The Three Kings/Magi; Los Reyes Magos

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1 In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, 2 asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage." 3 When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; 4 and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. 5 They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: 6 "And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.' " 7 Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. 8 Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage." 9 When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. 10 When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. 11 On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 12 And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road. (Matthew 2:1-12 NRSV)

Happy New Year, Friend! I say this early because this will be a busy weak for this old man. On Wednesday I will undergo cataract surgery in San Antonio early in the morning. And because the following day is a holiday, that same afternoon of the 31st I have to return to the clinic for the first checkup. Prayers for me are appreciated. I will spend the rest of that week trying to rest and recover. ConCafe will resume as soon as I can see better. I pray the best of what 2026t will offer to you and that you bless God by blessing others!

Several years ago, I was honored to serve on a national Board of The United Methodist Church, elected by the Jurisdiction and served two terms. I was a director of this board responsible for helping make decisions to guide the Board in its work within the Church. As a director I was part of a larger group of elected directors from every jurisdiction from all corners of the world. I made some amazing friends who impacted my life. The board was named The Board of Discipleship. Within it were several important areas of work the Church tries to carry out; evangelism, discipleship, curriculum of Sunday School, The Upper Room, et al. We usually met in Nashville at least once a year, and committee membership for some necessitated additional meetings either in Nashville or other areas. I was honored and humbled to be a director and enjoyed the many friendships and acquaintances that came with the job. One evening as we broke for the day, as we were exiting the building, I was behind a director from Louisiana, who fell and hurt her leg. She was in great pain and I stopped to assist and I asked several of the staff from the Board to help. No one did. These were people who lived and worked in Nashville and knew the city better than me. No one seemed concerned. Mentally I asked myself is it because this lady is Black and I'm brown that we're being ignored? I felt anger but still the concern this lady needed to get to a hospital and it took my getting a taxi to drive us to an emergency room to finally get to a place where her pain could be addressed. I also somehow, hopefully, that someone from the board would show up to check on us. Nada. No one. I added it to the List of What's Wrong with the Church.

At the top of that list or near it, is King Herod. He was born or made wretched during his life. He was so evil that legend says that he killed his brothers and some of his sons for fear they wanted to replace him as king. It was also believed that he left orders that at the time of his death his guards were to kill the members of his court along with key citizens of Jerusalem so their death might bring the crying and mourning that he knew he would not have for himself. We come to the passage where he is visited by "wise men from the East," who came looking for "the child who has been born king of the Jews." That question immediately set off alarms for Herod, for he believed he would be king for life of the Jews and the area inhabited by the Jews. The wise man had been studying the writings and knew that this birth was the fulfillment of prophecy. The baby was expected by prophecy and by those who feared God and wanted and needed his birth. Herod was not among those. Verse three says that Herod was frightened, not necessarily "all of Jerusalem." Fright in the case of Herod would lead to anger; the kind that would do something to calm that anger and remove the fear. Herod summons the chief priests and scribes in Jerusalem and asks them about this baby. They knew that to tell him that in Bethlehem would mean immediate trouble, which history tells us that Herod ordered the murder of all male children under the age of two when he realized the Magi duped him.

This is Epiphany's heartbreaking contrast: Gentile outsiders seeking Jesus while religious insiders ignore Him, foreigners traveling great distances while locals won't walk six miles to Bethlehem. Herod secretly learns when the star appeared, then deceptively sends the Magi to Bethlehem: "Search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage." He has no intention of worshiping—only eliminating a perceived threat. The Magi set out, "and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy"—not mild pleasure but ecstatic delight. Their long journey has reached its destination. "On entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage." Jesus is now in a house, suggesting time has passed since the shepherds' visit. The Magi see a toddler with His mother in ordinary circumstances—no palace, no servants, no visible royalty. Yet they kneel and worship, recognizing royalty hidden in humility, divinity wrapped in humanity, the King of kings in a peasant child. "Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh." Each gift carries symbolic weight: gold for a king, frankincense for deity (used in temple worship), myrrh for burial (foreshadowing His death). These aren't token gifts but costly treasures reflecting the worth they ascribe to this child.

The account concludes with divine intervention: "Having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road." God protects His Son by redirecting the Magi. They came seeking a king; they found the King of kings. They came to pay homage; they left transformed, taking a different road home. Encountering Jesus changes our direction, alters our path, transforms our journey. We can't meet Jesus and return the same way we came. Epiphany celebrates this transformative encounter. The Magi represent all of us who were outsiders, far from God, without the promises of Israel. Yet God revealed His Son to us, gave us signs to follow, drew us across great distances, and brought us to Jesus. When we truly encountered Him—really saw Him, really recognized Him—we knelt in worship, offered our treasures, and went home by another road, forever changed. The manifestation of Christ to the nations continues today. Jesus is still being revealed to those who seek Him, still drawing people from every nation. The star still shines—through Scripture, through creation, through believers' testimony, through the Holy Spirit's conviction. And those who follow that light, who journey toward Jesus despite obstacles, who kneel before Him and offer Him their best—they discover what the Magi discovered: overwhelming joy in finding the King.

PRAYER: King of kings and Lord of lords, thank You for manifesting Yourself not just to religious insiders but to seeking outsiders, drawing all nations to Your light; like the Magi, we have followed Your signs to find You, and we kneel in worship, offering You our treasures—our time, our resources, our very lives; help us leave by another road, transformed by encountering You, in Your holy name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This Epiphany, identify one "treasure" you've been withholding from Jesus—whether time, money, a dream, a relationship, or a part of your life you've kept for yourself—and like the Magi, open your treasure chest and offer it to the King in worship.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me! Share your treasures with God and with God's beloved people, which we know means everyone!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

We Need God's Light

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2 The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. 3 You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy; they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder. 4 For as in the day of Midian’s defeat, you have shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor. 5 Every warrior’s boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire. 6 For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 7 Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this. (Isaiah 9:2-7 NIV)

Merry Christmas, Friend! It's finally here! It seems like forever to get here, then it's here and gone almost as quickly. I say enjoy it! Every minute of it! Enjoy the music, the lights, the gifts, the joy, and enjoy especially why we even have this day! Do not let anything take away the eternal joy and peace the Lord offers even in the midst of sadness or hardship; God is still in control and God has the last word. So, a Happy and blessed Christmas Eve to you and yours.

Christmas Eve holds a sacred expectancy—the darkness before dawn, the waiting before fulfillment, the silence before the announcement. Isaiah's prophecy, spoken seven centuries before Jesus' birth, captures perfectly what we commemorate tonight: light breaking into darkness. "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned." This isn't just dim conditions or evening shadows—this is deep darkness, the darkness of oppression, despair, spiritual blindness, and death itself. The people aren't standing still in this darkness; they're walking in it, trying to navigate life without being able to see clearly where they're going or what dangers lie ahead. But then—light. Not gradual improvement or slow brightening, but sudden dawning. "Have seen" suggests the light has already come, not merely promised but present. For Isaiah's original audience facing Assyrian invasion, this was hope. For us on Christmas Eve, this is history—the light has dawned in Jesus Christ. Tonight we light candles not just for tradition's sake but as physical reminders that the Light of the World entered our darkness, that Jesus is the great light who has dawned on those of us who were stumbling in deep darkness, trying to find our way home.

Isaiah continues with the results of this light: "You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy; they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder." Light brings growth—the nation is enlarged. Light brings joy—not mild contentment but the exuberant joy of harvest time when labor bears fruit, or the elation of soldiers victorious in battle dividing the spoils. This is celebration, abundance, triumph. "For as in the day of Midian's defeat, you have shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor." The reference to Midian recalls Gideon's victory when God used 300 men to defeat a vast army, demonstrating that deliverance comes through God's power, not human strength. The imagery is liberation—yokes shattered, burdens removed, oppression ended. "Every warrior's boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire." War's implements will be destroyed because they're no longer needed. Weapons become kindling. Military uniforms are burned. Why? Because lasting peace has arrived. Tomorrow morning we'll celebrate that this peace came through the least likely means imaginable—a baby born in a stable, laid in a manger, announced to shepherds. The Prince of Peace doesn't come with armies to defeat enemies but with love to transform them.

