Sunday 28 December 2025 – (Year A)

These three readings proclaim God’s Word; let us prepare to listen and receive the Eucharist.

Isaiah 6:1–8

In the year King Uzziah died, Isaiah tells us, he saw the Lord.

That opening line is not a timestamp; it is a wound. Uzziah’s death marked the end of a long, stable reign. The nation was anxious. The future was uncertain. Leadership had faltered. The people were spiritually adrift. Isaiah’s vision begins in a moment of national grief and personal disorientation.

And it is precisely there; in the year of loss, in the year of transition, in the year of unravelling, that Isaiah sees God.

God Reveals Himself in Our Unsettled Seasons

Isaiah does not see God when everything is tidy. He sees God when the throne of Judah is empty. And in that moment, he discovers that while earthly thrones shake, heaven’s throne does not.

The Lord is “high and lifted up,” and the hem of His robe fills the temple. Isaiah cannot even see God fully, only the trailing edge of His glory. It is a reminder that even a glimpse of God is overwhelming enough to reorient a life.

Sometimes we long for God to speak into our clarity. But Scripture suggests He often speaks into our chaos. When our own “King Uzziah” dies, whatever that may be: a relationship, a certainty, a role, a season; we become strangely more open to the holy.

Holiness Awakens Us to Our Truth

The seraphim cry out, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty.” Their voices shake the foundations. Smoke fills the temple. The scene is not gentle; it is seismic.

And Isaiah’s response is not praise; it is confession.

“I am ruined. I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.”

Standing before holiness, Isaiah does not compare himself to others. He does not defend himself. He does not negotiate. He simply tells the truth. Holiness has a way of stripping away our illusions. It reveals both the beauty of God and the brokenness within us. And yet, this revelation is not meant to crush us. It is meant to prepare us.

God Heals What We Confess

One of the seraphim flies to Isaiah with a burning coal from the altar. The coal touches his lips, the very place of his confession, and the angel says, “Your guilt is taken away; your sin is forgiven.”

Notice the pattern:

• Isaiah confesses

• God cleanses

• Isaiah is commissioned

Grace does not ignore our wounds; it touches them. It purifies the very place we feel most unworthy. The coal is hot, but it is healing. It burns, but it restores. Many of us fear that if God truly saw us, He would turn away. Isaiah discovers the opposite: when God sees us truly, He moves toward us.

Forgiveness Leads to Calling

Only after Isaiah is cleansed does he hear the voice of the Lord: “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” God does not ask this question because He lacks messengers. He asks it to invite Isaiah into partnership. And Isaiah, who moments earlier felt ruined, now responds with courage:

“Here I am. Send me.”

Forgiveness transforms fear into availability. Grace turns trembling lips into willing lips. Isaiah’s calling is not rooted in his perfection but in God’s mercy.

There’s a story told in some African Christian communities about a potter who keeps a special bowl on his shelf. The bowl is cracked, uneven, and misshapen. Visitors often ask why he keeps such a flawed piece. The potter smiles and says, “This is the bowl that taught me how to make all the others.”

Isaiah is that bowl. His encounter with God does not erase his humanity; it consecrates it. His cracks become the place where God’s glory shines through.

1 John 1:6–9

The First Letter of John is written with a pastor’s heart. It is not abstract theology; it is a spiritual mirror. And in this passage, John holds that mirror up gently but firmly.

“We cannot say that we have fellowship with God if we are walking in darkness.”

John is not scolding. He is inviting. He is reminding the early Christian community, and us, that fellowship with God is not a matter of words but of direction. Not perfection, but orientation. Not flawless living, but honest living.

Light and Darkness

In Scripture, “darkness” is not simply wrongdoing. It is hiding. Concealment. Pretending. Living with parts of ourselves tucked away from God and from one another. And “light” is not simply virtue. It is exposure. Openness. Truthfulness. The willingness to be seen.

John is saying:

• You cannot walk with God while hiding from Him.

• You cannot walk with others while hiding from yourself.

Walking in the light is not about being sinless; it is about being honest.

Fellowship Is Born in the Light

“But if we walk in the light, we have fellowship with God, and with one another.”

Notice the order:

• Walking in the light leads to fellowship.

• Not the other way around.

Many communities try to build fellowship through shared interests, shared worship, shared activities. But John says true fellowship is born when people dare to be real.

A community of pretence is fragile. A community of confession is unbreakable.

When we walk in the light, we discover that God is not the only one who meets us there, others do too. Light creates belonging.

The Light Exposes Us to Grace

“And the sacrifice of Jesus cleanses us from all our transgressions.”

John does not say the light reveals our sins so that we can be condemned. He says the light reveals our sins so that Christ can cleanse them. The light is not a courtroom. It is a clinic. It is where wounds are treated, not displayed. Where guilt is lifted, not weaponised.

Confession Is a Return to Reality

“If we say we have done no wrong, we deceive ourselves.”

John is not concerned about God being deceived; God cannot be deceived. He is concerned about us being deceived. Self-deception is the most dangerous kind because it locks us in darkness while convincing us we are in the light.

“But if we confess…”

Confession is not grovelling. Confession is not humiliation. Confession is truth-telling. And truth-telling is the doorway to freedom.

“God is faithful and just, and will forgive us and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

Faithful: meaning God does not change His posture toward us. Just: meaning forgiveness is not a favour; it is God acting according to His character. God does not forgive reluctantly. God forgives reliably.

