God’s Advent.

A time we can wait with joy for Christmas.

I say “finally,” but honestly it feels as though the Christmas preparations here at the Seamen’s Church have already lasted an eternity because of the Christmas bazaar.

Advent is traditionally a time of fasting, and the liturgical color symbolizes, among other things, the blue of heaven blending with the red earth.

The theme in today’s text Matthew 21:1-11 , in Advent, is expectation.

Many of us have strong expectations of what Christmas must be like for it to count as a “real Christmas.” Norwegians take Christmas very seriously, to put it mildly.

There are so many traditions and expectations that it can feel as though they overshadow what it all is actually about.

Another challenge is that misplaced or unrealistic expectations always lead to unnecessary disappointment.

These days I receive many emails from Norwegians in the U.S. who can’t find pinnekjøtt, since it’s not being produced or imported this year. I can practically hear the disappointment. Christmas feels ruined because pinnekjøtt is missing.

Right before this Thanksgiving, the whole week was full of discussions about how the sweet potatoes should be made this year. Which recipe to use? The one making them had chosen a new recipe. It was met with great skepticism and suspicion. Would the sweet potatoes ruin all of Thanksgiving? Thankfully, they were good enough for the family.

We all carry expectations, almost demands, for what Christmas must be like for us to call it Christmas. Expectations so heavy that our focus shifts to fulfilling them, rather than focusing on who and what we are actually awaiting in this Advent season: the Christ child, the Son of God, born in a stable on a Bethlehem night.

Jesus was born regardless of whether the pork rind becomes crispy, or whether there is pinnekjøtt, or whether someone gets the almond in the porridge.

Jesus himself was a great disappointment to many who expected a very different kind of savior, a different Messiah.

They had expectations of how the Messiah should behave and how he would liberate the Jews and Israel from the occupying Romans. He was expected to arrive as the greatest king, with power and glory, to destroy the enemies and place them under his feet.

But Jesus is a different kind of king. He is indeed the greatest human being, the mightiest, the only perfect one, the King of kings, but he did not act in the ways people expected. He chose to come as a king, but in complete humility, riding on a donkey’s colt.

For what is a king? A tyrant ruling with power and fear or a king who rules by serving his people, in humility and love?

Perhaps especially in this country it is difficult to imagine a king who rules by serving, who is humble. And I’m not talking about current leaders, but politics in general, which many seem quite skeptical of.

Today’s text is exactly about Jesus entering Jerusalem as a different kind of king. Not on a majestic horse, but on a humble donkey.
In fact, Jesus’ whole life is one lived in humility. Remember that God is almighty—He chooses how He wishes to appear in this world.

He is not born in a palace or in the temple, but in a stable, because there was no room for Mary, Joseph, or the baby. Already here God shows us what kind of God He is. If we want to know God better, we must look to Jesus.

Last Christmas Eve I held services in Utstein Monastery outside Stavanger, a church nearly 900 years old.

One thing I preached about was how every time a child is born into the world, the world changes a little. The day you were born, the world changed. Have you ever thought about that? Your presence affects the world.

The world is never quite the same after a child is born. Something has forever changed; a woman has become a mother, a man a father, someone a brother or sister, or a grandparent. And most of all: a new person, who will leave their mark, has come into the world.

But nothing changed the world as much as that Bethlehem night when Jesus was born—vulnerable, in a manger, in utter humility.

Jesus came as a servant king. Not with power as His weapon, but humility and love.

It is precisely Jesus’ humble entry that makes the people around Him recognize: this is the Messiah, the Son of God, the Savior entering Jerusalem.
He will serve us all with His life, so that we can be freed from our greatest enemy—sin, which leads to death—and receive eternal life.

Have you ever thought about what Hosanna means? Many interpret it as a cheer, a shout of praise—like a “hurrah!” on the 17th of May. (Norways national constitution day) It has taken on that meaning over time, but that is not the original Hebrew meaning.

Hosanna means: Help! Save us!—with an exclamation mark.

