December 21, 2025, Year A, The Fourth Sunday in Advent

Matthew 1:2-19, Psalm 24, Isaiah 7:10-17

On this fourth Sunday of Advent, as the love candle illuminates our wreath, we stand on the threshold of Christmas, contemplating the love of God that draws near to us in human flesh. In a world often marked by fear, uncertainty, and self-reliance, the scriptures today invite us to behold the sign God gives—not because we demand it, but because of divine mercy and faithfulness. Our primary focus is the prophecy to Ahaz in Isaiah 7:10-17, a text that resonates with themes of trust and divine initiative, while Psalm 24 celebrates the entry of the King of glory, and Matthew's Gospel reveals the fulfillment in the birth of Jesus.

Let us begin with the heart of our reflection: the word of the Lord to Ahaz, King of Judah in the southern kingdom, through Isaiah. We are looking at Isaiah 7:10-17, found on page ______ of your pew Bibles.

The setting is 734–732 B.C., with Ahaz reigning over Judah. His father, Jotham, lingers on the edge of death. Judah faces dire threats from the kings of Israel and Damascus, who plot to oust Ahaz and replace him with their own puppet. Ahaz has every reason to tremble—they've already struck once, routing Judah's armies in humiliating defeat. Desperate, he hatches a scheme: to barter his kingdom's freedom to Assyria for survival—God’s covenant people were forbidden to make treaties and alliances with such pagan nations. Into this storm and violation of God’s rule steps the prophet Isaiah, sent to rally Ahaz with God's ironclad promise of protection—if only he trusts Yahweh, these attackers will amount to nothing.

In a profound act of mercy, to fortify the king's faltering faith, Isaiah extends an extraordinary offer in verse 11: “Ask a sign of the LORD your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven” (Isaiah 7:11, ESV). This is Ahaz's golden moment to forsake his legacy of idolatry and defiance, to step into divine safeguarding and blessing. His reply? A curt refusal.

What unfolds is Isaiah's searing response in verses 13–14: “And he said, ‘Hear then, O house of David! Is it too little for you to weary men, that you weary my God also? Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel’” (Isaiah 7:13-14, ESV).

Ahaz has breached an unbreakable boundary, plunging deeper into his duplicitous rebellion. From the start, this king has wandered far from the godly trailblazing of his ancestors, especially David. Recall that Judah was no ordinary realm—it was a theocracy, forged in sacred covenant with God to walk his statutes and embody his treasured nation. As monarch, Ahaz was duty-bound to shepherd his people toward covenant fidelity.

Yet amid this betrayal, God extends lavish grace: vows of rescue for Ahaz and Judah, capped by a sign to affirm his unwavering loyalty. This miracle wasn't just reassurance; it was a bridge to reconciliation, an open door to realign with the Almighty. Ahaz spurns it outright, exhausting divine forbearance as he had human patience.

In verse 14, “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign…”—Isaiah isn't implying God will ignore the snub and indulge Ahaz anyway. He perceives the king's shame in asking and steps forward boldly. Far from a gift, this sign indicts Ahaz's insolence.

Observe, however, the address: “house of David.” And the Hebrew “you” is plural, encompassing not merely Ahaz the man, but Ahaz as steward of David's lineage—the very bloodline God covenanted to perpetuate eternally on Israel's throne. This wasn't just a nation set apart for God; David's house was his ordained dynasty. Crucially, from this line would spring the Messiah. With every royal heir's birth, the hope flickered: Could this son be the Promised One? Every king knew his successor might herald eternity's dawn.

But Ahaz retorts, in essence, “Count me out—I forfeit the promise.” Against this, Isaiah counters, and I’m paraphrasing: “You will receive a sign that condemns your apostasy. Your revolt won't shatter God's covenant or stall his vows. Behold the sign: A virgin will conceive and bear a son, named Immanuel. You'll recognize it when it dawns.”

It is at this point we enter some level of controversy among scholars. The first layer has to do with the word “virgin” in this passage meaning simply “a young girl”. Implications of that would stretch to the virgin birth of Christ, undermining the Gospel. The second has to do with the timing of the child-sign. Was it for Ahaz or for 700+ years into the future, or both?

Matthew stands vindicated, against detractors who suggest the term used for virgin in Isaiah is simply a young woman, in proclaiming this prophecy's ultimate fulfillment in Jesus' virgin birth. First, “virgin” is the precise rendering; critics argue the Hebrew “alma” means merely “young woman,” citing “betulah” as the explicit virgin term. Yet “alma” denotes an unwed female, presumed chaste—precisely Mary's profile at her miraculous conception of Jesus.

