Now listen, dikaios, sadik, these words are the
whole key to the story. These toss them out,
you turn Joseph into some sanitized Boy Scout.
But with them, you see a man choosing mercy when
the law said stone her. That's the gospel, cracking
open, right there in the dark. Tonight we continue
our Advent series, In Those Days, four nights
at the edge of Bethlehem with a quiet figure
who often slips past us in the nativity scene,
Joseph. No halo yet, no recorded words, just
a man whose obedience didn't come with applause.
In a world where walking away is easy, Joseph
chose to stay and... That simple act of faith,
quiet, costly, unseen, carried the weight of
God's promise. If you've ever felt overlooked,
unappreciated, or tempted to give up when no
one's watching, Joseph's story is going to speak
to you. And hey, look, here we are every Wednesday
night. It's our midweek meal. And of course,
We're right in the thick of the Advent season,
Christmas Eve, just around the corner. The lights
are all up in the sanctuary. We've got fresh
coffee and a little hot chocolate waiting for
you tonight. No pressure, no polish, just space
to breathe, learn, and be reminded God is with
us, even in the shadows. I'll see you on the
other side. We are running a little bit behind
here because of my rant. And so I'm going to
very quickly look to my friend Wayne here with
the big thumbs up. So week two of our Bible study
series in which we're looking at the nativity
story. And the way that we're doing it, it's
called Four Nights in Bethlehem. And we started
last week and we looked at Mary. We're going
to look at Joseph. And then we're going to end
up on Christmas Eve, which is a Wednesday. No
dinner and Bible study on Christmas Eve. But
we will be having our Christmas Eve candlelight
service at 7 p .m. And that will be our fourth
stop. And when we get to the end of the series,
we're going to be standing in a field with a
bunch of shepherds as the sky breaks open. So,
that's kind of the map, the place that we're
going to. And last week... Just to set the scene
here, we saw Mary gave to us the theology of
surrender with her words, let it be according
to your word. And this week, we're not moving
far, actually. We're just one house over. Another
doorway. Another life nobody would have ever
circled on the census. Tonight, we're going to
stand with Joseph. No halo in the paintings yet.
No Advent Carol written about him. In fact, no
recorded speech. Zero. No spotlight, just a good
man with sawdust in his hair, a half -finished
table on his workbench, and a fiancé who just
told him something that made the world fall out
from under his feet. Joseph doesn't ever get
the Magnificat. Joseph doesn't get a chorus of
angels, at least not while he's awake. Joseph
gets a dream and a choice. Now, this is a man
that Scripture calls righteous. Important word
for tonight, righteous. Not because he won an
argument, not because he protected his reputation.
but because he chose mercy when the law gave
him permission to walk away. And if you've ever
been tempted to bolt, to quit, to say, I didn't
sign up for this, you're going to find a friend
in Joseph tonight. So let's walk slow, breathe
deep. Let Matthew tell us the story only the
way Matthew can. But before scripture rises in
our ears, let us sit with this truth. Sometimes
the holiest thing you can do is simply stay.
Not because staying is easy. Not because it looks
respectable. Not because anyone will notice or
applaud. is weaving salvation through your obedience,
through the decisions that are made in kitchens
and workrooms, through the faithfulness that
no camera captures, through the stay when leaving
would be the easier thing to do. And Joseph never
wrote a psalm, never preached a sermon, never
spoke. A single recorded word. But his obedience
echoes louder than most speeches. That's his
story, and it might be yours too. So friends,
tune your ears to the reading of Scripture, Gospel
account according to Matthew, the first chapter,
beginning with verse 18. Now the birth of Jesus,
the Messiah, took place in this way. When his
mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before
they lived together, she was found to be with
child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph,
being a righteous man and unwilling to expose
her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her
quietly. But just when he had resolved to do
this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in
a dream. and said, Joseph, son of David, do not
be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the
child she conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.
She will bear a son, and you are to name him
Jesus, for he will save his people from their
sins. All this took place to fulfill what had
been spoken by the Lord through the prophet.
Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son.
and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means
God with us. When Joseph awoke from his sleep,
he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him,
and he took her as his wife, but had no marital
relations with her until she had born a son,
and she named him Jesus. The word of the Lord,
friends, slips into a carpenter's dream. and
wakes him into a life he could have never planned.
