Hello friends,
This is Mark Gladman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in docks,
Welcoming you to Day 12 of our Advent 2025 series,
Waiting with Matthew.
Today our focus verse comes from Matthew chapter 2 verses 19 and 20,
Where Matthew writes,
When Herod died,
An angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said,
Get up,
Take the child and his mother and go.
I invite you as we begin today to pause,
Sit,
Close your eyes,
Breathe deeply in and out.
To give this moment yourself and this time together to God as we open our ears,
Our minds and our hearts to what the Spirit might be speaking to us today.
Now,
I want to make it clear that I'm aware there's a particular kind of waiting that strips us bare.
Not the waiting of boredom and not the waiting of frustration,
But the waiting for safety.
In that kind of waiting,
You don't plan,
You don't dream too far ahead,
You hold your breath a little.
You look for signs that the world has softened,
You become more careful,
Measured,
Attentive.
And the Holy Family knows this waiting intimately.
After fleeing to Egypt,
They settle into a life that isn't theirs.
They don't know the language fully.
They don't know how long the danger is going to last.
They don't know if the darkness that they left behind might find them again somehow.
Their days are shaped about the question,
Is it safe yet?
Is it safe yet?
And Matthew tells the story quietly,
Without drama and without elaboration.
But between the lines,
You can almost hear the ache of displacement.
The daily wondering of when God's promise will unfold beyond just simply surviving.
And then,
Without warning,
The moment changes.
Matthew writes,
When Herod died.
Those three words end a reign of violence.
Those three words shift the entire story.
They're three words that Joseph doesn't witness firsthand,
Doesn't confirm,
And doesn't deduce.
Instead,
God comes again.
This time,
Not with a warning,
But with release.
An angel of the Lord suddenly appeared,
Matthew writes,
And said,
Get up.
Take the child and his mother and go.
Now yesterday,
We considered Joseph's obedience in the night.
But today,
The scripture invites us to pay attention to something different.
The inner world of someone who has waited for danger to pass.
And the spiritual maturity required to recognize the moment when safety returns.
Waiting for safety changes you.
Sometimes so deeply that when safety finally comes,
It's difficult to believe it.
I'm sure some of you have been there.
Safety finally comes,
And it's difficult to trust it.
It's difficult to step towards it.
And Joseph's been living in a posture of vigilance.
And now,
God's asking him to shift,
To rise again.
This time,
Not for escape,
But for return.
And this is far more difficult than it appears.
And I'm sure,
Again,
There are many who are listening right now who can verify that.
You see,
To return after exile,
You have to let go of the identity formed in fear.
You have to learn to walk without checking over your shoulder.
You have to let hope stretch again inside you.
You have to trust that the threat has truly passed,
Even when your body still remembers it.
And here's the thing about safety.
It doesn't always feel safe at first.
Trauma echoes,
Fear lingers in the muscles,
And the invitation of God to rise,
To go,
To step back into life can almost feel too vulnerable.
Scripture tells us that Joseph rises without hesitation.
But hidden within the simplicity of that sentence is a whole world of spiritual courage.
Because returning to safety isn't the same as leaving danger.
Leaving danger requires urgency.
Returning requires trust.
Leaving danger asks for quick obedience,
But returning asks for deep,
Deep discernment.
And so Joseph listens.
He receives the dream as gift and direction.
He allows himself to imagine a life beyond exile.
He begins to believe that God has made a way,
That spiritual life includes this moment for all of us.
The moment when God calls us out of the posture of survival and invites us into the tenderness of renewal.
But renewal comes slowly.
Safety unfolds gradually like light at dawn.
It begins in faint edges before it fills the sky.
And perhaps the deepest work of this passage is this.
Joseph has to let the promise be stronger than the memory.
He must let the future speak louder than the fear.
He has to let God's timing,
Not his dread,
Shape his next step.
And so really the text offers us a paradox.
God's protection led the holy family into Egypt and God's protection now leads them out again.
Safety in this passage is not a place,
It's a movement,
A guidance,
A relationship.
Safety is wherever the God who speaks in dreams is leading.
And this really reshapes how we understand our own waiting.
Because waiting for safety isn't passive.
It's a posture of hope held in tension with vulnerability.
It's a readiness to move when the spirit whispers,
Even if the spirit comes after years of silence.
Joseph models a heart that stays awake,
Able to recognize God's voice not only in crisis but also in restoration.
Because restoration also requires obedience.
We need God's guidance just as much in peace as we do in danger,
Maybe even more.
The return journey is just as holy as the flight.
And so today's scripture invites a question we don't often ask.
And that is,
Where is God saying,
Rise again in your life?
Where is he nudging you to step out of the shadows you've grown accustomed to?
Where is God inviting you to trust that the danger has passed,
Even if part of you is still braced for impact?
Where have you been surviving for so long that safety feels unfamiliar?
God is patient with this.
God never pressures.
God invites,
Whispers,
Waits until your heart is ready to hear the angel say,
Get up and go.
Waiting for safety is a season.
It's not a sentence.
It will not define you forever.
God will call you forward when the time is right,
Not too early,
But also not too late.
At the perfect intersection of readiness and grace.
And when that moment comes,
When your Egypt season is complete,
You will rise with Joseph.
You will return with hope and the God who guided you in danger will guide you into peace.
So as we hold those things that may have been stirred,
Have risen up.
Let me hold them with you gently as we share this prayer together.
God of shelter and God of return.
You know the seasons when we live cautiously.
The moments when fear shapes our breath.
The long stretches of waiting for the world to become safe again.
Speak to us as you spoke to Joseph.
Unfold your timing with gentleness.
Let your whisper be stronger than our worry.
Teach us how to rise when you call.
Not in panic,
Not in haste,
But with quiet confidence that you lead us forward.
Towards life.
Hold us in every exile.
Lead us toward every homecoming.
And help us trust that your protection never leaves us.
Not for a single moment.
Amen.
And so as we rise from our time in reflection and contemplation today.
May you sense God's nearness in every place you wait for safety.
May you recognise the moment grace says rise.
Your season is shifting.
May you walk toward peace with a courage you didn't know you had.
And may grace,
Greater peace and love be with you and go with you every step you take.
On that walk.
Amen.
Go gently my friends.
Grace and peace be with you.
Until tomorrow.
Bye for now.
