Fourth Sunday of Advent — Will We Let God Come Close?

The Fourth Sunday of Advent brings us right to the edge of Christmas.
And instead of sentiment, the Church gives us honesty.

Because before God comes close,
Scripture shows us what is already close to us:

fear, confusion, and a deep longing for meaning.

And that is not ancient history.
That is life today.

Many people today are afraid —
of instability,
of the future,
of losing control.

Many are confused —
about truth,
about identity,
about what really matters.

And many are searching —
hungry for meaning,
but unsure where to find it.

The Church does not deny any of this.
She places it directly before God
and asks a sharper question:

What happens when God comes close to people like us?

The first reading gives us King Ahaz.

Ahaz is afraid.
His world feels unstable.
The future looks threatening.

And God does something extraordinary.
He speaks directly and says:

“Ask the Lord your God for a sign.”

This is not a test.
It is mercy.

God is offering reassurance — real reassurance —
an opening for faith.

But Ahaz refuses.

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

Scripture is clear:
this is not humility.
It is fear disguised as piety.

Ahaz does not want God too close.
Because if God comes close,
Ahaz must trust — and change.

That temptation is alive today.

We can be religious enough to sound faithful,
but cautious enough to keep God at a distance.

So God gives the sign anyway:

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

God does not withdraw when we are afraid.
He comes closer.

The Gospel gives us another man in a similar moment — Joseph.

Joseph is not powerful.
He is not calculating.
He is confused.

Nothing makes sense.
His plans collapse.
The future he imagined disappears overnight.

But when God speaks, Joseph listens.

The angel says the words spoken whenever salvation is near:

“Do not be afraid.”

Joseph is told the truth — not comfort alone.

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 cost.
It demands obedience.

Joseph does not understand everything.
But he obeys.

And because of that obedience,
salvation enters the world quietly.

St Paul writes to a world very much like ours.

A world full of opinions.
Ideas.
Voices claiming truth.

Paul does not offer spirituality.
He announces a fact.

God has sent His Son.

The Catholic Faith is not self-expression.
It is not a mood or merely a lifestyle.

It is the claim
that the eternal Son of God
has entered history
to claim authority over human life.

That matters deeply in 2025,
when meaning is promised everywhere
and found almost nowhere.

So Advent brings everything to this point:

Will we let God come close — or keep Him at a safe distance?

And this is where it stops being abstract.

Letting God come close is not a feeling —
it is a claim.

It means allowing Him to speak into the parts of life we usually keep private:
how we live together at home,
how we use our bodies,
how we speak and behave online,
how we forgive — or refuse to forgive,
how seriously we take worship, prayer, and the sacraments.

Emmanuel does not hover politely at the edge of our lives.
He comes to rule.

Like Ahaz,
we may prefer control to conversion.

Like Joseph,
we may be confused.

Like Paul’s world,
we may want meaning but without authority,
hope — without truth,
comfort — without repentance.

But Advent does not let us stay there.

This is why, in these final days of Advent,
the Church cries out:

O Oriens — O Rising Sun.
Splendour of eternal light.
Come and enlighten those who sit in darkness.

Light does not ask permission.
It rises.

Christ comes not because the world is ready,
but because the world is dark.

O Oriens, the Rising Sun, exposes fear like Ahaz’s.
Clarifies confusion like Joseph’s.
Answers a restless world’s longing for meaning.

Light comforts —
but it also reveals.

And revelation always asks for a response.

And this matters because 2026 will not be a neutral year.

It will not drift gently toward holiness on its own.

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.

That is exactly the moment Ahaz faced.
And exactly the choice St. Joseph got right.

Letting God come close means accepting that He will interrupt us.
He will disturb settled habits.
He will challenge patterns we have normalised.
He will ask for obedience before understanding.

Advent joy is not the joy of everything being resolved.
It is the joy of knowing who is Lord
when things are not resolved.

The Fourth Sunday of Advent strips everything back.

Fear.
Confusion.
Longing.

And then it gives us one answer:

God comes anyway.

O Oriens rises.
Emmanuel draws near.
Salvation enters the world — quietly, firmly, decisively.

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

And this faith is not a private opinion;
it is the truth that the Church has received from Christ
and is duty bound to proclaim.

So let the light rise.
Let God come close.
And let us receive the Saviour
who comes not to affirm us as we are,
but to save us —
and make us new.