Salvation comes wrapped not only in swaddling
cloth, but in obedience carried out in the dark.
Choices made before dawn. The man who simply
got up did what the angel commanded. May we hear
what Joseph heard. May we walk where Joseph walked.
So I want to start tonight by having you picture,
if you can, somebody who didn't bail when everything
in them said they should have. Maybe it's a father
who stayed even when the house felt too heavy,
when the marriage was hard, when the job was
gone, when the easiest thing to do would have
just been to disappear. But he kept showing up.
Kept putting food on the table. Kept coaching
the little league, even with his own life falling
apart. Never said much about it, just stayed.
Maybe it's his spouse who chose covenant over
convenience. Woke up one morning and realized
this was not the life that they had imagined.
She stayed anyway. Not out of grim duty. Out
of a love that had learned to be stubborn. Love
that said, I meant what I said at that altar,
even if I didn't know what it would cost me.
Maybe it's a friend stuck by your side when your
life got messy. When rumors were flying, when
you couldn't lift your head, when the respectable
thing would have been to slowly drift out of
your orbit and pretend, well, they didn't really
even know you that well. But they didn't drift.
They showed up with casseroles and didn't ask
questions. They sat with you in silence when
there was nothing helpful to say. Maybe it's
a mother who raised kids after their daddy left,
who worked two jobs, still made time for school
play, never bad -mouthed the man who walked out,
even though she had every single right to do
so. There's a certain kind of strength in a person
like that. Not the loud kind, not the chest -thumping,
look -at -me kind. The quiet, staying kind. Like
a porch light burning in the dark for prodigals
who haven't found their way home yet. Like a
table set with an extra plate, just in case.
Advent gives us one of those men. Scripture?
only needs eight verses to show us his whole
heart. Joseph, again, doesn't say a word in the
entire New Testament. Not one recorded sentence,
but what he does might be the loudest sermon
in the opening chapter of Matthew's Gospel. And
tonight, we're not going to make Joseph look
flashy. We're not going to polish him into something
he's not. We're going to see him the way God
saw him. a man who didn't walk away, a man whose
righteousness looked like mercy, not moral posturing,
a man who obeyed in the shadows so that salvation
could find the light. Here's the tension, I think,
under this text when it comes to righteousness.
I think when we think of righteousness, We think
of being right, looking right, being perceived
as right, protecting the image of righteousness
at all costs. In fact, the truth of the matter
is, we fear shame more than we fear disobedience.
And we don't say it out loud, but there is a
soundtrack. playing deep inside each one of us.
I'll do the right thing as long as people still
think well of me. And Joseph's story exposes
that. Because Joseph's story is going to cost
him his reputation, his social standing, his
comfort, and his pride. Nazareth wasn't a big
place. A few hundred people maybe. Everybody
knew everybody. People talked because people
always talk. And Joseph knew the moment he stayed
with Mary, people would start doing the math
in their heads, counting months on their fingers,
whispers at the well. The side eye at the synagogue
will bless their hearts, they'll say, but you
know how that happened. Now, in the ancient world,
scandal stuck like burrs in wool. It didn't wash
off. It followed you around, followed your children.
Joseph's choice here is going to ruin his reputation.
And right there, before the angel even shows
up, you see the kind of man he already is. Her
husband, Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling
to expose her to public disgrace, planned to
dismiss her quietly. Joseph, please note, is
righteous before the dream. The dream, the visit
from the angel, the decision to do what God said
did not make Joseph righteous. Scripture says
Joseph was righteous before that. And according
to Matthew, righteousness looks like mercy, not
punishment. not public vindication, not clearing
his own name at her expense. Before heaven speaks
a single word, Joseph has already chosen kindness
over correctness. He's already said no, no, to
the impulse to shame someone in order to protect
himself. He's already refused the path of vengeance,
dressed up as holiness. Mercy is Joseph's default
setting. And that's the kind of righteousness
heaven trusts with the greatest secret. Now,
before they lived together, she was found to
be with child. That's how Matthew breaks the
news here. Clinical. Almost legal language. But,
put your sandals on. To Joseph? This was heartbreak.
This was the floor dropping out underneath him.
This was every single plan he had made for his
life, theirs together, crumbling in a single
conversation. Now, let me also stop here and
explain how, in the first century, betrothal
worked. In first century Judaism, engagement
wasn't like engagement today. A promise you could
call off with an awkward conversation. Or text.
