone’s day, ortruly living as if we believe every person is made in the image of God.

We of course have to use our critical thinking skills with all of this. I’m not looking to start a conspiracy theory or a cult. If you have a dream that says to harm someone, don’t do that.

But what if we really let God speak to us through all our ways of knowing?

What if we allowed ourselves to look a bit foolish or make what seems to our culture like a bad business decision for the sake of our neighbors?

What if we let Jesus be our guiding star?

We might just be walking each other home by a different way—a way of hope, peace, justice, and compassion that is the Reign of God.

Let’s be open to living a different way.

Receive this “Blessing for wisdom for Epiphany Sunday” from Kate Bowler:

Wise men.
They followed a star to where you lay,
tiny king.
Wonderfully ordinary in the sounds
you made,
perfect in the way all babies are,
but worshipped by important men,
wise men bearing gifts,
looking, searching, plotting trajectories
and making plans that,
once they were sure the signs were right,
they’d follow.

Blessed are we who are searching,
looking for the signs,
desiring above all the star, the wisdom,
the light by which we might see.
In our time, in our world.

God, can the light of that star reach us,
these thousands of years later?
And how would we know it,
the fact of your coming?

It seems hard to see in the broad daylight,
But, oh, how it meets us in the dark
from light-years away.
All creation knew it:
the star at your birth,
the seas at the sound of your voice,
the darkening skies at your death,
the gladdened hearts at your sweet return.

God, blessed are we who bow in the dark,
feeling our way forward in the unknowns
to wait and watch for the pinpoint of light
that will be your gift to us.

Sermon on Luke 1:39-55

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

Our Advent theme this year is A Weary World Rejoices, a line from the beloved Christmas carol “O Holy Night,” because there’s a lot of weariness in the world, even after almost a full year of focusing on Sabbath in this congregation.

Each week, we’ve been pondering one of God’s promises.This final week of Advent is the promise of justice.

It might be surprising that Mary was singing for joy, since the unexpected pregnancy upended her life, threatened her betrothal, and opened her to scorn and shame and potentially even violence.

But it’s not surprising that she sang of her deepest wish: God’s justice.

She was living on land occupied by the Roman Empire. They were known for pax Romana, or Roman peace, but it wasn’t true peace. It was enforced by violence.

Taxes were heavy, not to mention the tax collectors who took their unfair share on top of the going rate, and most of the population was living at subsistence level or below.

Life was really hard for almost everyone.

And this was the time that God chose to become human, to enter into our human messiness and struggle.

In the divine messenger’s visit, Mary understood what God was promising. This was not just an unexpected child; this was the child, the Messiah. This child would sit on “the throne of his ancestor David.He [would] reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there [would] be no end.”[1]

This was no ordinary child. This child was “the Son of the Most High.” This child would fulfill God’s promise to David—the promise that seemed to have been broken when God’s people were taken into exile, but which Jeremiah had prophesied would be fulfilled one day.

Mary, along with all her people, had been waiting for that prophecy to come true—for the Messiahto come and usher in the Day of the Lord, when God’s justice and mercy would be complete.

God didn’t wait for a time of peace, prosperity, comfort, and ease to become one of us. And when God chose to be born,it was not to an earthly king or warlord amid riches and power, but to a poor girlin an inconsequential town in occupied land in a time of violence and fear. God showed Godself in the margins of society.

God entered fully into the human experience when things were not as they should be.

And things are never as they should be, are they?

Many of our problems are different than in the first century. I wouldn’t want to trade modern medicine or indoor plumbing for first century living.

But today there’s still poverty. There’s still injustice.

For all our modern conveniences, there are still

1.    children who go to bed hungry,

2.    elders who are lonely and isolated,

3.    innocent people on death row,

4.    families torn apart by war and violence,

5.    dozens upon dozens of people who are in need of our pantry and hot meal each week,

6.    and around 400 unhoused people who died in Orange County just this year.

Our world is not as it should be. God’s justice and mercy still seem far away all too often.

That’s why we still observe Advent. We’re still waiting.

It’s why we need Mary’s song, which has become known as the Magnificat, because it magnifies God’s glory. So many people have been inspired by it and have put it to their own music—we’re singing some versions today.

We need the song of a brave, hopeful girl living in poverty who trusted in God’s promises and experienced God’s faithfulness.

She sang of the justice that was coming, the world God was creating despite the violence and evil that surrounded her.

She knew that God fulfills God’s promises.

God was entering into the human experience when things were not as they should be.

God wasn’t raining fire or smiting wicked people with lightning.

God was entering our world peacefully—so unlike our world where we try to dominate each other.

Mary sang of the truth that God was restoring the world and compassionately bringing justice.

This Advent, we too are remembering God’s promises of truth, compassion, restoration, and justice.

Advent ushers in a gentle revolution of justice through God’s love and mercy.

We sing Mary’s words today, remembering the way God turns the world upside down to bring justice and mercy into our world.

We don’t see the fullness of God’s Reign yet, but we will.

We look to Mary’s Child to see God in the flesh.

And while we wait for his return, we live in his example—a life lived in the pattern of Mary’s song—perhaps a lullaby she sang him at night.

God’s gentle revolution of justice doesn’t mean that we sit idly by, waiting passively for Jesus’ return and ignoring the need of our neighbors today—by no means!

Even as we try to love God and our neighbors every day, God is teaching us to live in ways that surprise and confuse the world around us.

1.    We live in service, not vying for power.

2.    We love people instead of using them.

3.    We feed people body and soul

4.    We care for creation instead of carelessly using up its resources.

5.    We pay attention to whose voices aren’t being listened to.

6.    We remember that in Sabbath God invites us to rest instead of hustling every minute.

God brings about a gentle revolution of justice in us as we strive for human dignity, the preservation of creation, and for every person to feel loved and connected as the image of God that they are.

God is bringing about that gentle revolution of justice, and it will be complete someday, and in the meantime, God empowers us to work for that justice in the here and now, inspired by Mary’s song and Jesus’ example.

Receive this “Blessing for the Coming of Justice” from Kate Bowler:

Blessed are we,

starting to see the height and depth and breadth

of God’s love that includes all of us,

even the not-so-perfect.

Blessed are you, Mary, for saying yes to the big risk

of being God’s dwelling place.

Blessed are we, like Mary,

starting to sing our own songs of joy

at the thought that maybe this

Advent we too can start to trust it,

to risk it, to live it out,

the love that decides to love first,

before it is earned or deserved,

the love that your incarnation

embodies to the full.

Blessed are we,

breathing in the truth that we belong,

and so does everybody else.

[1] Luke 1:32-33