23.06.2026
Saint Francis
Rev. Christian Jennert, Bridge Pastor
Sermon Festival of St. John the Baptist (Observed)
June 21, 2026
Malachi 3:1–4 | Acts 13:13–26 | Luke 1:57–67
Let us pray. Almighty God, by your gracious providence your servant John the Baptist was born to Elizabeth and Zechariah. Grant to your people the wisdom to see your purpose and the openness to hear your will, that the light of Christ may increase in us, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and friend, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.
This morning feels a little bit like Advent in the middle of summer. We are observing the Feast of St. John the Baptist a few days early. The actual feast falls on Wednesday, June 24—exactly six months before Christmas Eve.That timing is no accident.
The Church has long celebrated John's birth six months before the birth of Christ. And this feast comes just as we pass the longest day of the year. Summer begins. The daylight stretches late into the evening. Yet from this point forward, however gradually, the days begin to grow shorter. Six months from now, on Christmas Eve, we will gather again near the darkest time of the year. And from that point forward the light will begin to increase.
The ancient Church saw in this pattern something profoundly beautiful. John's feast comes as the light begins to decrease. Christ's feast comes as the light begins to increase. As though creation itself were proclaiming John's words:
"He must increase, but I must decrease."
That is John's vocation. He is not the light. He points to the light. And perhaps that is why these readings sound so much like Advent. John the Baptist has a way of bringing Advent wherever he goes. For John is always preparing the way.
The prophet Malachi announces:
"See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me."
Centuries later, Luke tells us of John's birth. Before Jesus is born, John is born. Before the Savior arrives, a messenger appears. Before the road is traveled, someone prepares the way. And in our reading from Acts, Paul recounts the story of God's people and reminds his listeners that before Jesus came, John came. The messenger arrives because the Messiah is near.
Again and again throughout Scripture we find this pattern. God prepares before God acts. God forms people before God sends them. God creates space before something new can emerge. And often that preparation happens quietly. No one looking at Elizabeth and Zechariah would have imagined that God's future was unfolding in their household. They were faithful people. They were elderly. They had long ago given up hope of having a child. Yet God was already at work. What appears to be an ordinary birth turns out to be the beginning of something extraordinary.
Luke tells us that when the child is finally named John, Zechariah's speech is restored. For months Zechariah has lived in silence. Perhaps that silence was more than a punishment. Perhaps it was preparation. Before Zechariah could speak God's word, he had to learn to listen. Before he could proclaim God's promises, he had to trust them. Sometimes God does holy work during seasons when very little seems to be happening.
I suspect many of us know something about those seasons. There are seasons of waiting. Seasons of uncertainty. Seasons when we wish we could see farther down the road than we can. Yet Scripture reminds us that waiting is not the same thing as inactivity. God is often doing some of God's deepest work precisely while we wait.
Fog works that way. Do you love the fog? I do. Mari Chris and I recently moved back to SF and we love the fog. Especially the morning fog. You cannot see everything clearly in the fog. The landscape is still emerging. The details are not yet fully visible. Yet the light is unmistakably present. Faith often feels like that. You do not always know exactly where the road will lead. You cannot always see around the next bend. Yet God has already begun to illumine the path before you. Perhaps that is part of what John teaches us. His task is not to be the destination. His task is to point toward the One who is coming.
In many ways, John the Baptist is the Church's first interim pastor. His entire ministry is transitional. He does not point people to himself. He does not seek to build his own following. He does not become the center of the story. Instead, he spends his life helping others become ready for what God is about to do next. John’s message is remarkably simple: Prepare the way. Make room. And: Pay attention. God is drawing near.
One of the temptations during seasons of transition is to assume that everything must be put on hold until the next chapter begins. Congregations sometimes fall into a kind of waiting mode. Decisions are postponed. New ideas are shelved. Ministry slows down. People tell themselves, "We'll do that when the next pastor arrives." Yet that is not how John understands preparation. For John, preparing the way is not passive waiting. It is active, hopeful, faithful work. Think of it more like decking the house for Christmas —hanging the lights, putting up the tree, making room for the celebration that is coming. The road is being built before the traveler arrives. The messenger is already at work before the Messiah appears.
And perhaps that is one of the gifts of this season at St. Francis.
What I have noticed is not a congregation standing still. Quite the opposite. There is worship and learning. There is outreach and service. There are new relationships being formed. There are conversations about the future. Refreshed spaces envisioned. There is discernment and prayer and ministry happening all around us.
In many ways, this congregation is more active than ever. That may seem surprising during a pastoral transition, but perhaps it should not. Because the Church does not belong to a pastor. The Church belongs to Jesus Christ. And the Holy Spirit does not stop working while a call process is underway.
If anything, this season has reminded us that God is already at work among us. Preparing the way. Opening new possibilities. Creating new relationships. Shaping us for whatever comes next. That is exactly what John was doing. Not standing still. Not waiting passively. But preparing the way with confidence that God was already moving ahead of him.
That is what Malachi prophesies. That is what Paul proclaims. God has not forgotten God's promises. Even after generations of waiting, God is still at work. Not always according to our timetable. Not always in ways we expect. But always with faithfulness.
The Collect for today asks God to grant us "the wisdom to see your purpose and the openness to hear your will." What a beautiful prayer for the Church. Not that we would have all the answers. Not that we could see every step of the journey. But that we would have eyes to recognize where God is already at work. And hearts open enough to follow.
Today we gather at the longest days of the year. The light lingers. The evening comes slowly. And John the Baptist stands before us once again, pointing beyond himself toward Christ. Perhaps that is his final gift to us. To remind us that Advent is not only a season in December. Advent is a way of life. The Church is always waiting. Always watching. Always preparing. Always looking for signs that Christ is drawing near. And like John the Baptist, we are called to point beyond ourselves to the One who comes bringing light into every darkness, hope into every uncertainty, and life into every place longing for renewal.
May the light of Christ increase in us.
Amen.