Then Isaiah gives us the reason for this joy, liberation, and peace: "For to us a child is born, to us a son is given." The light that dawns on darkness comes in the form of a baby. "To us"—this is personal, particular, given specifically for us. "A child is born"—fully human, entering through normal birth, subject to growth and development. "A son is given"—a gift from God, not something we earned or achieved but something freely bestowed. Christmas Eve reminds us that salvation comes as a gift to be received, not a reward to be earned. Then come the magnificent titles: "And the government will be on his shoulders." This child will bear the weight of rule, will carry responsibility for establishing and maintaining God's kingdom. "And he will be called Wonderful Counselor." Wonderful—beyond our ability to fully comprehend, evoking wonder and awe. Counselor—providing perfect wisdom and guidance. "Mighty God"—possessing divine power, not merely a human king but God Himself in flesh. "Everlasting Father"—eternal, providing paternal care and protection that never ends. "Prince of Peace"—bringing and establishing shalom, the comprehensive wholeness and wellbeing that comes when everything is as it should be. These names aren't poetic exaggeration; they're accurate descriptions of who Jesus is. The baby we celebrate tomorrow morning is Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Isaiah concludes with a vision of this child's kingdom: "Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David's throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever." Notice the expansiveness—no end to His government's greatness, no end to His peace. Human kingdoms rise and fall, empires expand and collapse, rulers come and go. But this kingdom never ends. It's eternal, unshakeable, permanent. "He will reign on David's throne"—fulfilling God's promise that David's line would produce an eternal king. "Establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness"—not through violence or oppression but through justice (right relationships) and righteousness (right actions). "From that time on and forever"—beginning at His first coming, continuing through history, completed at His second coming, lasting eternally. Then comes the final declaration: "The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this." We're not responsible for making this happen through our efforts or religious performance. God's zeal—His passionate commitment, His fierce determination—will accomplish everything He's promised. Christmas Eve is the threshold moment when centuries of promise became present reality, when prophecy became person, when "the zeal of the Lord Almighty" produced a baby in Bethlehem who would grow to be the Savior of the world.

Tonight, as darkness falls on Christmas Eve, we stand where countless generations stood before—waiting for light to dawn, longing for liberation, hoping for peace. But we stand with an advantage they didn't have: we know the light has come. Jesus was born. The child was given. The Wonderful Counselor spoke words of life. The Mighty God demonstrated His power through miracles, death, and resurrection. The Everlasting Father welcomed prodigals home. The Prince of Peace reconciled us to God through His blood shed on the cross. The darkness couldn't overcome the light. Death couldn't hold Him. Sin couldn't defeat Him. And His kingdom continues to expand, His peace continues to spread, His reign continues forever. As you light candles tonight and gather for Christmas worship, remember: you're celebrating not just a historical event but a present reality. The light that dawned in Bethlehem still shines today, illuminating the darkness of our world, our lives, our hearts. The child born two thousand years ago continues to establish His eternal kingdom with justice and righteousness. And the zeal of the Lord Almighty continues to accomplish what He promised—salvation for all who receive the gift, light for all who walk in darkness, peace for all who trust the Prince of Peace.

PRAYER: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace—thank You for being the light that dawned in our darkness, the child born to us, the son given for us; as we celebrate Your birth this Christmas Eve, help us receive You not just as a baby in a manger but as the eternal King establishing Your kingdom of justice and righteousness forever; may Your light shine through us into the darkness around us, in Your holy name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This Christmas Eve, light a candle and spend a few quiet moments reflecting on which of Jesus' titles—Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, or Prince of Peace—speaks most powerfully to your current need, thanking Him that He is exactly who you need Him to be.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me. May the awe and wonder of this special eve stay with you all this season and well into the New Year!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Shepherds, Not Kings; Good News Nonetheless!

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1 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to their own towns to be registered. 4 Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. 8 In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 14 "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!" 15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." 16 So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17 When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them. (Luke 2:1-20 NRSV)

I've wondered before if it was just a Hispanic Methodist thing, or did an abundance of Chicano boys have bathrobes? I ask because the bathrobe was the costume of the day when it was time to cast shepherds and wise man for our church's Christmas pageant. It didn't matter if you were assigned to be a king, you wore the same bathrobe you wore last night as a shepherd. The only difference is that this year you get the gift wrapped cigar box, and who in our church was smoking so many cigars? Huh? Whoever it was was doing it very privately for I knew no one who smoked cigars; cigar smokers usually give themselves away! But we're in Luke's Gospel, the one commonly called the universal gospel because Luke took great measures to include the common man and woman; and his birth narrative includes the most common of the professions of the day, the shepherd, for Luke considered it very important to have in his story, those who identified more with the people than say, kings. Not that the kings were not important, but Matthew in his Gospel felt it better to share with his audience the presence and majesty of royalty. But royalty is still involved because the first verse says that it was the royal government who pushed for this census to occur. Emperor Augustus wanted the people of the world to be numbered, and of course, for taxation purposes. Every citizen was ordered to their birth town to register there. And Joseph, being of the lineage of David the King, was from Bethlehem and there he went, with his betrothed Mary, who was expecting a child. And while in Bethlehem she gave birth to a son, whom she wrapped in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger. The Creator of the universe's first bed is a box designed for animal food. This is the scandal of the incarnation: God doesn't enter the world with overwhelming power that compels worship; He enters with vulnerability that invites rejection. He doesn't demand a throne; He accepts a feeding trough. From His first moments, Jesus identifies with the displaced, the overlooked, the ones for whom there is "no room." Christmas teaches us that God doesn't reveal Himself primarily through might but through meekness, not through domination but through humility, not to the powerful who demand recognition but to the powerless who have nowhere else to turn.

God's announcement of this birth goes first not to kings or priests but to shepherds: "In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night." Shepherds occupied the bottom of the social ladder—ceremonially unclean because of their work, unable to observe all religious rituals, regarded as untrustworthy. Yet these are the first evangelists, the first to hear and share the good news. "Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified." Heaven breaks into an ordinary night shift with overwhelming glory. The shepherds' terror is understandable—they're face to face with the supernatural, with holiness, with otherness. But the angel's first words are comfort: "Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord." This announcement is packed with significance. "Good news"—the gospel begins here. "Great joy"—not mild contentment but overflowing delight. "For all the people"—not just for Israel, not just for the religiously qualified, but for everyone. "To you is born"—personal and present, not distant or theoretical. "This day"—not in the ancient past or the far future but now. "A Savior"—someone who rescues, who delivers, who saves from danger and death. "The Messiah"—the long-awaited Anointed One promised throughout Scripture. "The Lord"—divine, worthy of worship, God Himself.

The angel gives them a sign: "This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." The sign of heaven's King is a baby in a feed box. Then suddenly the lone angel is joined by a multitude: "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!'" The heavens can't contain their joy. Multitudes of angels—the "heavenly host," the armies of heaven—burst into praise. Notice what they celebrate: "Glory to God in the highest heaven"—God receives the honor, the worship, the credit for this moment. "And on earth peace"—not the absence of conflict but the reconciliation between God and humanity, the shalom that comes when Creator and creation are reunited. "Among those whom he favors"—or "among those with whom he is pleased," referring to those who receive this message with faith. Peace comes to those who welcome the Prince of Peace.

