Fourth Sunday of Advent — He Comes to Rule

As Christmas draws near, the Church becomes very clear about something we might prefer to keep vague.

The child who is coming does not come merely to comfort us.
He comes to rule.

That is the truth Advent presses on us in its final days.

The readings today do not show us calm, settled people.
They show us people under pressure.

Fear.
Uncertainty.
A future that feels unstable.

And that matters, because God does not wait for calm conditions to act.
He comes into the instability.

The question Scripture places before us is not whether God will come —
but how we will respond when He does.

The first reading gives us King Ahaz.

Ahaz is afraid.
Political threats surround him.
His sense of control is slipping.

And God speaks to him directly:

“Ask the Lord your God for a sign.”

This is not a challenge.
It is mercy.

God is offering Ahaz reassurance —
but reassurance on God’s terms.

Ahaz refuses.

He sounds religious:
“I will not test the Lord.”

But Scripture is clear: this is not humility.
It is resistance.

Ahaz does not want God too close.
Because if God comes close,
Ahaz must stop ruling his life on his own terms.

So God gives the sign anyway:

“The virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and shall name him Emmanuel.”

God does not ask permission to save.
But He does ask for obedience.

The Gospel gives us Joseph —
not a king, not powerful, not in control.

Joseph is confused.
His future collapses.
Nothing makes sense.

And yet Joseph does what Ahaz does not.

When God speaks, Joseph listens.

The angel says:

“Do not be afraid.”

And then comes the command.

The child comes from God.
And the child must be named Jesus —
because He will save His people from their sins.

This is not reassurance without demand.
It is a claim on Joseph’s life.

Joseph does not negotiate.
He does not delay.
He does not ask God to explain Himself first.

Joseph obeys.

And because of that obedience,
salvation enters the world quietly,
through an ordinary man who allows God to rule.

That moment has not passed.

We are living in it.

We will be asked — quietly but constantly —
to soften the faith,
to adjust what the Church teaches,
to keep religion polite and private,
to believe in Christ without letting Him command.

We are told we can have faith —
as long as it does not rule our decisions,
our morals,
our relationships,
our use of our bodies,
our public lives.

That is exactly the moment Ahaz resisted —
and the moment Joseph obeyed.

This is the truth Advent refuses to hide.

Emmanuel does not come as a guest.
He comes as Lord.

He does not hover politely at the edges of our lives.
He comes to claim ground.

To rule how we live at home.
How we forgive.
How we worship.
How we speak.
How we act when faith costs us something.

This is not harsh.
It is mercy.

Because the One who rules
is the One who saves.

In these final days of Advent, the Church cries out:

O Oriens — O Rising Sun.
Come and enlighten those who sit in darkness.

Light does not negotiate.
It rises.

Christ does not ask whether He may shine.
He shines — and reveals.

Light comforts, yes.
But it also exposes.

And exposure is not punishment.
It is the beginning of healing.

The year ahead will not be neutral.

Faith will be pressed to shrink.
Conviction will be called unkind.
Truth will be treated as optional.

In that world, Advent gives us clarity.

Christian faith is not a private opinion.
It is the truth the Church has received from Christ —
not to burden us, but to save us.

And if your faith feels weak tonight,
if obedience feels costly,
if surrender feels risky —

Joseph reminds us that God does not ask for mastery.
He asks for trust.

So as Christmas stands at the door,
the Church asks us not for nostalgia,
but for faith.

Not for warm feeling,
but for obedience.

He comes to rule —
not to crush us,
but to free us.

May we not resist like Ahaz.
May we obey like Joseph.

And may we welcome Emmanuel —
God with us —
as Lord and King.