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 XXIII Pentecost 16 November 2025 with Fr. David Bumsted
Saint John's Tulsa: Sermons & Homilies
11 minutes 3 seconds
2 weeks ago
Sermon for XXIII Pentecost 16 November 2025 with Fr. David Bumsted
23rd Sunday after Pentecost: When Reality Hits (and Why That's Actually Good News)
Sermon by Father David Bumsted
Saint John's Episcopal Church | Tulsa, Oklahoma
Nobody really loves a cold dose of reality—especially when you're feeling pretty good about yourself. Father David learned this the hard way back in his music days, when his band lost a battle of the bands competition despite being the better musicians. Turns out the other band just worked the crowd better. (He admits he's still a little salty about it.) But that disappointing moment ended up leading him exactly where he needed to be: right here at Saint John's.
The disciples got their own reality check in this week's Gospel. They're standing around the temple in Jerusalem, taking in this magnificent building, probably imagining themselves as key players in the coming messianic kingdom. And then Jesus just lays it out: this whole thing is coming down. There will be wars, earthquakes, persecution—the works.
But here's what Jesus is really getting at: the stone temple isn't going to last, and it was never meant to. Because now Christ's presence dwells in his people. We're the temple. The church is where God's presence is known in the world. Which means we can't just stand around admiring the building or looking busy—we're being built up as dwelling places for God himself.
Sometimes the harsh truth is exactly what redirects us toward the greater life Christ has for us.
This Week's Readings
First Reading: Isaiah 65:17-25
Psalm: Canticle 9
Second Reading: 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
Gospel: Luke 21:5-19
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Saint John's Episcopal Church
Tulsa, Oklahoma
Sunday Services:
8:00 AM – Holy Eucharist
10:00 AM – Holy Eucharist
5:30 PM – Choral Evensong
Wednesday Service:
5:30 PM – Holy Eucharist
Whether you're visiting Tulsa or looking for a church home, we'd love to have you join us!
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.
