Mother Wisdom Comes to Me (John 1 ✦ Sirach 24)

“Ancient Spirit of Wisdom” ©Jassy Watson Art

This sermon was first preached at Augustana Lutheran Church in Portland, OR on January 4, 2026. The full livestream of the service may be viewed here. (It may viewed here or below. The sermon begins at 32:00.) 
​Scripture texts: John 1:1-18 , Sirach 24:1-12

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May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing to you Oh Lord, my pulse, my breath, my life. Amen.

Blessed new year, friends, and welcome to 2026! All is not well. Yesterday, our authoritarian leader kidnapped another authoritarian leader and his wife, for committing the same alleged crimes he already pardoned another authoritarian leader for committing. As nations, and people, hang in the balance, to us a child is born. 

Last night, bombs our taxes pay for instead of healthcare and education rained down on our siblings in Gaza and Venezuela, killing God’s Image Bearers. And as the whole world looks on in horror at what demands deep analysis — why and how we got here, and what we ought to do to claw our way to some kind of sanity — to us a child is given. 

When everything in us cries out for justice, answers, a step by step YouTube video for saving ourselves and our neighbors, Christ comes, but alas: not as a king or a general; not as a professor with a syllabus, or a justice with a gavel. 

He comes as a baby, as A Word — a Living One, an ancient one, but still just a Word. Calling us to a different posture: of listening and hearing, not hustling. No, this Word will not be hustled. He will take decades to become the man who will stay dashing the expectations of those thirsty for war rather than a Way through. He will stay moving like Mist, like Mystery, like Mother, among those itching for a Master. 

Because he is, we’ll come to find, a Mama’s Boy, and She’s not so much visible in the color of his eyes and hair, as in the shuffle of his steps and the way he smooths his garments; in the tender way he holds his disciple’s feet as he washes them, and the way he cloaks his words in wait for ears to bend. 

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