Here we are, at the beginning of the season of Advent, the time in the Church Year which builds up to the great celebration of Christmas. Advent used to have a much more penitential feel to it, more like the season of Lent. It was a time when we dwelled a bit more on our sins and failures as we gave thanks for God’s gifts. There is still some of that, but it is hard to be captivated by a sense of repentance when you are putting up Christmas decorations and singing along to your favorite carols. And to be honest, that is just fine. While Advent may not retain the somber feel of Lent, it does contain that sense of anticipation. There is longing at this time of the year, and rightly so. We learn it early on as kids of all ages are captivated by the coming presents on Christmas Day. Perhaps we are excited about seeing family and friends, about gathering for a feast, or simply to have a break in our otherwise hectic schedule.

The term “Advent” advent comes from the Latin word for “coming” or “arrival.” Perhaps a great exercise this time of year is to dwell on the different advents of our God: The advent that happened all those years ago in the little town of Bethlehem as the Word became flesh, the advent that we are longing for when our risen Lord and Savior will come again in glory, and the advent here and now as our Lord does His work through Word and Sacrament to kill and bring forth new life. In other words, we ought to recall and give thanks that not only did our God come to save us and promise to come again, but He comes here now. And for all of this, we rightly give Him thanks and praise. Our God is a God who arrives in the midst of His people to bring faith and salvation, and we are given a beautiful image of this work in the promises made in Jeremiah 33.

Jeremiah prophecies in the midst of a nation in turmoil. In short, things have gotten really bad. The sins of the people of God have been laid bare before Him. The prophet is sent to call for repentance. This is usually the role of a prophet, which (it turns out) is a dangerous profession. The people do not usually appreciate being called out and will often circle the ranks to silence the squeaky wheel. Jeremiah’s hometown even plotted against him. They seem to have forgotten the role of God, His call on their lives, and the responsibility of being His chosen ones. The fascinating thing about the words of Jeremiah is that he is not there only to tear them down, to expose his brothers and sisters. No, his words are a powerful proclamation of the Gospel. He proclaims to them the promise of their God and their Creator’s forgiveness and mercy. In many ways, his message operates as a precursor to John the Baptist, who will famously cry out, “Repent and believe the Good News, for the Kingdom of God is at hand.”

So, we begin our Advent season in this same vain; a call to repent and believe. This starts with most of us as simple things, the common failures of mankind. You repent of the times you have had impure thoughts, the times you have flooded your senses with pornography and chosen the things that thrive outside of the light of Christ. You repent of the actions you have taken which hurt others, the regrets of actions you cannot take back, or the times you have failed to help when you could have, the times you have been selfish and petty. You repent of the millions of setbacks in any quest to live as the righteous people of God. You know no one is perfect, and as God’s children, you know full well you have sinned in thoughts, words, and deeds by what you have done and left undone.

But then there are bigger, more profound moments of deep repentance. I remember many years ago sitting in a dark corner of a bar in a VFW, talking with a member whose lengthy career included two tours in Vietnam when he was very young. His experience was beyond anything I could imagine. The violence and brutality he witnessed and executed were difficult to hear. One of the things I have learned over my years as a pastor is that most confessions do not come in the church building or the pastor’s study, but in places like that. His story unfolded into a life of tragedy. Unable to process what he experienced; he led a life that was broken to its core. One failed marriage after another dotted his landscape, children out of wedlock, broken promises, and what we would now call crippling PTSD. Tears welled up in his eyes as he confided in me the truth that, in some way, not only did he commit sin, he was sin, and it permeated his body. Righteousness was not something he could ever hope for because he would never move toward it.

As we sat there, younger veterans occasionally bought him a drink, saluting his service. He would muster up a smile, nod to the gesture, and then turn back to me in utter despair. He was done, at the proverbial end of his rope. If God were to come to him, it was certainly only to render a final judgment, solely to condemn him for his sin. Righteousness was beyond his reach, and he knew it. He longed for any sense of hope even as he knew he did not deserve it. And sometimes you get to that point as well. Sure, your story may not be as grim as his, but there is a moment when you take the hard look in the mirror and see something beyond bad choices and unclean habits. You see something broken deep within.

But here, the Good News, proclaimed all those years ago by the prophet Jeremiah to a people on the other side of the globe, begins to breathe new life into us. These ancient promises tell of a God who fulfills His promises to His people, whether those people are gathering in the Temple in Jerusalem or sitting in a VFW in Southeast Georgia. He says, “In those days and at that time, I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David, and He shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.” A righteous branch from the line of David, a branch who will come to bring justice and righteousness to the people of God. This is the great advent of our God born of Mary in Bethlehem, the birthplace of David himself. It is the promise of a God who comes humble and riding on a donkey to the shouts of the people saying, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!” With His arrival, something new begins, new hope, new assurance, as righteousness is not just something held out there as an object to your life goals but as something which moves to you.

Jeremiah goes on to say, “In those days Judah will be saved, and Jerusalem will dwell securely. And this is the name by which it will be called; ‘The Lord is our righteousness.’” The salvation of Judah and Jerusalem, the salvation of the people of God, is given a name, and that name is “The Lord is our righteousness.” Righteousness here is not achieved by our work and measured out by our merit. It is a gift bestowed in a new name. It is a proclamation that is made. This is the working of a God who advents with His people. He came to declare your righteousness in His life, death, and resurrection. He will come again to bring this righteousness to light and open wide the gates of eternal life to all who are so named.

Yet, He continues to come here and now. He comes to those who are broken and ashamed, to those whose lives are marked by failure and defeat. He comes to gather the lost and bind up the brokenhearted. He calls you by name, declares you to be His own dear children, clothes you with His garments of righteousness, and promises you life eternal. So, the name you are now called is: “The Lord is our righteousness.” It is a gift freely given, a gift incorruptible and sure.