“Making PLans”

Fourth Sunday in Advent

December 21, 2025

Isaiah 41:5-10

Matthew 1:18-25

Children’s Message:

Using Legos:

Check out all these Legos. Many of you have played with these during worship before. You’ve made lots of things. What can we make with what we have here?

There’s even a book with instructions to make lots of different things. Have you used this book when you’re making stuff? Sometimes. Sometimes you just make whatever comes into your head, right?

If you use the book, are you allowed to do something different than what the instructions say? Why? So, you can be creative. You can change the plans and change the design and change the outcome. Is it dangerous to make changes along the way?

Today we heard about Joseph. Do you know who that is? It’s Jesus’ dad—sort of. He planned to marry Mary, Jesus’ mom. And when he found out she was already pregnant, his plans changed. But God sent an angel to tell him he was chosen to be Jesus’ dad. That his job was to be Mary’s husband and to care for Mary and Jesus and their family. That wasn’t quite what Joseph had planned, but God changed his instructions and helped him build something he hadn’t even imagined.

Let’s pray. Dear God, often your plans are different than ours. Give us courage to change when you ask us to. Amen.

Message:

“If you want to make God laugh, tell God your plans.” Most of us, if we live long enough, understand the statement well. We’ve made plans. We’ve made plans around our education and vocation. We’ve made plans around what our family will be like and where we will live and the things we will do in life. We make plans all the time—whether intentionally or just daydreaming.

Planning is a good thing. It offers direction. Purpose. It helps us get out of bed. It allows us to take the first steps. It’s our unwavering and unbending attachment to the plan that ends up causing trouble. When we can’t see any other way but the way we designed. The process we wanted. Insisted upon, even. When we can’t dream of new possibilities, any chink in the original plan means death. We will fight against it until we destroy ourselves.

Joseph had a plan. He was going to take Mary as his wife. They were going to make a family together. They would have lots of kids who would learn his carpentry. He would raise his children and teach them the ways of God—to be faithful and obedient. They would bring him such joy and pride. And his wife would care for his home and his children. She would be faithful and obedient to him and to God—as was the way.

Matthew doesn’t give us insight into Mary’s encounter with the angel. We are just told that Joseph found out she was pregnant. And all of his dreams of a family with her fell to pieces. We know what that’s like. A job that didn’t work out. A relationship that fell apart. Illnesses and disappointments. Children who took paths we never imagined. Even good and healthy directions, when diverting from ‘the plan,’ can throw us into a tailspin.

And Joseph was spinning. He laid awake at night, trying to figure out what to do next. There were proper, legal ways to handle the situation. Ways that he just wasn’t comfortable with. Ways in which Mary’s life and the life within her would be in danger. No. He would let her go in secret. He would not offer her up to the courts. He would just move on and hope she would be safe.

“The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” It’s a phrase from poet Robert Burns’ “To A Mouse.” No matter how detailed we are with everything we think we can control, things still happen. But it’s not the plans we make that highlight our strength. It’s how we respond when outside forces crash into them.

The angel came to Joseph in a dream and told him of God’s plan—a plan that would show the world who God truly is for us. Like Mary, Joseph had an option. But he also trusted God’s plan more than his own. It meant shifting. Pivoting. Words we love to hate since COVID ransacked our best laid plans 6 years ago. It meant letting go—not of Mary, but of his own control.

We don’t hear anything more about Joseph beyond Jesus’ birth story. Given Mary’s continued connection with Jesus as an adult, we can assume Joseph died. We hear of Jesus’ sisters and brothers, so we can assume Mary and Joseph did have more children. But none of us would be here if Joseph hadn’t had the courage to say ‘yes.’ To offer his hand to Mary in solidarity. In accompaniment. To share in the unknown road ahead.

And that is truly one of the only certainties in life—that the path before us is not really ours to plan. That reality can make it very difficult to move forward. Our fear of the future has a way of stopping us in our tracks. Petrified.

I remember the first time I took a group of Catechism kids to camp for the summer. I chose to climb up on the high ropes course with the others in our group. And with very wobbly legs, we traversed the obstacles. But one girl from another group got stuck halfway across. She simply couldn’t move. Not forward. Not backward. So the kids closest to her gathered around and offered hands. They spoke words of encouragement. They cheered her on and helped her across.

Isn’t this our mission as Christ-followers in this world? Christianity isn’t about some moral code that demonizes some and glorifies others. It isn’t an effort to purify a people and force everyone to follow a plan devised by a few with power. To be a Christian is to offer a hand to someone who struggles—simply because we know what it’s like when plans fall apart. Because we need each other to remind us that we are not beyond God’s love and mercy and forgiveness and grace. Because no one should go through life feeling alone.

There is a story of a young boy who one day was trying to lift a heavy stone his father had asked him to move, but for the life of him could not budge it. As his father came by to check on his son’s progress, he could see the boy’s futility and exasperation over it and after watching him for a moment, finally asked his son the question, “Are you using all your strength?” If I were in that situation, that would be the last thing I would want to hear. “Are you using all your strength?”

Truly frustrated and at the brink of tears, the boy sobbed, “Yes, I am!” The father replied calmly, “No, you’re not. You haven’t asked me to help you.”

God has given us the blessing of God’s presence and the gift of one another. We will keep making plans. They will often go sideways. They will make God laugh. They will cause consternation and confusion. But we will keep moving forward. Together. If you are comfortable doing so, reach out to hold the hand of the person next to you or in front of you. Make sure no one is separated unless they choose. If you are not comfortable with holding another’s hand, simply place your hands over your heart as we pray.

God of Joseph and Mary, you know the plans you have for us—plans to bring life and joy and community. You don’t plan our every move, but we trust that you are with us every moment. Give us the courage to reach out—to offer a hand to those who struggle and to take the hand offered when we need guidance. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE