A Place of Simplicity - Romans 15:12-13 & Luke 1:26-38
A Place of Simplicity
Romans 15:12-13 & Luke 1:26-38
Rev. Dr. Rhonda Abbott Blevins
December 14, 2025
and again Isaiah says,
“The root of Jesse shall come,
the one who rises to rule the gentiles;
in him the gentiles shall hope.”
13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
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In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27 to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. 28 And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” 29 But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. 30 The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31 And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. 32 He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. 33 He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” 34 Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” 35 The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. 36 And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. 37 For nothing will be impossible with God.” 38 Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.
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Today we find ourselves celebrating the third Sunday of Advent. Two Advent candles were already lighted today, the candles of hope and peace, and today we lighted the third Advent candle—the candle of joy.
The third Sunday of Advent stands out visually—literally—with its rose or pink candle standing in contrast to the purple candles for the other Sundays in Advent. This isn’t just about adding a pop of color to our wreath; it’s a theological statement. That pink candle, traditionally called the "Gaudete candle" from the Latin word for "rejoice," marks a shift in our Advent journey. We’ve moved through longing and peace, and now we’re close enough to Christmas to catch a glimpse of what’s coming. The darkness is still here, but the light is getting closer. We’re not quite at the full celebration yet—that’s why it’s pink, not white or gold—but we can’t contain our joy any longer. It’s like being a kid on December 23rd who knows Christmas morning is almost here. That pink candle says: hold on, keep watching, because joy is on the horizon. We light it as a reminder that even in seasons of waiting, even when the world feels heavy, we are people who have reason to rejoice. The one we’ve been longing for is almost here.
So on this, the traditional “Joy” Sunday in our Advent journey, I asked you to write down and submit your answers to the question, “What brings you joy?” If you’re like me, it actually sparked a bit of joy to engage in this exercise. Was that true for you as well? I’d like to take a few moments to read some of your responses . . .
It seems to me that most of these responses have something important in common . . . it’s the simplest things in life that bring us the most joy. Joy is seeing our kids and grandkids healthy, happy and thriving. Joy is meaningful conversation and laughter with a good friend. Joy is feeling the wind on our cheeks when cycling the Pinellas Trail. Joy is listening to good music. Joy is seeing the beauty in one of our amazing Clearwater sunsets, the silhouette of seagulls and ospreys against the deep orange sun. Joy is getting absorbed in a good book. Let’s put it this way:
Joy isn’t found in the extraordinary experiences we’re constantly pursuing; it’s been hiding in plain sight in the ordinary moments we’ve been rushing past.
Joy in the ordinary. As we shift to thinking about our scripture lesson today, we are reminded that history’s greatest joy came from the most ordinary of places—the nowhere town called Nazareth.
Nazareth was the kind of place people made jokes about. When Philip told Nathanael that he’d found the Messiah—Jesus of Nazareth—Nathanael’s response was immediate and cutting: "Can anything good come from Nazareth?” (John 1:46) It wasn’t really a question; it was a dismissal. Nazareth was small, insignificant, off the beaten path—a backwater town that nobody important came from. It had no reputation, no prestige, no claim to fame. If you were going to bet on where the Messiah would be born, Nazareth wouldn’t even make the list. Jerusalem? Sure. Bethlehem? That made sense—it was the city of David, after all. But Nazareth? Please. Yet that’s exactly where God chose to plant the seeds of the world’s greatest joy. Not in the power centers, not in the places of privilege and prestige, but in the overlooked, the ordinary, the place nobody expected.
And isn’t that exactly how God works? Dropping into the places in our lives where we would least expect Divinity to be. Ordinary places. Shadow places. Broken places.
What a surprising God we serve!
I love the element of surprise throughout the Christmas narrative. Last week we remembered the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth—the surprise visit from the angel Gabriel who told Zechariah that Elizabeth would give birth in her old age.
Today we read about that same angel visiting a young virgin Mary, that she too would give birth to a son—which must have been surprising for the virgin Mary to hear! “How can this be?” she asks. Reasonable question, right? But there’s more. Listen again to what the angel says about him:
“He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”
He will have a throne. He will reign. He will have a kingdom that will never end.
This extraordinary promise—this extraordinary baby boy—emanating from the most ordinary and simplest of places—Nazareth.
“Can anything good come from Nazareth?” Nathanel asked Philip. It turns out that is answer is a resounding YES!
As we think about how we serve a God who drops into the places in our lives where we would least expect Divinity to be—ordinary places, shadow places, broken places—I invite you to consider that God drops into YOUR ordinary places, your shadow places, your broken places.
I invite you to consider one of those ordinary or shadow or broken places in your life even now. Give me a thumbs up when you have something in mind.
Now hold that alongside Nathanael’ question to Philip: “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” Let’s apply this to our ordinary, shadow, broken places. Can anything good come from your ordinary place? Your shadow place? Your broken place?
The answer my friend, is a resounding YES!
That’s the crux of our faith in fact. It’s the story of resurrection. Birth. Death. New life. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Not just in the life of Jesus but in every child of God. Birth. Death. New life.
If there is a dying—in the ordinary, the shadow, the brokenness—then the hope and peace and pure JOY of our faith is that there is a rebirth.
Biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann describes this pattern as the rhythm of orientation, disorientation, and reorientation—and it’s woven throughout Scripture and throughout our lives. Orientation is when life feels stable, when things make sense, when we know where we stand. Then comes disorientation—the disruption, the loss, the shadow place, the breaking. This is where we find ourselves asking, "How can this be?" just like Mary did. It’s the place of exile, of wilderness, of waiting in the dark. But the story doesn’t end there. God meets us in our disorientation and brings reorientation—new life emerging from what felt dead, hope springing from despair, joy breaking through in the last place we expected to find it. This isn’t just a one-time event; it’s the ongoing rhythm of faith. We move through these cycles again and again throughout our lives. And here’s the beautiful truth: the disorientation, the breaking, the ordinary and shadow places—these aren’t interruptions to God’s work in our lives. They’re often the very places where God does the most transformative work, where new life takes root, where unexpected joy is born.[1]
A few years ago my family went out west and spent some time in the desert. One of the things I love about the desert is the surprising hope and tenacity of the desert wildflowers that somehow find a way to bloom . . . they emerge from thicket and dust and barrenness and find a way to live into themselves against all odds, determined to let their beauty shine. I took this photo while we were there. Against a backdrop of the parched landscape, look how absolutely radiant these blooms are.
Look, I’m not saying the desert isn’t a harsh place. I’m not saying that the ordinary, the shadow, the broken places in our lives are a walk in the park. What I am saying is this: if the kingdom of God can burst forth into the world from such a simple, ordinary place of Nazareth, then the kingdom of God can burst forth from the barren, broken, shadow places of your life as well. And that, my friends, is something to celebrate when it comes to fruition. It’s something to remember in the dormant, fallow times as we await the blooming.
This truth gives me great joy, and I hope it gives you great joy as well on this Gaudete Sunday—this third Sunday of Advent.
So as we continue our journey toward Bethlehem this week, may you find joy in the ordinary moments that surround you. May you trust that God is at work in your shadow places, your broken places, preparing something beautiful you cannot yet see. And may you remember that the same God who chose Nazareth—who brought life from barrenness and light from darkness—is choosing you, right now, right where you are.
Can anything good come from your Nazareth?
The answer is yes. A thousand times, yes.
[1] Brueggemann, Walter. Spirituality of the Psalms. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002.