The shepherds' response is immediate and wholehearted: "When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, 'Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.' So they went with haste." They don't debate, don't question, don't delay—they go with haste to see what God has done. "And they found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger." Everything the angel said was true. The sign was accurate. God's word proved trustworthy. "When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them." The shepherds become the first preachers of the gospel, telling everyone what they've seen and heard. Those who hear are amazed—astonished, marveling at this news. "But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart." While others are amazed and the shepherds are proclaiming, Mary is quietly treasuring and pondering, storing these moments deep within, meditating on their meaning. Both responses are appropriate—public proclamation and private reflection, enthusiastic sharing and quiet contemplation. "The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them." They go back to their ordinary work transformed, filled with praise, their lives forever changed by encountering the Savior.

Christmas calls us to respond to this good news of great joy. Like the shepherds, we're invited to go with haste to encounter Jesus, to see for ourselves what God has done, to treasure and ponder these truths, and then to return to our ordinary lives glorifying and praising God, telling others what we've seen and heard. The baby in the manger is the Savior, the Messiah, the Lord—God with us, God for us, God who loves us enough to enter our world, share our humanity, and ultimately die for our sins and rise for our salvation. This is good news of great joy for all people, including you.

PRAYER: Loving Heavenly Father, thank You for sending Your Son into our world—not with overwhelming power but with vulnerable love, not to palaces but to stables, not announced to the powerful but revealed to shepherds; help us, like Mary, to treasure and ponder the wonder of the incarnation, and like the shepherds, to go with haste to encounter Jesus and return to our lives glorifying and praising You, telling others the good news of great joy, in Jesus' strong name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This Christmas, follow the shepherds' example: encounter Jesus afresh through reading and meditating on the Christmas story, then share the good news of great joy with at least one person who needs to hear that a Savior has been born for them.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me! Be like the shepherds and humbly amaze others with the awesomeness of Jesus' birth in your life.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Grace Has Appeared!

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1 For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. 12 It teaches us to say “No” to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, 13 while we wait for the blessed hope—the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, 14 who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good. (Titus 2:11-14 NIV)

One of our shared childhood Christmas memories were the bags of treats we would receive during this time of year. Nellie got hers at the place where her father worked, and I got mine at our church at the end of the Christmas program. When I was senior pastor at Trinity UMC in San Antonio I shared that memory with a dear member, Mr. Pat Itz, and he and his family took it upon themselves to buy the fruit and the candy and nuts that filled the simple brown paper bags that were handed out to kids during that special night. It brought back so many special memories of a Red Delicious apple, an orange, most were Valencias, and a handful of nuts and those ever special Christmas candies that one has to hunt down these days at World Market. Among our favorite were the ones that resembled a continuous W that is called Ribbon candy. We would walk out of the church and volunteers, some years, a volunteer Santa, would hand out the bags. We clutched the bags tightly and peeked on our way home to see what treats we had received. The real blessing, of course, was the message shared through the Christmas pageant. Once home, being the Christmas Eve present-openers, we would tear open our gifts, then open the bags and enjoy the goodness of fruit and candy. The nuts would wait until Christmas morning when Mom would get Dad's hammer and break open the various nuts, some I had not ever seen before but awaited Christmases so I could see them again. One could say this simple gift was a demonstration of grace.

Christmas celebrates grace that doesn't just speak or promise but appears. Paul writes to Titus with profound theological density about what we're really celebrating when we sing carols and exchange gifts. "For the grace of God has appeared." Grace isn't an abstract concept or theological category—it appeared. It took on flesh, breathed air, cried as a baby, grew as a child. The word "appeared" (epiphanē in Greek, from which we get "epiphany") means to make visible, to manifest, to show up in tangible form. Grace appeared in a specific time, a specific place, in a specific person: Jesus Christ born in Bethlehem. Before Jesus, people knew about God's grace through the Law, the prophets, and God's faithful dealings with Israel. But in Jesus, grace didn't just communicate from heaven—it walked on earth. This grace "offers salvation to all people." Not just to Jews, not just to the religiously qualified, not just to moral achievers, but to all people—every ethnicity, every social class, every person regardless of background, behavior, or belief. The baby in the manger is God's grace made visible, offering salvation universally. Christmas is the annual reminder that God's grace isn't a doctrine to be debated but a person to be received, not a theory to be studied but a gift to be opened.

But grace isn't just unmerited favor that overlooks sin—it's transforming power that liberates from sin. "It teaches us to say 'No' to ungodliness and worldly passions." The grace that appeared in Jesus doesn't leave us as it finds us. It teaches, it trains, it disciplines (the Greek word paideuō means to educate, instruct, train like a child). Grace is both gift and teacher, both pardon and power. It teaches us to say no—not through willpower alone or religious rules, but through the transforming influence of encountering Jesus. "Ungodliness" is living as if God doesn't exist or doesn't matter. "Worldly passions" are desires shaped by a fallen world rather than by God's kingdom. Grace teaches us to reject both—not by crushing our desires but by redirecting them toward better things, not by making us miserable but by making us holy. Then Paul gives the positive side: grace teaches us "to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age." Self-controlled—mastering our impulses rather than being mastered by them. Upright—living with integrity and justice toward others. Godly—living in reverent awareness of and obedience to God. Notice "in this present age"—not in some future perfect world, not when circumstances are ideal, but now, in the mess and complexity of real life. Christmas grace doesn't wait for better conditions to transform us; it begins the work immediately in whatever age, whatever circumstances we find ourselves.

Paul then shifts focus from present living to future hope: "while we wait for the blessed hope—the appearing of our glory and our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ." Christmas celebrates grace's first appearing; Christians await grace's second appearing. The same Jesus who came as a baby will return as conquering King. The word "appearing" is used twice—grace appeared at Christmas, and our blessed hope is the appearing of Jesus' glory. We live between the two advents, between incarnation and return, between the manger and the throne. This waiting shapes how we live now—"in this present age" we live transformed lives while anticipating the age to come. Our "blessed hope" isn't wishful thinking but confident expectation grounded in God's promises. Notice Paul's stunning description: "our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ." This isn't two persons but one—Jesus is both "our great God" and "our Savior." The baby born at Christmas is fully divine, worthy of worship, the Creator who entered His own creation. Only God can be Savior; that Jesus is Savior means Jesus is God. Christmas theology is high theology—we celebrate the incarnation of deity, the enfleshment of the eternal Word, God with us in the most literal sense possible.

Paul concludes by explaining why Jesus came: "who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good." The purpose of Christmas wasn't the manger but the cross. Jesus "gave himself for us"—voluntary, sacrificial, substitutionary. He wasn't a victim of circumstances or political intrigue; He deliberately gave Himself. The purpose? "To redeem us from all wickedness." Redemption is the language of the marketplace—buying back what was sold into slavery, paying the price to secure freedom. We were enslaved to sin, in bondage to wickedness, unable to free ourselves. Jesus paid the price—not with silver or gold but with His own blood—to purchase our freedom. "All wickedness"—not some sins, not the respectable ones, not the minor infractions, but all wickedness. Every sin, every rebellion, every failure is covered by His redemptive work. But redemption isn't just liberation from something; it's liberation for something: "to purify for himself a people that are his very own." We're not just rescued from sin's penalty; we're being cleansed from sin's pollution. God is creating a people who belong to Him, a people being purified, a people defined by their relationship to Him. And the outcome? A people "eager to do what is good." Not grudgingly obedient, not fearfully compliant, but eager—enthusiastic, zealous, passionate about goodness. Grace that saves is grace that changes, producing people who delight in doing what's right because they've been transformed from the inside out.