There is a story told of a young boy who broke a window while playing football. Terrified of punishment, he swept up the glass, hid the ball, and said nothing. For days he avoided his father: skipping meals, slipping out of rooms, keeping conversations short.

Finally, exhausted by the hiding, he confessed. His father sighed, knelt, and said, “Son, I knew the moment it happened. I was waiting for you to come so we could fix it together.” The boy discovered what John wants us to know:

• Hiding breaks fellowship.

• Confession restores it.

The father’s love had not changed. Only the boy’s willingness to step into the light had.

John 15:1–17

In John 15, Jesus speaks some of His most intimate words on the night before His death. These are not public teachings. They are whispered truths shared around a table with friends. And in this moment of impending loss, Jesus chooses an image that is earthy, tender, and deeply relational:

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the keeper of the vineyard.”

Jesus does not describe Himself as a fortress, a throne, or a general. He describes Himself as a vine: living, rooted, nourishing. And He describes us as branches: dependent, connected, capable of bearing fruit only through union with Him.

A Picture of Dependence, Not Deficiency

“As a branch cannot bear fruit unless it remains in the vine, neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.”

Jesus is not shaming His disciples. He is naming a truth of creation:

• Branches are not defective because they cannot bear fruit alone.

• They are simply branches.

We live in a world that prizes self-sufficiency. But Jesus invites us into a different kind of strength, the strength of connection. Fruitfulness is not the result of striving; it is the result of abiding. To remain in Christ is to draw life from Him the way a branch draws sap from the vine. It is to let His life flow into ours.

Pruning

“Every branch that does bear fruit, He prunes, so that it may bear more fruit.”

Pruning is not punishment. It is care.

A vine grower cuts away not only dead branches but also living shoots that drain energy from the fruit.

In our lives, pruning often looks like:

• letting go of habits that no longer serve us

• releasing roles or identities that once fit but now constrict

• surrendering illusions of control

• allowing God to cut away what is good so that something better can grow

Pruning hurts because it involves loss. But it is a loss that leads to abundance.

There’s a story of a gardener who noticed that one of his rose bushes produced many leaves but few blooms. He pruned it back so severely that a neighbour said, “You’ve killed it.” But the next season, the bush exploded with roses, more than ever before.

Sometimes God’s pruning feels like reduction. But in His hands, it is preparation.

Remaining

“Remain in me, as I remain in you.”

Jesus does not say, “Visit me occasionally.” He says, “Remain.”

Remaining is not passive. It is a daily choice to stay rooted in Christ’s love, Christ’s words, Christ’s way.

It is the slow, steady work of:

• prayer

• listening

• obedience

• community

• forgiveness

• returning repeatedly when we drift

Remaining is the spiritual equivalent of breathing: quiet, constant, life-giving.

A Radical Reorientation

“I do not call you servants any longer… I have called you friends.”

This is one of the most astonishing statements in the Gospel. A servant obeys without understanding. A friend is invited into the heart of the master. Jesus is not building an empire; He is building a circle of friendship. He shares His Father’s heart, His mission, His joy. He chooses us, not because we are worthy, but because He is loving.

“You did not choose me, but I chose you.”

In a world where people are often valued for their usefulness, Jesus values us for our belonging.

Love One Another

“This is my commandment: that you love one another as I have loved you.”

• Not “love one another as you find comfortable.”

• Not “love one another as they deserve.”

• But “as I have loved you.”

And how has He loved us?

• With patience.

• With sacrifice.

• With tenderness.

• With truth.

• With a willingness to lay down His life.

There is a story told of a vineyard in Italy where the workers, after harvest, would gather the leftover grapes and press them together. The wine made from this mixture was called vino dell’amicizia, the wine of friendship, because it came from many grapes becoming one.

This is the kind of love Jesus envisions: a love that blends lives, shares burdens, and creates something beautiful together.

Fruit That Will Last

“I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.”

What is lasting fruit?

• Not achievements.

• Not accolades.

• Not influence.

Lasting fruit is love lived out in ordinary, faithful ways:

• the kindness that heals a wound

• the forgiveness that breaks a cycle

• the courage to stand with the vulnerable

• the generosity that restores dignity

• the presence that comforts the lonely

These are the fruits that endure beyond our lifetime.

Conclusion

Isaiah’s story is not about a prophet who was ready. It is about a God who makes people ready.

In the year that King Uzziah died, Isaiah saw the Lord. In the year that Isaiah saw the Lord, he saw himself.

In the year that Isaiah saw himself, he was healed. And in the year he was healed, he was sent.

May we, too, see God in our unsettled seasons. May we tell the truth about our unclean places. May we feel the coal of grace upon our lips. And may we find the courage to say, “Here I am. Send me.”

John’s message is simple but revolutionary:

• Do not hide.

• Do not pretend.

• Do not fear the light.

Because the One who meets us in the light is faithful. The One who meets us in the light is just. The One who meets us in the light is ready to cleanse, restore, and renew.

May we be a people who walk in the light; not because we are perfect, but because we trust the One who forgives.

John 15 is not a list of demands. It is an invitation into a way of being:

• Remain in Christ.

• Receive His love.

• Allow His pruning.

• Live as His friend.

• Bear fruit through love.

Jesus ends with this promise: “All this I say so that my joy may be in you, and your joy may be complete.” Joy is the harvest of abiding. Love is the fruit of friendship with Christ. And a life rooted in Him becomes a vineyard of grace for others.