Second, “Immanuel”—“God with us”—uniquely evokes divinity, applied to no other figure. Through this Child, God's tangible presence would tabernacle among his people in unprecedented intimacy.

Skeptics counter: This sign was meant for Ahaz's eyes, immediate and observable—how could a 700-year delay serve? Verses 15–16 suggest urgency: “He shall eat curds and honey when he knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good. For before the boy knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land whose two kings you dread will be deserted” (Isaiah 7:15-16, ESV). Sure enough, Assyria destroyed Israel and Damascus within years. If a virgin birth occurred soon after the prophecy in Ahaz’s time, the timeline aligned neatly with those foes' downfall.

Others propose dual fulfillments: a near-term virgin birth in Isaiah's day, plus Mary's. Prophetic patterns in Isaiah and beyond do layer like this. The snag? No candidate fits—from Ahaz's queen to Isaiah's own young wife. The definite article—“the virgin”—implies a specific, recognizable figure, ripe for validation as a sign.

That this prophecy stretches to a distant horizon shines through multiple layers. First, it surges past Assyria's conquests into chapters 8–11, where Immanuel evolves into the child of chapter 9, the Jessean Branch of chapter 11—a global Savior, not a local footnote. Just as earlier prophecies ballooned from national woes to cosmic reckoning, so this swells into the Messiah's redemptive arc.

Second, though Ahaz “receives” the sign, it's no faith-booster for him—it's a prophetic slap. He hears it proclaimed, but won't witness its bloom to claim solace. Aimed at David's house, it reassures the royal line: Ahaz's folly hasn't torpedoed the promise; the virgin's Child ensures the Messiah's advent.

Third, verses 15–16 gauge the interim till Assyria's strike—not a child's full maturity, but a toddler's span of a few years. For example, if you asked me how long it would take to get to Blairsville, I might respond, “As long as it takes for me to preach next Sunday’s sermon.” You would understand the shorthand to mean, about 25 minutes, as opposed to a week plus the first half of next Sunday’s service

Yet this oracle of ruin spares no one: It boomerangs on Judah in verse 17: “The LORD will bring upon you and upon your people and upon your father’s house such days as have not come since the day that Ephraim departed from Judah—the king of Assyria” (Isaiah 7:17, ESV).

Let’s summarize. First, we are best to understand “virgin” to mean what it meant to Matthew, a young woman of marriageable age who has been with no man. Second, whether there was a sign for Ahaz in his time or not, no one denies that this sign is fulfilled in Christ as Matthew says. I only bring the controversies up for you to be ready to defend theses positions should you come across detractors.

There are three things we should note before moving on about the ultimate message of this passage. First, is the danger of forsaking the grace, promises, and timing of God for our own way. Second, we should note that the promises of God will always come to pass: they shall not be thwarted. Third, and most glorious, God is with us in Christ Jesus.

Psalm 24 complements this beautifully, shifting from crisis to triumphant celebration. In verses 1-2, we read: “The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein, for he has founded it upon the seas and established it upon the rivers" (Psalm 24:1-2, ESV). This affirms God's absolute ownership and creative power, echoing the boundless sign offered to Ahaz—from the depths (seas/rivers) to the heights.

The psalm poses a challenge in verse 3: "Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord? And who shall stand in his holy place?" (Psalm 24:3, ESV). The answer in verse 4: "He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to what is false and does not swear deceitfully" (Psalm 24:4, ESV). Ahaz, with deceitful oaths to Assyria, fails this standard. His hands are unclean, his heart divided.

Yet the psalm culminates in procession in verses 7-10: "Lift up your heads, O gates! And be lifted up, O ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord, mighty in battle!... The Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory!" (Psalm 24:7-10, ESV). Likely composed for the ark's entry into Jerusalem (2 Samuel 6), it envisions the holy God entering the city to dwell among his people.

In light of Isaiah, the child Immanuel is the ultimate King of glory entering human history—not through mighty conquest but humble birth. The gates lift for the vulnerable yet victorious Lord. Those who seek God's face (Psalm 24:6) receive blessing and righteousness. Advent prepares our hearts as gates, purifying us for the King's entry.

Matthew brings these threads to glorious fulfillment. Addressing a Jewish audience, he traces Jesus' genealogy through David and Abraham, emphasizing covenant continuity despite human failures.