Christmas is ultimately about this: grace appeared in Jesus Christ to offer salvation to all people, to teach us to reject ungodliness and embrace godliness, to give us hope for His glorious return, to redeem us from wickedness, to purify us as His own people, and to make us eager to do good. When we gather around Christmas trees and sing "Joy to the World," we're celebrating theological realities with cosmic implications. The baby in the manger is God's grace made visible, offering you salvation, teaching you to live differently, promising to return in glory, redeeming you from all wickedness, purifying you as His own, and transforming your desires to align with His goodness. This is why Christmas brings joy that transcends circumstances—it's not about perfect families or ideal situations but about grace that has appeared and grace that will appear again, about a Savior who gave Himself for us and is making us into a people who are His very own.

PRAYER: Great God and Savior Jesus Christ, thank You for appearing as grace incarnate, offering salvation to all people including us; thank You for giving Yourself to redeem us from all wickedness and for purifying us as Your very own people; teach us by Your grace to say no to ungodliness and yes to self-controlled, upright, godly living as we wait with blessed hope for Your glorious appearing, in Your holy name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: Use this time to reflect on one specific area where God's grace is teaching you to say "no" to ungodliness or worldly passions and "yes" to godly living, and thank Jesus for not just saving you from sin's penalty but transforming you from the inside out.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me. Give of yourself to someone who has yet to experience the loving presence of God in their lives.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Restoration Station

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ANSWERED PRAYER: The Rev. Michael Dobbs did not have to have surgery yesterday! Doctor said not today nor in the foreseeable future! Great news and a reminder: Why do we pray? Because God answers prayer!

1 Hear us, Shepherd of Israel, you who lead Joseph like a flock. You who sit enthroned between the cherubim, shine forth 2 before Ephraim, Benjamin and Manasseh. Awaken your might; come and save us. 3 Restore us, O God; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved. 4 How long, LORD God Almighty, will your anger smolder against the prayers of your people? 5 You have fed them with the bread of tears; you have made them drink tears by the bowlful. 6 You have made us an object of derision to our neighbors, and our enemies mock us. 7 Restore us, God Almighty; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved. (Psalm 80: 1-7 NIV)

The Methodist Youth Fellowship, aka MYF, was a tremendous force in my life. God used the MYF to make me stronger in faith, and it was in MYF that I felt God's call upon my life to enter into ordained ministry. I entered the MYF when the age limit was from 12 to 25. Yes, you read that right, 25 years of age. I got married when I was 25, but not while in the MYF; the age limit had changed by then, but if you remember how you were at 25, you might have been better off not being in MYF, or around those younger than 25. For my first MYF meeting, the president of the local MYF owned and drove a 1957 Chevy Bel Air. Yes, a dream car. And all the youth group fit into it. I have a vivid memory of a carful of boys and girls of different ages coming to my house to pick me up. I don't know how many of us were in that car, but who's lawful when you're having fun with Jesus? We drove around and then came to the church, had our meeting, then drove around some more and got dropped off. Who wouldn't love MYF? I know that the prayer that we closed with impacted me was the one that followed whatever the leader offered first, "May the Lord bless you and keep you; may the Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you; may the Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace," And thanks to some MYFers in either Tennessee or Nebraska, the phrase "Christ Above All." At first I did not know it came from the Bible, but I thought it was very powerful. (Numbers 6:24-26). A study of that prayer alone would make for a great devotional, but it made for a great boost of faith for me. Nothing beats the Lord's face shining upon us, as the psalmist shares in this passage.

Psalm 80 captures the ache of waiting for God to act. A major part of Advent is being patient as we await what the Lord is preparing. The psalm begins with a desperate cry: "Hear us, Shepherd of Israel, you who lead Joseph like a flock. You who sit enthroned between the cherubim, shine forth before Ephraim, Benjamin and Manasseh. Awaken your might; come and save us." The psalmist addresses God with intimate and majestic titles—Shepherd who leads His flock, the One enthroned between the cherubim (referring to God's presence above the ark of the covenant). This is the God who guided Israel through the wilderness, who dwelt in the tabernacle and temple, who demonstrated His power through mighty acts. But now He seems distant, silent, inactive. The plea is urgent: "Awaken your might; come and save us." It's as if God is asleep while His people suffer. They need Him to shine forth, to display His power, to intervene decisively. This cry resonates with all who wait for God during dark seasons—when prayers seem unanswered, when circumstances grow worse, when God's power seems dormant. During Advent, we acknowledge this reality: waiting is hard, delay is painful, and longing for God to act is part of authentic faith.

Then comes the refrain that appears three times in this psalm: "Restore us, O God; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved." This is the heart cry of Advent—restore us. The word carries the meaning of turning back, bringing back to an original state, renewing what's been lost. Israel needs restoration from exile, from defeat, from the consequences of their own rebellion. But more fundamentally, they need God's favor restored—His face shining on them rather than being hidden. In Hebrew thought, God's shining face represents His blessing, approval, and presence. When God's face shines on His people, they experience peace, protection, and prosperity. When He hides His face, they experience abandonment, vulnerability, and despair. The Aaronic blessing captures this beautifully: "The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you" (Numbers 6:24-25). The psalmist isn't asking for political solutions or military victories as ends in themselves—he's asking for God's presence, God's favor, God's face turned toward them. That's what will save them. During Advent, we wait not just for Christmas Day but for the full restoration only God can bring—the healing of our brokenness, the mending of our fractured world, the return of God's favor, the shining of His face upon us.

But the psalm doesn't hide from painful reality. After the plea for restoration comes a lament: "How long, Lord God Almighty, will your anger smolder against the prayers of your people?" This is brutally honest worship. The psalmist acknowledges that God's anger is real and justified—Israel's suffering isn't random bad luck but divine discipline for their sin. Yet he questions how long it will continue. Even prayers themselves seem to provoke God's anger. Have you ever felt that way? That your prayers bounce off the ceiling, that God is not just silent but actively displeased? The psalmist continues: "You have fed them with the bread of tears; you have made them drink tears by the bowlful. You have made us an object of derision to our neighbors, and our enemies mock us." God Himself has given them tears instead of bread, sorrow instead of joy. Their suffering has become a spectacle—neighbors ridicule them, enemies mock them. Where is your God now? Why doesn't He help you? The pain is amplified by the fact that God's people become a joke, and by extension, God's name is mocked. This is the raw reality of waiting for restoration that hasn't yet come—the tears, the mockery, the sense that even God is against you.

Yet the refrain returns: "Restore us, God Almighty; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved." Despite the pain, despite the tears, despite the mockery, despite even God's apparent anger—the cry remains. Restore us. This isn't the prayer of those who have all the answers or who understand God's timing. It's the prayer of those who have nowhere else to turn, no other hope, no alternative savior. It's the prayer that refuses to give up even when everything suggests giving up would be reasonable. This is Advent faith—not triumphant certainty but persistent pleading, not comfortable confidence but desperate clinging, not easy answers but repeated cries for the one thing that matters: God's presence, God's favor, God's face shining upon us. The psalm teaches us that honest lament is not the opposite of faith but often its purest expression. To keep crying "restore us" when restoration hasn't come, to keep asking God to shine His face when He seems to be hiding it—this is faith that endures through the darkness.

Advent proclaims that God answered this ancient cry in a way beyond what the psalmist could imagine. God's face ultimately shone upon us in Jesus Christ—the light of the world, the glory of God in human flesh, Immanuel, God with us. When Jesus was born in Bethlehem, God's face was literally shining on us in the face of a baby. The restoration we long for began with His first coming and will be completed at His second coming. We live between the "already" and the "not yet"—restoration has begun but isn't finished, God's face has shone in Christ but we still wait for the fullness of His glory to be revealed. During Advent, we pray with the psalmist "Restore us, O God" while also thanking God that in Jesus, He has already begun the restoration we desperately need. We wait not in despair but in hope, not wondering if God will answer but confident that He has answered in Christ and will answer fully when Christ returns.

