St. John’s Episcopal Church
Tallahassee, FL

Isaiah 11:1–10
Matthew 3:1–12
Romans 15:4–13

Lord have mercy, 
what a fiery gospel we have today,
which is fitting because
as I told you last week
this is the holy season
of Advent.

Advent is so often pictured
as a quiet, gentle time:
soft candles,
whispered prayers,
the hush of expectation.

But oh no.
Pay attention . . .
because Advent 
is anything but timid.

Like the prophets of old—
like John the Baptist 
and Isaiah before him—
Advent has an edge.
Advent has a boldness.
Advent is about holy disruption . . .
a time to rouse us, rally us,
and force us make room
for the big things
God has in store.

So first, 
let’s walk through the scriptures,
and then let’s see 
what it all means for us.

* * *

First up: Isaiah.
This morning Isaiah gives us
one of the most beautiful images
in all of Scripture.

I’m not actually talking about 
the well-loved vision
of the wolf with the lamb
or the little child leading them all . . .
but the opening line we so often miss:

“A shoot shall come out
from the stump of Jesse,
and a branch shall grow
out of his roots.”

A stump? 
A stump.

Not pretty.
Not promising.
Not much to look at.

In his own day, 
Isaiah was pointing his people
to the stump of King David’s line: 
a royal house seemingly 
cut down,
burned out,
finished.

And yet, Isaiah dares to claim
that Someone will rise from those roots . . . 
a Messiah,
the One who will restore 
wisdom,
and righteousness,
and justice,
and peace.

Maybe some of you
have battled stumps before.
Crepe myrtles—
the bane of Southern horticulture—
are notorious for sending up shoots
from places you were certain were dead.

Turns out, 
where there are roots, 
there’s a good chance there’s life.

Here at St. John’s, 
we like to say that 
St. John’s has “deep roots.”
But our roots are not just deep;
they are alive.

And these days,
the roots are growing 
and the shoots are showing:
new families,
new children,
new members,
new hunger for community,
new energy in worship,
new faces every single Sunday.

These are signs of life . . .
evidence that Jesus is drawing forth in us
something beautiful and new.

* * *

Then we turn 
to John the Baptist: 
loud,
unapologetic,
and completely unwilling
to let us stay comfortable.

“Prepare the way of the Lord!” he yells.
Why? Because whenever God 
does something new,
God’s people have to prepare . . . 

God’s people have to 
clear a path.
Adjust.
Make room
for the shape of the life
God is bringing.

Whether we like it or not,
believing in a God 
who is on the move
means being ready
to move ourselves.

This is yet another reason
why this holy season
is more about discomfort and change
than it is about quiet and calm.

And if Advent, Isaiah, and John
all tell us that God is on the move,
Paul tells us in Romans today 
what such preparation actually looks like:

“Welcome one another
as Christ has welcomed you.”

Sometimes the best way to 
prepare the way of the Lord
is not with dramatic acts
or shouting in the wilderness,
but by making room
to welcome others
into the life we have found 
together in Christ.

* * *

Which brings us
to something important
in our common life at St. John’s.

For years now,
your Vestry and I
have watched closely
the patterns of our parish life:

pew usage,
parking strain,
nursery attendance, 
Sunday school timing,
worship capacity, 
and attendance trends.

Most Sundays at 10:00,
our nave is full.

And decades of well-established research—
confirmed by our own experience—
tell us that once a church reaches
the 80% threshold of comfort capacity,
people begin to feel crowded, 
even when seats remain.

Friends, we are well past that point.

At this size and stage,
a congregation cannot stand still . . . 
not because of pressure to grow,
but because of the dynamics
of community life.

This is the “unstable intermediate.”
You either compress,
or you make room
for a new, healthy stability.

We are choosing
to make room.

That is why, back in May 2024,
the Vestry approved
moving to an expanded worship schedule.
The only question was timing.

And the faithful moment—
the moment of 
clarity, 
stewardship, 
and readiness—
is now.

January.
A new year.
A new rhythm.
A new season that invites 
new beginnings.

So beginning January 11,
our Sunday morning
will take on a renewed shape—
the last piece of our pre-Covid rhythm
to return—
a pattern designed
to make room
for the life God is giving us
and to establish a healthy foundation
for the decade ahead.

Here is the vision:

7:45 a.m. — Holy Eucharist, Rite I
Quiet, traditional service with organ music 

9 a.m. — Holy Eucharist, Rite II
Lively, family-friendly service 
with choir, choristers, and children’s chapel

10:15 a.m. — Sunday School, All Ages

11:15 a.m. — Holy Eucharist, Rite II
A joyful service with incense, chant, 
and beautiful choral music

This is not about chasing numbers.
We are not becoming St. John’s Megachurch
with lasers, fog machines,
or worship bands on ziplines.

This is about stability.
Health.
Room to breathe.
Room to welcome.
Room to grow sustainably
in the heart of this city.

Because part of our vocation
as a downtown parish
is to offer space, beauty, belonging, and grace
to all whom God sends through our doors.

* * *

* * *

Friends,
this is a faithful step
for St. John’s.

It is thoughtful.
It is grounded in research
and in prayer.
It is shaped by our mission
to be a welcoming spiritual community
rooted in deep tradition
and alive with grace.

And it is rooted
in the deepest truth of Advent:

that God is doing a new thing
in this place.
The roots are deep.
The shoots are rising.

And now we prepare room—
for one another,
for those yet to come,
and above all
for Christ our Lord,
who draws ever nearer
in joy,
in hope,
and in abundant grace.

This is our Advent calling.
This is our chance
to prepare the way
together.

Amen.