The birth narrative highlights crisis and obedience: Mary, betrothed to Joseph, is found pregnant by the Holy Spirit before marriage. Betrothal was legally binding; infidelity could mean death (Deuteronomy 22:23-24), but Joseph in verse 19, "a just man and unwilling to put her to shame," plans quiet divorce (Matthew 1:19, ESV).

An angel appears in a dream in verses 20-21: "Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins" (Matthew 1:20-21, ESV). "Jesus" (Yeshua) means "the Lord saves."

Matthew explicitly cites Isaiah in verses 22-23: "All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet: 'Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel' (which means, God with us)" (Matthew 1:22-23, ESV). Using the Septuagint's “parthenos” for "virgin," when translating Isaiah, Matthew sees the fuller miraculous sense: Mary's virginal conception of Jesus underscores divine origin.

Joseph awakens and obeys—taking Mary as wife but abstaining until after birth, naming the child Jesus. Contrast with Ahaz: both sons of David face fear; Ahaz refuses the sign in unbelief, Joseph receives divine revelation and acts in faith. Where Ahaz wearies God, Joseph honors him.

The dual names—Jesus (salvation) and Immanuel (presence)—reveal the incarnation's purpose: God with us to save us. Psalm 24's King enters not a temple but humanity itself.

Theologically, Immanuel signifies God's covenant loyalty. Despite Israel's failures, God remains with his people (Genesis 28:15; Joshua 1:5). In Christ, this presence is God incarnate (John 1:14).

Today, we face our "Assyrias"—powers promising security apart from God. Like Ahaz, fear tempts self-reliance; like Joseph, faith invites obedience.

Advent calls us to trust the sign: God with us in Word, sacrament, community. In Eucharist, Immanuel is present; in baptism, we ascend the hill with clean hands through Christ's righteousness.

For the anxious, hear "do not fear." For the doubting, behold the sign given anyway. For the weary, lift heads—the King comes.

To make this truth vivid, consider these illustrations drawn from Scripture:

First, think of young David facing Goliath. The Philistine giant mocked Israel and defied the living God, while King Saul and the army cowered in fear, relying on human armor and strategy. David, a shepherd boy, refused Saul's heavy armor, choosing instead five smooth stones and a sling. He declared, "You come to me with a sword and with a spear and with a javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts" (1 Samuel 17:45, ESV). Like Joseph, David trusted God's presence and promise in the crisis; like Ahaz, the army sought human solutions. David's obedience brought victory, showing that God with us triumphs over the greatest threats.

Second, recall Daniel in the lions' den. Jealous officials tricked King Darius into a decree forbidding prayer to anyone but the king. Daniel, knowing the penalty, continued his faithful practice of praying toward Jerusalem three times a day. Thrown into the den overnight, he emerged unharmed because "my God sent his angel and shut the mouths of the lions" (Daniel 6:22, ESV). Daniel refused the "alliance" of compromise for safety, trusting instead in God's protective presence. His obedience amid peril mirrored Joseph's quiet faithfulness, and God honored it with deliverance—a sign to the pagan king that the Lord is the living God.

These stories drive home the Advent call: in our crises, will we weary God like Ahaz, grasping at human securities, or will we obey like Joseph, welcoming the sign of Immanuel? These texts, read liturgically, form us for Christ's coming—past, present, future.

From the crisis of Ahaz to the triumphant procession of Psalm 24, and from Joseph's quiet obedience to the manger in Bethlehem, the great story of Scripture converges on this single, astonishing truth: the eternal God, sovereign over all creation, has not abandoned his fearful and faltering people to their own devices. Instead, in sovereign mercy, he has given the sign we did not deserve—a child born to a virgin, named Immanuel, God with us, who is also Jesus, the one who saves his people from their sins.

This is the King of glory who lifts the ancient doors not by force but by laying down his life, entering our humanity to redeem it from within. The illustrations we have considered—David's courage and Daniel's steadfast prayer—all point to the same pattern: where human wisdom falters and fear tempts us to false alliances, faithful obedience opens the way for God's presence to dwell among us and to work deliverance.

As we stand on the edge of Christmas, let us turn from every "Assyria" of our own making, purify our hearts in repentance and faith, and lift high the gates of our lives. For the promise given to the house of David is now ours: Immanuel has come in the humility of the incarnation, he comes now in Word and sacrament, and he will come again in glory. Therefore, do not fear. Trust the sign. Welcome the King. Rejoice with all your heart, for God is with us, and in him we are forever saved.

Let’s pray…