PRAYER: Shepherd of Israel, hear our cry for restoration—we bring You our tears, our weariness from waiting, our longing for Your face to shine upon us; thank You that in Jesus You have already begun the restoration we seek, shining Your face upon us in His birth, life, death, and resurrection; help us wait with faith that persists through darkness, trusting that what You began in Bethlehem You will complete when Christ returns, in His name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: Write your own honest "How long, O Lord?" prayer to God about an area where you're waiting for restoration, then follow it with the refrain "Restore us, O God; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved," practicing faith that persists even through lament.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me. Make others' lives matter by sharing the joy of Jesus with them.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

At Last! Delivery of the Expected!

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1 Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, 2 which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures, 3 the gospel concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh 4 and was declared to be Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord, 5 through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name, 6 including yourselves who are called to belong to Jesus Christ, 7 To all God's beloved in Rome, who are called to be saints: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. (Romans 1: 1-7 NRSV)

Happy Tuesday, Friend! As we pray today, please offer a thank you prayer for the recovery that Ms. Sylvia Gaytan is making thanks to the new medications she was given. We pray for her full recovery, as well as for all who has asked prayers for us.

Are you old enough to remember a world without microwave ovens? I am. I remember talk of them being invented; then I remember being shocked at the sticker price when they did. Says the man who paid over $600 for our first VHS VCR (Kids ask grandma or grandpa to decipher those initials!). And by the way, the word oven in the name is kinda misleading; you can't very well microwave a turkey; or can you? But the thing about the microwave is that it brought another dimension to the Instant Gratification society that we have become. The microwave could heat up cold coffee and make popcorn in minutes! Beyond that, well, I'll wait. I do have to say that we bought our first microwave when we were living in San Antonio at the short stay of a Marshall Fields store in North Star Mall, for about $39. And that microwave lasted us 30 years!! Yes, we cried on that sad morning. And then we got Amazon.com that most days can deliver needless things overnight! (Yes, i'm old enough to remember actually going to a store, buying something and bringing it home right away!). Okay, enough of this old man ranting and raving. The Apostle Paul in writing to the people in the capital city of the known world is talking about the arrival at long last, of the promises gospel, and that, in Paul's opinion and mine, is a BIG DEAL!!

Advent is a season of fulfilled promises, and Paul's opening to Romans gives us a magnificent summary of what we're celebrating. Paul identifies himself as "a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God." Notice how Paul defines his entire identity and purpose around the gospel—the good news about Jesus. He's been set apart specifically for this message, and everything else in his life is secondary to this calling. The word "gospel" means good news, but Paul immediately clarifies that this isn't new news—it's ancient news finally fulfilled: "the gospel he promised beforehand through his prophets in the Holy Scriptures." The Christmas story didn't begin in Bethlehem; it began in Genesis 3:15 when God promised that the woman's seed would crush the serpent's head. It continued through Abraham's promise of blessing to all nations, through David's promise of an eternal throne, through Isaiah's promise of a virgin-born child called Wonderful Counselor and Prince of Peace. Every sacrifice in the temple, every prophecy spoken, every promise given was pointing forward to this moment. During Advent, we celebrate that God kept promises made centuries before, that the story arc of Scripture finds its climax in Jesus, and that our God is utterly faithful to His word.

Paul then describes the content of this gospel: it's "regarding his Son." Everything centers on Jesus—not a philosophy, not a moral system, not a set of rules, but a person. Paul gives us two crucial aspects of who this Son is: "who as to his earthly life was a descendant of David." Jesus has a real human genealogy, a family tree that goes back to David, the great king of Israel. He wasn't a phantom or a spirit appearing to look human—He was born into a specific family, in a specific time, in a specific place. The baby in the manger had Mary's eyes and bore the genetic heritage of Jesse, David, and Abraham. This matters because for Jesus to save humanity, He had to be fully human, to represent us before God, to experience our temptations and limitations. Advent celebrates the incarnation—God becoming flesh, entering into the full human experience, not exempting Himself from anything we endure. But Paul doesn't stop there: Jesus "through the Spirit of holiness was appointed the Son of God in power by his resurrection from the dead." Jesus wasn't just human; He was and is fully divine. The resurrection declared with power what was always true—this is the Son of God. The baby we celebrate at Christmas is the same Jesus who conquered death, who rose victorious, who now sits at the Father's right hand. Advent prepares us to celebrate not just a birth but a life, death, and resurrection that changes everything.

Paul then gives Jesus His full title: "Jesus Christ our Lord." Each word is packed with meaning. "Jesus" is His human name, the name the angel told Joseph to give Him, meaning "the Lord saves." "Christ" is His title—the Anointed One, the Messiah promised throughout the Old Testament, the King who would establish God's eternal kingdom. "Our Lord" declares His authority and our allegiance—He's not just a historical figure or a moral teacher but the one who has rightful claim to rule our lives. Then Paul describes what this gospel accomplishes: "Through him we have received grace and apostleship to call all the Gentiles to the obedience that comes from faith for his name's sake." The gospel isn't just information to believe; it's an invitation to respond. Grace empowers Paul's mission, and that mission is to call all nations (Gentiles) to obedience that flows from faith. This isn't obedience to earn salvation but obedience that comes from faith—the transformed life that results from trusting Jesus. The Christmas story has always been for all nations. The angels announced good news "for all the people." The Magi came from the east—Gentiles seeking the Jewish Messiah. Jesus came not just for Israel but to be the light of the world, the Savior of all who would believe.

Paul concludes this magnificent opening by addressing his readers: "To all in Rome who are loved by God and called to be his holy people: Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ." Notice the lavish identity Paul gives these believers: loved by God and called to be His holy people. Not because of what they've accomplished but because of what God has done. During Advent, we remember that the gospel is fundamentally about what God has done, not what we must do. God promised. God sent His Son. God became human. God lived a perfect life. God died for our sins. God rose from the dead. God offers grace and peace. The appropriate human response is faith—trusting in what God has done rather than trying to earn what can never be earned. Paul's greeting, "Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ," captures the essence of the gospel. Grace—the unmerited favor of God given to those who deserve judgment. Peace—the reconciliation between holy God and sinful humanity accomplished through Christ's death and resurrection. Both grace and peace come from the same source: God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Not from our efforts, not from our religious performance, not from our moral improvement, but from God. This Advent, as we prepare to celebrate Christ's first coming and anticipate His second coming, we remember that the gospel is God's promise kept, God's Son sent, God's love demonstrated, God's grace offered, and God's peace given to all who believe.

PRAYER: Loving Heavenly Father, thank You for keeping every promise, for sending Your Son who was fully human and fully divine, for offering grace and peace through Jesus Christ our Lord—during this Advent season, help us rest in what You have done rather than striving to earn what You freely give, and help us respond to Your gospel with the obedience that comes from faith, in Jesus' strong name, amen.

