First Sunday of Advent
Holy Eucharist Rite II 10:00am
Preacher: Fr. Carson Webb
Advent begins not with cozy sentiment but with a wake‑up call. Fr. Carson describes this season as “holy vigilance,” a grace‑filled alertness that rouses the Church from spiritual drowsiness after Pentecost to watch for Christ’s coming in judgment and mercy. Drawing on Romans’ call to “wake from sleep” and Jesus’ command to “keep awake,” he insists that judgment is part of Christ’s loving lordship: the same light that guides us in acts of mercy will one day reveal the truth about us.
To picture vigilance, he tells a family story: after his aunt discovered a stranger passed out in her house, she and her husband lived for months in anxious terror over a mysterious pair of men’s shoes by their front door—only to learn later that they were their friend’s shoes, accidentally worn home. That mix‑up becomes a parable for Advent: fear can make us misread Christ’s approach as a menacing thief rather than a trusted friend. The dawn‑light of Advent, by contrast, is like Bach’s “Sleepers, Wake!” organ prelude, gently summoning disciples to step into the day, cast off the works of darkness, and “put on” the armor of light.
In the Gospel, when Jesus speaks of two in the field and one taken, Fr. Carson explains that this is not a secret rapture chart but an image of those who are awake to the Lord’s voice versus those who drift through life unaware. Holy vigilance is not paranoid insomnia, constantly scanning for disaster, but hopeful attentiveness to the Lord who comes both at the last day and in the ordinary rhythms of daily life. The question is whether, when Christ arrives at the door of the heart, we will mistake his “shoes” for a thief’s—or recognize him as the Friend who shares his very footsteps and walks us home.
So the Church takes up the ancient Advent cry, “Maranatha, come, Lord Jesus,” asking that his unfading light would sift our hearts, melt our frigid darkness, and conform us to his radiant likeness. In that light, disciples are sent into the world to practice spiritual and corporal works of mercy, trusting that the One who judges us is also the Friend who calls us “beloved” and equips us to walk in his ways.
The readings:
Isaiah 61:10–62:3
Psalm 147
Galatians 3:23–25; 4:4–7
John 1:1–18
Collect:
Almighty God, you have poured upon us the new light of your incarnate Word: Grant that this light, enkindled in our hearts, may shine forth in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
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First Sunday of Advent
Holy Eucharist Rite II 10:00am
Preacher: Fr. Carson Webb
Advent begins not with cozy sentiment but with a wake‑up call. Fr. Carson describes this season as “holy vigilance,” a grace‑filled alertness that rouses the Church from spiritual drowsiness after Pentecost to watch for Christ’s coming in judgment and mercy. Drawing on Romans’ call to “wake from sleep” and Jesus’ command to “keep awake,” he insists that judgment is part of Christ’s loving lordship: the same light that guides us in acts of mercy will one day reveal the truth about us.
To picture vigilance, he tells a family story: after his aunt discovered a stranger passed out in her house, she and her husband lived for months in anxious terror over a mysterious pair of men’s shoes by their front door—only to learn later that they were their friend’s shoes, accidentally worn home. That mix‑up becomes a parable for Advent: fear can make us misread Christ’s approach as a menacing thief rather than a trusted friend. The dawn‑light of Advent, by contrast, is like Bach’s “Sleepers, Wake!” organ prelude, gently summoning disciples to step into the day, cast off the works of darkness, and “put on” the armor of light.
In the Gospel, when Jesus speaks of two in the field and one taken, Fr. Carson explains that this is not a secret rapture chart but an image of those who are awake to the Lord’s voice versus those who drift through life unaware. Holy vigilance is not paranoid insomnia, constantly scanning for disaster, but hopeful attentiveness to the Lord who comes both at the last day and in the ordinary rhythms of daily life. The question is whether, when Christ arrives at the door of the heart, we will mistake his “shoes” for a thief’s—or recognize him as the Friend who shares his very footsteps and walks us home.
So the Church takes up the ancient Advent cry, “Maranatha, come, Lord Jesus,” asking that his unfading light would sift our hearts, melt our frigid darkness, and conform us to his radiant likeness. In that light, disciples are sent into the world to practice spiritual and corporal works of mercy, trusting that the One who judges us is also the Friend who calls us “beloved” and equips us to walk in his ways.