The crowds streaming out of Jerusalem do not meet Jesus with cheers, but with cries for help—help towards salvation.

It is the humility of the donkey and of Jesus that reminds them that the Messiah was to enter Jerusalem on a donkey’s colt to save His people.
The Jews were an occupied, oppressed, and persecuted people. This is not a 17th-of-May parade shouting “Hurrah, here comes our king!” No—this is a cry for help. He is their only hope and savior. They run out of their misery while Jesus rides in to take upon Himself all our misery.

And they come with expectations of a savior—a savior who will chase out the enemy and give them back their land. But Jesus is not the savior they expected. Not at all. They expected power and victory—a warrior king riding in. They were so disappointed that only days later, after Jesus entered Jerusalem, they stood before Pontius Pilate shouting: “Crucify him!”

Jesus never fulfilled the expectations the Jews had placed on Him. He was the Messiah—they even confess it in today’s text—but when their expectations remained unmet, expectation turned into disappointment. First they acknowledge Him as Messiah when they cry:

Hosanna, Son of David!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!

But they expected something completely different from their king.

Perhaps you too have had expectations of God or Jesus that were not fulfilled. Perhaps you are disappointed—maybe even angry with God?
I know I have felt that. I know many who pray for their sick children, spouses, friends, family—with the expectation that God will intervene—yet He does not always do so. And it is completely allowed to be angry with God. He can bear it.

I have prayed thousands of times for peace in the world, without God intervening. I know He can, and I know He longs for peace—but for reasons we cannot understand, He does not meet all our expectations or intervene the way we wish.

Perhaps it is our task to create peace in the world—since it is we who create war and hunger?

Many are disappointed in God when He does not fulfill our expectations.
But we must remember: He never promised to fulfill all our expectations. Those are often our hopes and wishes—not His promises.

But now that it is Advent, I know there are things we can expect from God—things He has promised us and shown us through Jesus:

• That He loves us and longs with His whole heart to have a relationship with us.
• That He saves us from our greatest enemies—sin and death.
• That His relationship with us is not based on power and might, fear or intimidation—but humility, service, and love.

These are things we can expect from God and Jesus: God’s love. Being loved by God. And that if we follow Jesus, we remain in His love. That we should serve one another in humility as Jesus serves us.

This text of Jesus riding into Jerusalem always gives me a picture of what it might have looked like. Remember: the roads into Jerusalem were dry and dusty.

I imagine the dust rising as Jesus rides with the crowd before and behind Him. Dust—like something dead. Like many people’s disappointments. Like faith that has dried out and become lifeless.

When the people spread their cloaks on the road and others cut branches and laid them down, I imagine them doing this to hold the dust down—to honor their king.

I imagine this dust representing humanity’s great disappointments—all the expectations placed on God that He did not fulfill.

But dust is not the end for God. Dry and lifeless faith is not the end for God.
For with God, dust plus God’s breath becomes life.

God created us in His image—from dust—and breathed life into us. Dust is not the end. With God’s breath, dust becomes new life.

Your disappointments with God or Jesus may feel like dust. But God has a plan—and it is good. The dust will become life again. Always.

In a few weeks we will celebrate the birthday of the Christ child. God who came into this world naked and vulnerable—powerless and dependent on Mary and Joseph’s love and care. The Almighty made Himself powerless.

I do believe we should have expectations for Christmas—but not for unimportant things like crispy pork rind, pinnekjøtt, or special gifts.
There is nothing wrong with those things—but do not let them overshadow the greatest gift of all.

God’s Savior is born on earth—for us—in love, so that we may follow Him into eternal life in Heaven. And also as a model for us, to serve one another in humility and love.

Through Jesus we not only come to know God—we build a relationship with Him, and with one another as believers, that surpasses every expectation we could imagine.

Since God has loved us in this way, the right response is to love Him back—to remain in the love between the Father and the Son through the Holy Spirit.

Glory be to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—
as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever,
one true God from everlasting to everlasting. Amen.