Second Sunday of Advent, Year !. December 7, 2025
Isaiah 11:1-10, Romans 15:4-13, Matthew 3:1-12
Rev. Misa Furumoto
Today is the Second Sunday of Advent. Christmas is approaching quickly, and at this busy time of year many of us feel as though time is running ahead of us. Advent is meant to be a season of waiting—but in reality, we are the ones begging time to wait for us.
And yet, it is precisely now that we are invited to quiet our hearts and listen to God’s word more carefully. In today’s Gospel, John the Baptist appears and cries out, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Matthew uses the phrase “the kingdom of heaven,” while Luke says “the kingdom of God.” Both speak of the same reality: a world in which God, not human beings, reigns, and where God’s peace and love fill all things.
This kingdom has a double meaning. It has already begun with the birth of Jesus Christ, and yet we still await its fullness at the end of time. Advent therefore holds together two horizons: the joy of Christmas and the hope of the Last Day. And the “Last Day” can mean both the final day of this world when Christ returns, and the final day of our earthly lives—a day each of us will one day meet.
For this reason, Advent readings can feel complex. Preparing for Christmas is joyful and festive; preparing for the Last Day can feel solemn or even frightening. John’s stern warning about judgment only reinforces that feeling.
But is the end truly something to fear? There is a popular Japanese band named SEKAI NO OWARI, which means “The End of the World.” Their leader once explained, “We chose the name because we believe that the end of the world is also the beginning of a new one.” They see endings not simply as destruction, but as a reset—an opening for something new to be created. A symbol of rebirth. They may not be Christians, but their insight resonates deeply with the Bible’s message.
In our Old Testament reading from Isaiah 11, we hear a breathtaking vision of what the kingdom of heaven looks like when it comes in its fullness:
“The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid… and a little child shall lead them.”
It sounds almost like a fairy tale or a scene from a Disney film. Especially today, when we hear of bear attacks so often, this vision feels impossible. And yet Scripture tells us: this is what will be.
This is a picture of the world as God created it to be—the harmony of Eden before sin entered—and the world God invites us to hope for even now.
Isaiah then speaks of a shoot coming forth from the stump of Jesse—Jesse, the father of King David. But Jesse also carries the bloodline of Ruth, a Gentile woman who chose to follow her mother-in-law Naomi to Bethlehem. Through this, God shows that the Messiah has Gentile roots. God’s salvation is not limited to one people. Christ is the Savior for all nations.
Paul confirms this in Romans: “The root of Jesse shall come, the one who rises to rule the Gentiles; in him the Gentiles shall hope.”
Yet in Jesus’ time, many—including Pharisees and Sadducees—believed that only pure descendants of Abraham could be saved. They despised Samaritans for their mixed ancestry. John the Baptist rebukes this false confidence, insisting that what matters is not bloodline but the heart. And Jesus came to proclaim that very truth.
So Advent is not simply a season of waiting. It is a season of hopeful transformation: The Savior has already come. The kingdom has already begun. And we are invited to take part in its unfolding.
The vision of a child playing beside a wild animal, of people of every nation gathered without boundaries or fear—this is not fantasy. It has already started. We see glimpses of it wherever reconciliation happens, wherever kindness overcomes hatred, wherever someone chooses peace over violence or welcome over exclusion.
Advent is the time to look toward Christmas with joy, but also to open our eyes to the small places where God’s kingdom is already breaking in. And it is the time to ask:
How can I embody that kingdom today?
Perhaps through a word of encouragement, an act of forgiveness, or a willingness to understand someone different from ourselves. Even the smallest gesture can bear witness to the kingdom that “has come near.”
Let us therefore prepare our hearts quietly, faithfully, and joyfully.
For the kingdom of heaven has come near—and continues to draw near to us.
In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