Have a great and blesssed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This Advent, reflect on one specific way the gospel—God's promise kept in Jesus Christ—transforms how you live this week, moving from striving to earn God's favor to resting in His grace while responding with faith-fueled obedience.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God, and you matter to me! Make it a point to deliver the good news to someone who may not yet know it!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

God With You. And With Me

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18 This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about : His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. 19 Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. 20 But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” 22 All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: 23 “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). 24 When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. 25 But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus. (Matthew 1:18-25 NIV)

You and I have a Dream Director, something way in the recesses of our brain who nightly chooses and sends out what it is we are to dream that night. I usually complain to Nellie my wife, that my Dream Director has me working each night. Out of seven nights per week, five or more of the dreams I have, I find myself in a church working. Yes, it was what I dedicated almost fifty years of my life and so it would seem normal, but not necessary, to continue to work in the Lord's House. I sometimes preach, sometimes drive the church van, or assign people to rooms or classes, and so many other things I can't remember them all. And most mornings I wake up tired from the work that I had to do during the dream. And sometimes the Dream Director hands the night's dream to God, where God can share with us something we need to hear. I truly believe this. Do you? Of course, we are called to discern the dream with the help of the Holy Spirit so that we don't wind up in jail or in the newspaper or nightly news for having done something we should have discerned. Such is what happens to Joseph. Joseph was a good man, betrothed to Mary (a legally binding status in the Jewish faith); she had taken his last name and from that point on, she was the only one who could decide to divorce for this was a year-long look-see in which the woman could decide, "You know what? I don't think I want this man for my husband," and she could end the marriage. The man, on the other hand, could only end the betrothal by an act of unfaithfulness, which in Joseph's case, he could have made. The danger was that should he do that, Mary could have been brought up on a death penalty charge, so the story says that "He had in mind to divorce her quietly." Joseph loved Mary and did not want her to die, but he also did not want to father someone else's child. Is this any way to start a Christmas story? —not in a moment of clarity but in crushing confusion, not with angelic announcements but with shattered dreams, not with celebration but with the decision of what to do when everything falls apart.

Joseph's response reveals his character: "Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly." Joseph was "faithful to the law"—righteous, observant, serious about God's commands. The law said Mary should be punished, perhaps even executed. But Joseph "did not want to expose her to public disgrace." Here's a man caught between justice and mercy, between religious obligation and compassionate love, between what the law required and what his heart desired. He chose the path of quiet mercy—divorcing her privately to protect her from public shame while still maintaining his own integrity. This wasn't weakness but strength, not compromise but costly grace. Then God intervened: "But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, 'Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.'" Notice the angel addresses Joseph's fear first: "do not be afraid." Joseph was terrified—of scandal, of being deceived, of doing the wrong thing, of the unknown. The angel explains the impossible: Mary's pregnancy is from the Holy Spirit. During Advent, we celebrate that God's greatest work often looks scandalous, unexplainable, and impossible from a human perspective.

The angel continues with the child's mission: "She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." The name "Jesus" (Yeshua in Hebrew) means "The Lord saves." This baby's purpose isn't political liberation from Rome or economic prosperity or national restoration—it's salvation from sin, the deeper bondage that enslaves every human heart. Matthew then adds prophetic context: "All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: 'The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel' (which means 'God with us')." This quote from Isaiah 7:14 reveals the stunning reality: this isn't just a miraculous birth or even a specially anointed prophet. This is God Himself entering human history, taking on flesh, becoming one of us. Immanuel—God with us. Not God far away observing us, not God occasionally visiting us, but God permanently with us, sharing our humanity, experiencing our limitations, knowing our temptations, bearing our sorrows. The virgin birth isn't just about biological miracle; it's about theological necessity. For Jesus to save us from sin, He had to be fully human (to represent us) and fully divine (to accomplish what no mere human could). Advent celebrates the incarnation—the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us.

Joseph's response is instructive: "When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus." Joseph woke up and obeyed. No more questions, no demands for additional proof, no negotiating with God. He took Mary as his wife, accepting the scandal, the whispers, the questions, the cost. He protected Mary through her pregnancy. He gave the baby the name the angel commanded. Joseph becomes a model of obedient faith—doing what God says even when it's costly, confusing, and countercultural. His obedience meant raising a child who wasn't biologically his, accepting a calling that would forever mark him as the husband of that woman who got pregnant before marriage, and protecting the Messiah through His vulnerable infant years. During Advent, we're invited into Joseph's kind of faith—trusting God even when we don't understand, obeying even when it's costly, and embracing the scandal that God works in unexpected, unconventional, miraculous ways. The call of Advent isn't just to celebrate that God came but to make room for Him to come into our lives now—with all the disruption, reorientation, and transformation that His presence requires.

PRAYER: Immanuel, God with us, thank You for entering our broken world not with fanfare and power but through the scandal of a virgin birth, the faith of a righteous man willing to obey despite confusion, and the miracle of the Word becoming flesh—during this Advent season, help us, like Joseph, to trust and obey even when Your ways don't match our expectations, making room for You to be born anew in our hearts, in Your holy name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This Advent, practice Joseph's obedient faith by saying yes to something God is asking of you that seems costly, confusing, or countercultural, trusting that His presence with you (Immanuel) is worth whatever disruption or reorientation He requires.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me. Make God real for others by the way God is real in you!

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

The God of Neverending Faith

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1 Praise the LORD.Praise the LORD, my soul. 2 I will praise the LORD all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live. 3 Do not put your trust in princes, in human beings, who cannot save. 4 When their spirit departs, they return to the ground; on that very day their plans come to nothing. 5 Blessed are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD their God. 6 He is the Maker of heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them— he remains faithful forever. 7 He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets prisoners free, 8 the LORD gives sight to the blind, the LORD lifts up those who are bowed down, the LORD loves the righteous. 9 The LORD watches over the foreigner and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked. 10 The LORD reigns forever, your God, O Zion, for all generations. Praise the LORD. (Psalm 146 NIV)

There’s probably a photograph somewhere in your home—or in your parents’ home—likely black-and-white or sepia-toned, maybe even set in an oval frame. It shows a couple who means something to you and your family. They may be your great- (times however many) grandparents. That photo is evidence that they lived, even though you never met them. You might not even know their names. Still, they were real, and they remain real in the memories and hearts of those who once knew them. To doubt their existence serves no purpose. A recent video showed a little girl of about maybe three who as she sees a video of her parent's wedding exclaims, "You had a wedding without me?? I'm a part of this family, and you didn't include me!?" It's hilarious as her parents are laughing and she's quite distraught about the oversight of excluding her!

And if the photo happens to be of your parents on their wedding day, then the proof of their existence is you—because from them came you.

With that in mind, I ask: Who made God real to you? And I hope that God is, indeed, real to you, or at least real for you.

I am blessed that many people helped make God real in my life—my parents, my paternal grandmother, my pastors, my Sunday school teachers, and my friends in youth group. I have never met God in person, but God has revealed Himself to me in more ways than I can count.

Those who come to recognize and accept the reality of God often find their outlook on life becoming more positive and secure. Such was the case for David, the king, whose life was rooted entirely in the knowledge and reality of God. As we examine this psalm we get solid evidence of his faith and joy in God. Advent is the time we prepare for the coming of a king. The psalmist begins with a deeply personal declaration: "Praise the Lord, my soul." This isn't corporate worship or public performance—it's an internal conversation, the soul instructing itself to praise. Sometimes we need to preach to ourselves, to command our own souls to worship when feelings lag behind truth. The commitment is total and lifelong: "I will praise the Lord all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live." Not just in good seasons or when things go well, not just in youth or when praise comes easily, but all my life, as long as I live. This is the decision to make praise a defining characteristic of existence, to let worship be the soundtrack of life from beginning to end. During Advent, we reflect on why this God—and only this God—deserves such unwavering devotion, remembering that He proved His worthiness by entering our world as a vulnerable baby.

The psalm then issues a warning about misplaced trust: "Do not put your trust in princes, in human beings, who cannot save. When their spirit departs, they return to the ground; on that very day their plans come to nothing." Princes represent the pinnacle of human power—wealthy, influential, connected, resourceful. Yet they cannot save. They're mortal, limited, temporary. When they die, their grand schemes evaporate. The policies they championed, the systems they built, the promises they made—all can vanish in a single generation. Mary and Joseph knew this reality—living under the oppressive rule of Herod and Caesar, powerful men who could not ultimately save anyone, whose kingdoms would crumble into dust. Then comes the contrast: "Blessed are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God." The God of Jacob—the one who wrestled with a scheming, flawed, struggling man and blessed him anyway—this is the God worthy of our trust. He specializes in working with imperfect people in impossible situations. During Advent, we celebrate that this God didn't send a prince to save us but became a baby born to peasants, entering the world not through power but through vulnerability, establishing a kingdom that would outlast every earthly empire.