The readings:
Isaiah 61:10–62:3
Psalm 147
Galatians 3:23–25; 4:4–7
John 1:1–18
Collect:
Almighty God, you have poured upon us the new light of your incarnate Word: Grant that this light, enkindled in our hearts, may shine forth in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
Sermon for Christ the King Sunday 16 November 2025 with Fr. David Bumsted
Saint John's Tulsa: Sermons & Homilies
9 minutes 40 seconds
1 week ago
Sermon for Christ the King Sunday 16 November 2025 with Fr. David Bumsted
Sunday of Christ the King
Holy Eucharist Rite II
10:00am
Preacher: Fr. David Bumsted
Let’s be honest: sometimes the details you notice in church raise more questions than they answer. After a recent All Souls Day Requiem, Father David found himself fielding questions from college students—most from non-denominational backgrounds - about all sorts of features in our sanctuary. But the hot topic? That peculiar, inaccessible platform way above the altar - the Baldacchino.
Turns out, there’s a reason for that architectural “throne in the sky.” It’s not just a quirky construction detail. The Baldacchino symbolizes the seat of a monarch: a visual proclamation that Christ Jesus - crucified, risen, and reigning - is King over everything. Even the golden crown at the front sometimes casts a shadow over the head of the crucified Christ in our stained glass, a “coincidence” that powerfully drives home our faith: in this space, Jesus is Lord and King of all.
As our tradition and scripture remind us, Christ’s kingship is nothing like the temporary power or dazzling triumphs of earthly rulers. Where they rule by strength and succession, Jesus reigns by sacrificial love forever. He is, in the words of Colossians, “the image of the invisible God... in him all things hold together.” His reign never ends. He shaped the entire universe and, in love, took on flesh, became a servant, and died so that we might share his glory.
The strange platform, the crown’s shadow, and every soaring detail in the church draw us to this cosmic and intimate truth: Christ’s victory and kingship are found in humility - the cross is his true throne. While rulers of this world seek power, Jesus’ blood is shed for us so we might become part of his kingdom.
As we approach Advent, preparing our hearts for Christ’s coming at Christmas, Father David invites us to look again at the signs of Christ’s kingship all around us - especially the ones we might have overlooked a hundred times before. Take heart, for Christ reigns eternally. His power and love are enough for this life - and for the life to come.
Readings:
Jeremiah 23:1-6
Canticle 16 (The Song of Zechariah Luke 1: 68-79)
Colossians 1:11-20
Luke 23:33-43
Collect:
Almighty and everlasting God, whose will it is to restore all things in your well-beloved Son, the King of kings and Lord of lords: Mercifully grant that the peoples of the earth, divided and enslaved by sin, may be freed and brought together under his most gracious rule; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
Saint John's Tulsa: Sermons & Homilies
First Sunday of Advent
Holy Eucharist Rite II 10:00am
Preacher: Fr. Carson Webb
Advent begins not with cozy sentiment but with a wake‑up call. Fr. Carson describes this season as “holy vigilance,” a grace‑filled alertness that rouses the Church from spiritual drowsiness after Pentecost to watch for Christ’s coming in judgment and mercy. Drawing on Romans’ call to “wake from sleep” and Jesus’ command to “keep awake,” he insists that judgment is part of Christ’s loving lordship: the same light that guides us in acts of mercy will one day reveal the truth about us.
To picture vigilance, he tells a family story: after his aunt discovered a stranger passed out in her house, she and her husband lived for months in anxious terror over a mysterious pair of men’s shoes by their front door—only to learn later that they were their friend’s shoes, accidentally worn home. That mix‑up becomes a parable for Advent: fear can make us misread Christ’s approach as a menacing thief rather than a trusted friend. The dawn‑light of Advent, by contrast, is like Bach’s “Sleepers, Wake!” organ prelude, gently summoning disciples to step into the day, cast off the works of darkness, and “put on” the armor of light.
In the Gospel, when Jesus speaks of two in the field and one taken, Fr. Carson explains that this is not a secret rapture chart but an image of those who are awake to the Lord’s voice versus those who drift through life unaware. Holy vigilance is not paranoid insomnia, constantly scanning for disaster, but hopeful attentiveness to the Lord who comes both at the last day and in the ordinary rhythms of daily life. The question is whether, when Christ arrives at the door of the heart, we will mistake his “shoes” for a thief’s—or recognize him as the Friend who shares his very footsteps and walks us home.
So the Church takes up the ancient Advent cry, “Maranatha, come, Lord Jesus,” asking that his unfading light would sift our hearts, melt our frigid darkness, and conform us to his radiant likeness. In that light, disciples are sent into the world to practice spiritual and corporal works of mercy, trusting that the One who judges us is also the Friend who calls us “beloved” and equips us to walk in his ways.
The readings:
Isaiah 61:10–62:3
Psalm 147
Galatians 3:23–25; 4:4–7
John 1:1–18
Collect:
Almighty God, you have poured upon us the new light of your incarnate Word: Grant that this light, enkindled in our hearts, may shine forth in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
