Christmas Eve Morning Homily“Waiting for God to Act”

This morning feels different.

Christmas has not yet arrived —
but it is very close.

The Church holds us in that space deliberately.
Not rushing us to the crib,
not yet singing the full joy of Christmas night,
but asking us to pause and watch.

Because before God acts,
He always teaches His people how to wait.

In the first reading, King David thinks the waiting is over.

He has peace.
He has a palace.
Life has settled.

And so David decides it is time to act:
I will build a house for God.

It is a good instinct.
But it is not God’s plan.

Through the prophet Nathan, God stops him.

Not because David is wrong,
but because David has misunderstood who acts first.

God reminds him:

I took you from the pasture.
I made you king.
I have been with you wherever you went.

Before David did anything for God,
God had already done everything for David.

That is the lesson of Christmas Eve morning.

Then God makes a promise that stretches far beyond David’s lifetime:

I will make you a house.
Your kingdom will stand firm forever.

David wanted to build a building.
God promises a family.
A line.
A future that will not end.

And God adds something almost impossible to imagine:

I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to Me.

At this point, the promise is still waiting.
Still unseen.
Still carried only in hope.

Just like this morning.

The Gospel shows us where that promise finally arrives.

Not in a palace.
Not in Jerusalem.
But in a small house in Nazareth.

The angel speaks to Mary,
and the words echo the promise to David:

The Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David.
His kingdom will have no end.

What was promised in strength
is fulfilled in humility.

What was spoken to a king
is completed in a young woman’s yes.

Notice something essential.

God does not force this moment.

The angel announces.
But Mary must respond.

She does not understand everything.
She does not control the outcome.
But she trusts.

“Let it be done to me according to your word.”

And with that consent,
the waiting ends —
though the world does not yet know it.

That is where we stand this morning.

Before the angels sing.
Before the shepherds run.
Before the child is laid in the manger —

there is silence.
There is trust.
There is waiting.

Christmas does not begin with noise.
It begins with God acting quietly
and a human heart making room.

So this morning, the Church does not yet shout for joy.
She watches.
She waits.
She remembers.

God keeps His promises.
God builds the house.
God comes when the time is right.

By tonight, the waiting will be over.
The Word will be made flesh.
The promise will be visible.

But this morning,
we learn how to wait like Mary —
trusting that God is already at work,
even when the world still seems quiet.