Bishop Craig Schweitzer

This sermon was offered to the Western North Dakota Synod on the First Sunday of Christmas, December 28, 2025. It is centered in Matthew 2:13-23.

VIDEO RECORDING

GOSPEL READING (from the NRSVue translation)

¹³ Now after they [the magi] had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” ¹⁴ Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt ¹⁵ and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”

  ¹⁶ When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the magi, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the magi. ¹⁷ Then what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:
 ¹⁸ “A voice was heard in Ramah,
  wailing and loud lamentation,
 Rachel weeping for her children;
  she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

  ¹⁹ When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, ²⁰ “Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.” ²¹ Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. ²² But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. ²³ There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, “He will be called a Nazarene.”

SERMON

Beloved sisters and brothers, friends in Christ across the Western North Dakota Synod, grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ child come to us today. Amen.

First of all – Merry Christmas!! Yes, it is still Christmas! It may not feel or look like Christmas anymore in your home. And today’s gospel reading is not the story we might expect to hear while Christmas lights are still shining and carols are still ringing in our ears or being sung today.

The gospel of Matthew, on this First Sunday of Christmas takes us right from angel songs and manger straw into danger, dislocation, and grief. The holy family flees for their lives. Innocent children are slaughtered. A tyrant’s fear poisons an entire region of the ancient world. And the words echo: “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation.”

This is a shocking gospel story. And…it’s honest.

Christmas has never been a fairy tale. It has always been God choosing to enter a world that groans, weeps, and sometimes breaks under the weight of fear, violence, and uncertainty. The incarnation is not avoidance. The Incarnation is God’s decision to join us right in the middle of it all.

And in that way, today’s gospel fits the moment you and I have lived together this past year. In every congregation, in every small town and city neighborhood, along every stretch of highway and gravel road, we have seen joy and challenge woven tightly together – often at the exact same time. We have witnessed holy grit. We have watched God show up in real time in lives that are not always tidy and neat or always make sense.

This past year, you and I – this body of Christ in Western North Dakota – have lived the incarnation in our own flesh and bones.

You welcomed neighbors in ways to our communities that we haven’t done in generations.

You fed hungry people in ways that we couldn’t have imagined doing together, or needing to do, just a few years ago.

You held funerals for beloved saints, and celebrated baptisms at kitchen tables and sanctuaries filled to capacity.

You prayed with farmers and ranchers watching the sky and the markets, wondering if this year’s harvest was going to be their last.

You stood with your community in their grief following unspeakable tragedy.

And you gathered youth and adults together to ask questions about life and faith that are often deeper than the age of any of our voices.

You supported students in campus ministry at Minot State University and thousands of campers and retreat guests at our outdoor ministries – Badlands Ministries, Camp of the Cross Ministries, Metigoshe Ministries, and Springbrook Bible Camp.

You strengthened the hands, feet, and voices of pastors, deacons, and synod authorized ministers serving in holy places across our synod where ministry and mission is shared, creative things are happening every day, and roots are planted that focus more on commitment and perseverance rather than convenience or simply doing it that way because that’s the way we’ve always done it before.

You helped send youth and adults on mission trips across the United States and generously supported our global partners in far off places like the Central African Republic, El Salvador, and Nigeria.

You wrestled with hard decision in your faith communities, navigated leadership transitions, and asked courageous questions about the future of ministry and mission in the places you have called your faith home for generations.

And through it all, Christ Jesus has been with you. Not in a romantic Christmas card way, but in the gritty, steady, Emmanuel way. The same Jesus whose family fled to Egypt to save their lives. The same Jesus who lived as a refugee. The same Jesus who steps into the world not to avoid suffering but to redeem it from the inside.

Matthew reminds us that even in the dark chapters of the story, God is still with us. Still moving. Still guiding. Still protecting.

The holy family finds refuge.

The brutal tyrant does not get the last word.

And quietly, humbly, the child who will carry the world’s hope grows toward his mission for God’s kingdom.

This is where you and I stand today. Between what has been hard and what is still full of promise and hope and life eternal.

As we look toward a new year, I want to remind you of something quite profound. The ministry and mission we share is not small. It is not insignificant. It is not a footnote in some larger project. It is the work of God’s people, bearing Christ’s light in a world that still needs it as desperately as ever before.

Your visits to the homebound matter.

Your generous financial support, often called mission support matters. Mission support is the only financial support the church has to do the work God is calling us to do in congregations, synods, and global church relationships around the world.

Your presence in worship matters.

Your courage to try new ministries matters.

Your willingness to pray and stand alongside your neighbors matters.

Your ability to speak mercy and grace into painful places matters.

Every act of compassion, every hymn sung in a sanctuary, every confirmation class that asks the tough questions, all of these things are signs that Emmanuel is not just a word we sing, but a God who still lives among us today.

So, sisters and brothers in Christ, as 2025 turns into 2026, take heart. God is with you. God has been faithful every step of this past year, even when you weren’t sure how ministry and mission would unfold. And God will go with you into the unknown paths ahead – just as God went with Joseph and Mary and Jesus on that road to Egypt so long ago.

The world is still messy, but Christ Jesus is still here. And you and I – this synod, these congregations, this church, these people spread across prairies and towns – get to bear witness to that good news.

May this Christmas season continue to root you in hope. May the coming year renew your strength. And may the God who journeys with refugees, who cradles grieving mothers, and who brings light out of the shadows guide us all into a new year filled with love, courage, and surprising joy.

Thanks be to God. Amen.