The psalmist then catalogs why the Lord is trustworthy: "He is the Maker of heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them—he remains faithful forever." Start with credentials: Creator of all that exists. The one who spoke galaxies into being, who set planets in motion, who designed DNA and ecosystems—this God has the power to keep His promises. But power without faithfulness is tyranny. What makes God trustworthy isn't just His might but His character: "he remains faithful forever." Not faithful until He gets bored, not faithful until we fail Him, not faithful until something better comes along—faithful forever. Then the psalm describes what this faithful God does: "He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The Lord sets prisoners free, the Lord gives sight to the blind, the Lord lifts up those who are bowed down, the Lord loves the righteous." This is precisely what Mary sang about in her Magnificat when she learned she would bear the Messiah: God scattering the proud, bringing down rulers, lifting up the humble, filling the hungry with good things. This catalog of God's actions became Jesus' mission statement. When asked if He was the Messiah, Jesus pointed to these very signs: the blind see, prisoners are freed, the oppressed are lifted up, good news comes to the poor. Advent celebrates that God doesn't just promise to help the vulnerable—He became vulnerable Himself, born in a stable, laid in a manger, a refugee fleeing violence, identifying completely with those who suffer.

The psalm continues: "The Lord watches over the foreigner and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked." Three categories appear repeatedly in Scripture as tests of a society's righteousness: foreigners, orphans, and widows—those without citizenship status, parental protection, or spousal provision. God watches over them personally, sustains them directly. The Christmas story is filled with precisely these people: Mary, a young woman of no status; Joseph, a carpenter of no influence; shepherds, among the lowest social class; Magi, foreigners from the east. God revealed the Messiah's birth not to princes in palaces but to the marginalized and the outsiders. Meanwhile, God actively frustrates the wicked—Herod's attempt to kill the Christ child failed, Caesar's empire eventually crumbled, and the powers that crucified Jesus couldn't keep Him in the tomb. God isn't neutral; He takes sides. The psalm concludes with a triumphant declaration: "The Lord reigns forever, your God, O Zion, for all generations. Praise the Lord." Human rulers come and go. Empires rise and fall. Political systems shift and change. But the Lord reigns forever. The baby born in Bethlehem grew to announce, "My kingdom is not of this world." His reign began in a manger and will never end. Angels sang "Glory to God in the highest" because they recognized that this child would establish an everlasting kingdom where the hungry are fed, prisoners are freed, the blind see, and the bowed down are lifted up. This is why Advent stirs such hope—we're not waiting for a better politician or a more just system, but for the King who reigns forever and whose kingdom will have no end.

This psalm challenges us during Advent to examine where we've placed our ultimate trust. Are we relying on political solutions, economic security, institutional power, or personal connections to provide what only God can give? Are we aligning ourselves with God's priorities—caring for the oppressed, feeding the hungry, welcoming foreigners, protecting orphans and widows? Or have we accommodated ourselves to systems that do the opposite? The call to praise isn't just about singing songs; it's about living in alignment with the character of the God we worship. If we praise the God who feeds the hungry, we must feed the hungry. If we worship the God who lifts up the bowed down, we must participate in that lifting. If we trust the God who watches over foreigners, we must welcome the stranger. Advent reminds us that the King we're celebrating didn't stay in heaven's comfort but came to earth's chaos, didn't remain in glory but embraced humility, didn't protect His power but gave His life. Praise that doesn't shape priorities isn't true praise—it's just religious noise. As we light Advent candles and sing carols about the baby in the manger, we're declaring our allegiance to the King who reigns forever and calling ourselves to live as citizens of His upside-down kingdom where the last are first, the weak are strong, and God sides with the vulnerable.

PRAYER: Lord, our faithful Creator who never fails, thank You for not sending a distant prince to save us but for becoming Emmanuel—God with us—born as a vulnerable baby to show us that Your kingdom operates by different rules than earthly powers; teach us to trust You above all earthly rulers and to align our lives with Your heart for the oppressed, the hungry, the imprisoned, the blind, the bowed down, the foreigner, the orphan, and the widow—may our Advent praise be more than words but a life that reflects Your character, in Jesus' name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: his Advent, move beyond singing God's praise to embodying it by taking one concrete action that reflects the character of the King born in Bethlehem—whether feeding the hungry, advocating for the oppressed, or welcoming the foreigner in your community, living as a citizen of His eternal kingdom.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God, and you matter to me! Help others believe in God by the way you share life with them.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Life Comes When God Shows Up

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1 The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, 2 it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy. The glory of Lebanon will be given to it, the splendor of Carmel and Sharon; they will see the glory of the LORD, the splendor of our God. 3 Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; 4 say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.” 5 Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. 6 Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy. Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. 7 The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs. In the haunts where jackals once lay, grass and reeds and papyrus will grow. 8 And a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness; it will be for those who walk on that Way. The unclean will not journey on it; wicked fools will not go about on it. 9 No lion will be there, nor any ravenous beast; they will not be found there. But only the redeemed will walk there, 10 and those the LORD has rescued will return. They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away. (Isaiah 35:1-10 NIV)

Several times in my academic life, I had the opportunity to drive past the billboards that advertised Palo Duro Canyon as The Grand Canyon of Texas. I laughed the first time I saw it disbelieving such a claim. Mind you, I had never seen either, but at least I had seen pictures of the Grand Canyon. And off I drove. It was not until I was married and had a family did I brave a drive into the most amazing and awe-dropping canyon in Texas that is Palo Duro. We drove there in a borrowed RV that Nellie's brother insisted we take, and our stay there was an incredible experience. It had just rained in the canyon and the flowers and all vegetation shouted praise to God in that special place of Texas. There is so many blessings in rain especially when it visits the parched lands we know and love.

Advent is a season of hope; the coming of something awesome and beautiful, and here the prophet Isaiah, blessed by his calling from God to share the unseen that would be seen someday, Isaiah paints a vision of impossible transformation that captures the essence of what we're waiting for. "The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom." Deserts don't bloom. Parched land doesn't produce joy. Wilderness doesn't break into singing. Yet Isaiah prophesies exactly this—the barren becoming fruitful, the dead becoming alive, the hopeless becoming joyful. This isn't gradual improvement or slow recovery; it's explosive transformation: "Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy." The crocus is one of the first flowers to appear after winter, pushing through frozen ground to announce spring's arrival. Isaiah uses this image to describe what happens when God intervenes—life erupts where death reigned, beauty emerges from barrenness, joy explodes from sorrow. "The glory of Lebanon will be given to it, the splendor of Carmel and Sharon; they will see the glory of the Lord, the splendor of our God." The lush forests of Lebanon, the fertile slopes of Carmel, the beautiful plain of Sharon—all symbols of natural abundance—will pale in comparison to the glory revealed when God restores His creation. During Advent, we celebrate that this transformation began with a baby born in Bethlehem, and we await its completion when He returns.

Isaiah then shifts to addressing people in the midst of waiting: "Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, 'Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.'" This is pastoral care in the wilderness—encouraging those whose hands are too weak to hold on, whose knees are buckling under the weight of waiting, whose hearts are gripped by fear. The word to them is direct and powerful: "Be strong, do not fear." Not because circumstances aren't dire, not because the waiting isn't long, but because "your God will come." Notice the personal pronoun—not "a god" or "the God" but "your God." The One coming belongs to you, knows you, loves you, and is coming specifically to save you. The mention of "vengeance" and "divine retribution" isn't about vindictive rage but about justice finally being done, wrongs being made right, oppressors being stopped, and the vulnerable being vindicated. God comes both to judge evil and to save His people—these aren't contradictory but complementary. The same coming that brings terror to oppressors brings salvation to the oppressed. During Advent, we remember that Jesus' first coming emphasized salvation; His second coming will complete both salvation and justice.

