Ad Te Levavi

It is perhaps strange that the text for the first Sunday in Advent and the beginning of the Christian year comes from the end of Jesus’ ministry, his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Chronologically, this passage about Palm Sunday seems out of place here at the beginning of all things. Yet the ancient church fathers in their wisdom saw fit to read these words today.

“Say to the daughter of Zion, ‘Behold, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden’ ” (Mt 21:5). These words, originally spoken by the prophet Zechariah under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, express the core tenet of the Christian faith. “Your king comes to you.” This is the whole Gospel. From beginning to end, from Advent to Holy Week, these words serve as bookends to the message of salvation. “Your king comes to you.”

It is wonderful to consider that you are included in this message. The Gospel is deeply personal. Salvation is for you: “Your king comes to you.” But it’s even more wonderful to consider what you are doing to bring about that salvation. Think about the words, “Your king comes to you,” and tell me what you are doing in the sentence. Nothing. Are you coming to your king? Are you seeking God? Are you doing something, anything? No. Nothing. This is the heart of the Gospel, and what makes Christianity, the true religion, stand apart from every counterfeit.

Last night my goddaughter was born again through the saving water of Holy Baptism. She’s not even two weeks old. What did she do to contribute to her second birth? Pretty much the same thing she did to contribute to her first birth. Nothing. Someone else did all the work. “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Behold, your king comes to you with salvation” (Zech 9:9).

Christians are often fond of taking spiritual temperature checks. “Am I truly a believer? Do I love God for His own sake or because of all His blessing? Am I closer to God today than I was a year ago?” These questions are hardly ever cause for rejoicing, because when you examine your own heart, you’re not going to like what you find. I’ll tell you what is cause for rejoicing: While you were dead in trespasses and sins, Christ made you alive (Eph 2:5). While you were yet far off, you were brought near through the blood of Christ (Eph 2:13). While you were enemies of God, you were reconciled to Him through the death of His Son (Rom 5:10). In other words, “Rejoice, daughter of Zion! Your king comes to you.”

The devil cannot undo the work of Christ for your salvation. It stands finished and nothing can change that fact. But the devil will do his best to undo it in your thinking. He is is an expert at teaching Christians to talk and behave as though they did the work of salvation. Listen to many people talk about their conversion and you will hear such things as, “I decided to follow Christ. I gave my life to Jesus. I changed my ways. I found God”—as though God were the one who was lost. I, I, I. Many Christians speak this way, and it always leads to doubt. But when you read Scripture or listen to the saints of old, you’ll discover that they did not speak this way. The word “I” really has no place in the account of your salvation. Instead, you’ll find the word “me.” What’s the difference? It might seem like a small thing, but it’s not. It’s all about who is doing the action, the work of salvation.

I did not decide to follow Christ. He called me to Himself by the Gospel. I did not give my life to Jesus. He gave His life for me. I did not change my heart. The Holy Spirit created a clean heart within me. I did not find God. The Bible says that there is none that seeks Him. He sought and found me. I did not and cannot make my way up to heaven. If God required this from me, it would be terrible news and basically a guarantee of hell. The gospel, the good news, is the opposite of climbing up to heaven. Rejoice, daughter of Zion. Your king comes to you. Every other religion tells you how to climb up to its god. Christianity alone tells you of the true God who comes down to man, down to sinners who cannot choose Him, who cannot love Him, who cannot even desire Him. When Jesus rode in to Jerusalem, He knew that he would be murdered before the end of the week. He rode in anyway. And that is the story of your conversion. Your king came to you, knowing that your sin would cost Him His life. He loved you when you did not, when you could not love Him.

We often seem desperate to credit ourselves with some part of our salvation. “Yes, it’s the work of Christ, but I have to make a choice, right?” Wrong. Dead people, whether physically dead or spiritually dead can’t choose anything. Lazarus didn’t choose to be resurrected, and neither did you. God chose you. “Well then, I have to repent.” But repentance does not originate from man. It is the gift of God. So we might say, “But after God leads me to repentance, I have to have faith. After all, faith is necessary for salvation.” Yes, and faith also is the gift of God. I suppose that if someone truly insists on taking credit for some small part, we might concede: “Ok. There is something that you contributed to your salvation. You contributed sin and hostility toward God.” But that’s it. Everything else comes from God, and that is great news. Why? Because if He left part of salvation up to us, we could never be sure of heaven. I’m a sinner. You’re a sinner. If even 1% of being saved depended on our efforts, we would certainly mess it up. But thanks be to God, our salvation is assured by the work of Christ alone. Rejoice, daughter of Zion! Your king comes to you. The reason the Gospel is good news is because it tells us not what we must do, but what Christ has already done. It is truly a cause for rejoicing because everything that needed to be done so you could enter heaven has already been done. You didn’t come to Christ. He comes to you, and He brings you His righteousness and salvation.

Today, as one year comes to an end and a new Church year begins, we listen to the words that are both the beginning and the end of the Christian message. We rejoice to hear that the work of salvation is fully accomplished, even as we prepare our hearts to receive our King. Yes, Advent is a season of repentance, a time to renew our focus on Christ and his coming. And yet, this is ever our task on earth, to wait with joyful hope for the Advent of our King. There is never a time in this life when we will cease to live in repentance and faith. Rejoice! Your king comes to you! This is what Christians in every age have done, and will continue to do until the Final Day. And so we pray with hope and joy, “Come, Lord Jesus!” Amen.