Betrothal was actually legally binding. Mary
was already Joseph's wife in the eyes of the
law. They just hadn't consummated the marriage
yet. Breaking a betrothal. require a formal divorce.
So, Joseph had three legal options. One, expose
her publicly, bring her before the elders, Deuteronomy
chapter 22 gives him that right, clear his name,
and let her face the consequences, which could
have included stoning to death. if the community
was strict about it. Now, another option, number
two, break the engagement loudly. Divorce her
publicly and let the community do the shaming
for it. His hands stay technically clean. Number
three, dismiss her quietly. Write the divorce
papers, keep it private. protect her from disgrace,
lose face himself. Joseph chooses door number
three. And Matthew calls that righteousness.
But we don't usually define righteousness like
that. We want righteousness that wins arguments,
that clears our name, that makes sure everyone
knows We were the wrong party. Joseph shows us
a righteousness that absorbs embarrassment rather
than inflicting it. He's already living the sermon
on the mount before Jesus ever gets around to
preaching it. Now, let's also look at the dream,
but just... When he had resolved to do this,
right when Joseph had made peace with the merciful
decision, God interrupted his life. An angel
appeared in a dream. Joseph, son of David, do
not be afraid to take Mary as your wife. That
phrase, do not be afraid, tells us everything
we need to know. Because Joseph is terrified.
Not of Mary, not of the baby. Terrified at what
obedience will cost him. Terrified of what people
are going to say. Terrified of a life he didn't
plan. Terrified of a calling that makes absolutely
no sense. And notice, heaven doesn't start with
an explanation. Heaven starts with a reassurance.
Do not be afraid. The comfort comes before the
command. Then the instruction. Take her as your
wife. Not tolerate her from a distance. Not wait
until this scandal passes over. Take her. Stand
with her. Stand and share in her shame. Lean
into the humiliation. and trust that God is doing
something inside of it. Then the revelation,
you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his
people from their sins. Now, I want to stop again
here, because what's about to start happening
is very important symbolically. Remembering,
perhaps, or learning for the first time, the
gospel account of Matthew was pretty well accepted
to have been written for Jewish converts to Christianity,
Jewish believers of Jesus. His gospel account
is written as if he expected a Jewish person
who knew their scriptures to understand everything
he was saying without him having to explain it.
So he'll use these little symbols here. that
Jewish readers would have seen as hyperlinks
to a whole story that they knew in their head
that we don't have context to. So I'm going to
try to highlight them without bogging this down.
So check this out, because right about here is
where the story gets cool. In the ancient world,
naming a child was the father's right and the
father's responsibility. Naming the child was
a legal declaration of the man saying, this child
is mine. This child belongs to my household.
This child carries my lineage and my name into
the future. Joseph isn't just protecting Mary.
He's becoming... the legal father of the Messiah.
He's grafting the Son of God into David's family
line, of which he is a member. His obedience
ties the incarnation to Israel's history. This
is no small thing. This is salvation coming to
us through prophecy. From the history of God's
people moving forward, and it is hinging on a
carpenter's willingness to say yes. In fact,
Matthew steps back. He quotes Isaiah 7, 14. He
doesn't have to explain to the reader who Isaiah
is. Again, he knows you know what he's saying.
Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means
God with us. And we usually hear God with us
in candlelight, soft music, Christmas Eve warmth.
Joseph hears it surrounded by gossip, side -eye,
and scandal. For Joseph, God with us meant God
with us in the rumors, in the embarrassment.
God with us. When doing the right thing looks
like doing the wrong thing that everybody is
paying attention to. Emmanuel isn't pretty. Emmanuel
is costly. Emmanuel sticks to you when obedience
ruins how people are going to look at you. And
then when Joseph awoke from his sleep, he did
as the angel of the Lord commanded him. That's
the whole verse. No internal dialogue of Joseph.
No wrestling with the weight of it all. No dramatic
scene. He woke up. He did it. He took her. He
named a child. He stepped into a life that would
be questioned for as long as he lived, but would
never be forgotten. Joseph becomes the patriot
saint of those who obey God in a blue -collar
quiet. No spotlight, no stage, no applause, just
faithfulness in the shadows. Matthew is a very,
very careful writer. He doesn't waste words.
He doesn't have to explain. When he quotes Micah
5 and 2 a few verses later, from you, Bethlehem,
shall come a ruler. How did Jesus get to Bethlehem?
Joseph takes in there. When he quotes Hosea 11
and 1. Guys, these are prophets talking about
the Messiah. Hosea 11 and 1 says, out of Egypt
I called my son. How did Jesus get to Egypt and
back? Joseph carried him. When the family settles
in Nazareth to fulfill yet another prophecy,
Joseph moves them there. Joseph. is the map God
used to walk the Messiah through all of Scripture's
promises. He never says a word. But every prophecy
about the Messiah's geography runs through his
hands and his feet. Plus, I'm naming him as my
lineage. Salvation depends on the obedience.
of a man the world barely noticed. Now, let me
walk slowly again here. Joseph, again, is not
just a character in a Christmas story. Joseph
should be a mirror. And the Spirit is asking
through that mirror tonight, where is God asking
you not to bail? Where might obedience to God
cost you your image? What decision looks more
respectable if you walk away, but more faithful
if you stay? Maybe it's forgiving someone who
has wounded you deeply. You've been nursing that
grudge like a low flame, keeping it alive because
letting it go feels like losing. Maybe it's staying
present in a marriage that's harder than you
ever imagined it would be. Nobody sees the work
you're doing. Nobody knows what it costs to keep
showing up. You keep showing up anyway. Maybe
it's telling the truth when a lie would protect
your reputation. When honesty is going to make
you look bad. When silence would let people think
well of you. Joseph teaches us something the
world doesn't value. Quiet obedience. It's one
of the loudest forms of faith. Not dramatic faith,
not spotlight faith, not faith that needs to
be seen to be real. Just faith that says, I will
do what God asks, even if nobody claps, even
if everybody talks, even if my reputation takes
a hit, even if my obedience might look like failure
from the outside. Joseph's righteousness didn't
protect his image. It protected Mary. It protected
Jesus. And it protected God's unfolding salvation.
Here's the thing about that kind of faithfulness.
It rarely gets recognized in the moment. The
world doesn't throw parades for people who simply
stay. The world celebrates people who leave dramatically.
who reinvent themselves, who chase something
shinier. The ones who stay will barely even notice
until they're gone. Tonight, God may be asking
you the very same question he asked Joseph. Will
you protect your image, or will you protect what
I'm doing? Let's not end in pressure. Let's end
in presence. God who showed up in Joseph's dream
is the same God who shows up in yours. He doesn't
come waving a clipboard. He doesn't come with
shame. He comes with Emmanuel, God with us. God
with you in your confusion. God with you in your
embarrassment. God with you in those quiet decisions
nobody else sees. God with you in the rooms where
reputation trembles and obedience feels like
loss. You do not need applause to be faithful.
You do not need clarity to be obedient. You don't
need a spotlight or spotless reputation to be
righteous. You just need willingness. Joseph
didn't change the world by speaking. He changed
by staying. We find the grace in the same. And
go in peace. Next week, we walk with them to
Bethlehem, where there's no room. God shows up
anyway. Amen? Amen. Thanks, guys. Thank you.
Maybe tonight God's not asking you to go anywhere
flashy. Maybe he's just asking you to stay. To
stay faithful when it's hard. To stay kind when
no one's watching. To stay present when everything
in you wants to disappear. Joseph didn't save
the world with a sword or a sermon. He saved
it by staying. And sometimes, sometimes that's
the holiest thing we can do. if obedience feels
small, unseen, or even humiliating right now.
You know what? You're in good company. Heaven
has always trusted big things to quiet people,
so take heart. Friend, you're not forgotten.
You're not failing. You're just walking the kind
of path that matters most, the one that honors
God in the shadows. Hey, thanks for stopping
by tonight. Just a reminder, This isn't a podcast
studio. This is real church, real pews, real
coffee, real casseroles. Somebody's grandma puts
way too much cheese on everything, and we thank
her for it. If you like what you heard tonight,
go ahead and throw your like in the offering
plate as it comes around. And if you want to
keep walking with us through this Advent season,
don't forget to tithe your subscribe. That way...
You'll know when we're lighting the next candle.
Until then, keep showing up, keep staying faithful,
and be blessed.