Isaiah then describes what happens when God arrives: "Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy." This is precisely what Jesus pointed to when John the Baptist questioned whether He was really the Messiah. Jesus was fulfilling Isaiah's prophecy—the Messianic age had dawned, and the signs were unmistakable. But notice that healing is just the beginning: "Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs." Not just a trickle but a gush, not just moisture but streams, not just dampness but pools and springs. Where there was only death-dealing heat, there will be life-giving water. "In the haunts of jackals, where each lay, grass and reeds and papyrus will grow." Even the places where wild animals made their dens—dangerous, uninhabitable places—will become gardens. Nothing is beyond God's transforming power. No desert too barren, no wilderness too wild, no life too broken.

The passage culminates with a vision of the highway of holiness: "And a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness; it will be for those who walk on that Way. The unclean will not journey on it; wicked fools will not go about on it." This isn't an exclusive club for the already-perfect but a protected path for God's redeemed people. "No lion will be there, nor any ravenous beast; they will not be found there. But only the redeemed will walk there, and those the Lord has rescued will return." The dangers that threaten pilgrims—predators, bandits, wrong turns—are removed. This is a safe passage home for those who have been in exile, lost, or captivity. "They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away." This is the destination: Zion, the city of God, entered not with exhaustion but with singing, not with resignation but with joy. And this joy isn't temporary or fragile—it's everlasting, crowning their heads like a permanent diadem. Gladness and joy don't just meet them; they overtake them, pursuing and capturing them. Meanwhile, sorrow and sighing—the constant companions of life in a broken world—flee away, unable to survive in the presence of God's glory. This is the world we're waiting for during Advent, the reality inaugurated in Jesus' first coming and to be completed in His return—deserts blooming, blind seeing, lame leaping, captives freed, exiles returning home, and everlasting joy replacing every sorrow.

PRAYER: God of impossible transformation, thank You for the promise that deserts will bloom, the blind will see, captives will be freed, and everlasting joy will replace sorrow—during this Advent, strengthen our feeble hands and fearful hearts as we wait for the full arrival of Your kingdom, in Jesus' name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: This Advent, look for one "desert" area in your life or community and ask God to show you a sign of His transforming work—a small bloom of hope, a trickle of living water, a glimpse of the coming kingdom.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me! Be the life that God wants people to have; share a smile and hope with those in need.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.

Patience Is a Virtue, But I Don't Have the Time...

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7 Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. 8 You also must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near. 9 Beloved, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors! 10 As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. (James 5:7-10 NRSV) Patience is on the big list of the fruits of the Holy Spirit. It's fourth on that list. So, we can say it's a big deal. As I'm typing this I'm thinking of the situations and settings where patience is just missing. I think of the way some Texas drivers drive. And the old joke about "If you took all the cars in the world and lined them all up in one line, some idiot from Houston would stil be tryinig to pass them!" I think about a groom at the altar as he awaits his bride to make the march to him. I think about moms about to deliver their firstborn and their husbands and grandparents. And I always think about the song by the group The Talking Heads, No Compassion that says, "They say that patience is a virtue, but I don't have the time," a reflection on the perception of reality of patience in modern day life.

The patience here is what Paul is asking believers have as they await the coming of the Lord. Paul's once urgent message about Jesus coming soon, had changed as the days, weeks, months, and years made people wonder, "Where is Jesus?" And more so as more and more loved ones died at the hands of the government persecution and execution of believers. "Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord." The word "therefore" points back to the preceding verses where James has been addressing injustice, oppression, and the suffering of the righteous. His counsel to those enduring hardship isn't "fight back" or "demand your rights" or "take matters into your own hands." It's "be patient." This isn't passive resignation but active, expectant waiting rooted in confidence that the Lord is coming. The Greek word for "patient" (makrothymeō) literally means "long-tempered"—the opposite of short-tempered. It's the capacity to endure difficult circumstances without losing hope, to wait through delays without giving up, to suffer injustice without seeking revenge. James addresses his readers as "beloved"—a tender reminder that they're loved by God even when circumstances suggest otherwise. During Advent, we practice this patience, remembering that God's timing isn't our timing, that His delays are purposeful, and that waiting itself is formative.

James then offers a powerful metaphor: "The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains." In Israel's agricultural calendar, the early rains came in October/November to soften the ground for plowing and planting, while the late rains came in March/April to bring the crops to maturity before harvest. Between these rains was a long season of waiting—months when the farmer could do nothing but trust that the seed was germinating underground, that roots were developing, that growth was happening even when nothing was visible. The farmer's patience isn't passive; it's grounded in knowledge of how seeds grow and confidence that rain will come. Similarly, our Advent waiting is informed by knowledge of what God has promised and confidence that He keeps His word. "You also must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near." The command to "strengthen your hearts" suggests that patience requires active effort—we must fortify ourselves against doubt, discouragement, and despair. We strengthen our hearts by remembering God's faithfulness, rehearsing His promises, and encouraging one another. The motivation is clear: "the coming of the Lord is near." This wasn't just for James' original readers; every generation lives in the reality that Christ's return is imminent, that history is moving toward its appointed conclusion, that our waiting has a definite end.

James then addresses a danger that emerges during long seasons of waiting: "Beloved, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors!" When we're suffering and waiting feels endless, we become irritable, critical, and quick to find fault with fellow believers. Waiting reveals character flaws we might otherwise keep hidden. James warns against grumbling—the bitter complaining that erodes community and reveals hearts that have stopped trusting God's goodness. The word "grumble" (stenazō) can also mean "sigh" or "groan"—it's the internal frustration that finds expression in criticism of others. James' warning is sobering: if we judge our brothers and sisters, we'll be judged. The Judge is standing at the doors—not far away or delayed, but right at the threshold, about to enter. This should make us take seriously how we treat one another during seasons of difficulty. Our impatience with each other reveals our impatience with God. Our criticism of fellow believers often masks our disappointment with God's timing.

James concludes with a call to remember exemplars of faithful endurance: "As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord." The prophets experienced rejection, persecution, imprisonment, and martyrdom. They proclaimed God's word faithfully even when it was ignored, mocked, or violently opposed. They waited for promises to be fulfilled—promises they often didn't see in their lifetimes. Yet they remained faithful. Their patience wasn't naive optimism but battle-tested endurance forged through suffering. They're examples not because their waiting was easy but because they kept going when it was hard. During Advent, we join a long line of faithful waiters—Abraham waiting for a son, Moses waiting to enter the Promised Land, the exiles waiting to return home, the prophets waiting for the Messiah, the disciples waiting for the Spirit, the early church waiting for Christ's return. We're part of this great cloud of witnesses who have learned that God is worth waiting for, that His promises are trustworthy, and that patient endurance produces character, hope, and ultimately joy. The season of Advent trains us for the larger reality of Christian life—we're people who live between the advents, who have seen Christ come once and await His coming again, who experience the kingdom's arrival while longing for its fullness, who know the end of the story while still living in the middle chapters. Our waiting isn't empty or meaningless; it's purposeful, formative, and certain to end when the Lord returns.

PRAYER: Lord, give us patient hearts to wait well for Your coming, strengthen us against discouragement and grumbling, and help us remember the prophets who endured suffering while trusting Your promises—teach us that waiting for You is never wasted time but the very process through which You form us into Your likeness, in Jesus' name, amen.

Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: When you feel impatient with God's timing or tempted to grumble against others, pause and ask God what He might be growing in you during this season of waiting that couldn't develop any other way, trusting that like the farmer's crop, spiritual maturity requires both early and late rains.

I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me. Show others patience in how you live your life trusting in the Lord.

Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.