Mass in the Morning
24 December 2025
Come quickly, don’t delay
This morning,
the Church stands at the very edge of Christmas.
We are no longer speaking about what will happen “someday.” We are speaking about what is about to happen.
That urgency is captured beautifully in the Collect we prayed:
“Come quickly, we pray, Lord Jesus, and do not delay.”
That prayer is not impatience.
It is trust.
It is the cry of people who know they need saving
and believe that God will keep His promises.
The first reading takes us back nearly a thousand years before the birth of Christ, to King David.
David has reached a moment of rest.
His enemies are subdued.
He has a palace.
And suddenly, something troubles him:
he lives in comfort
while the Ark of God dwells in a tent.
So David decides to do something generous for God:
to build Him a house.
But God interrupts him.
God reminds David that He has been the one doing the building all along.
Do you ever catch yourself doing that?
I mean…
God took David from the pasture.
God made him king.
God gave him rest.
And then God makes a promise that will reshape history:
“The Lord will make you a house… your house and your kingdom shall endure forever.”
In the Bible, a “house” does not mean a building.
It means a dynasty.
A family line.
God promises that David’s kingship will not end with him.
It will endure forever.
At the time,
that promise must have seemed impossible.
Israel’s history after David is filled with division, failure, exile, and collapse.
The throne disappears.
The kingdom falls.
And for centuries,
the promise, at best, seems delayed.
But delay is not denial.
That promise comes rushing back into view in today’s Gospel.
Yesterday, we read the Magnificat,
that ancient prayer of Mother Mary that is a hallmark of Vespers, or Evening Prayer.
Zechariah, once struck silent for his doubt,
now bursts into praise.
His song is the Benedictus,
the prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours for, Laudes, or Morning Prayer.
And it is not just a prayer of thanksgiving for his son John.
It is a proclamation that God has kept His word.
“He has raised up a mighty savior for us
in the house of David his servant.”
Zechariah recognizes that the promise made to David is no longer abstract.
It is becoming flesh and blood.
God’s salvation is no longer distant.
It is near enough to be named, touched, and held.
But notice something important.
Zechariah does not pretend that everything is suddenly easy.
He speaks honestly about the human condition:
“We dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.”
That line matters.
Salvation does not come because the darkness has disappeared. Salvation comes into the darkness.
And how does it come?
Through what Zechariah calls
“the tender compassion of our God.”
Not force.
Not anger.
Not domination.
But compassion.
The Greek word Luke uses here speaks of deep, gut-level mercy…
the kind that moves God to act.
This compassion does not hover at a distance.
It visits us.
It takes on our condition.
It enters our history.
That is why Zechariah says the dawn from on high will break upon us,
not to condemn those in darkness, but:
“to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
This brings us back to the Collect for today.
“Come quickly… and do not delay.”
We pray that
not because God has forgotten us,
but because we are ready.
Ready to be guided.
Ready to be healed.
Ready to receive what only God can give.
On this final morning of Advent,
the Church reminds us that Christmas is not merely the celebration of a birth long ago.
It is the fulfillment of a promise made across centuries.
A promise spoken to David.
Sung by Zechariah.
And now, fulfilled in Christ.
If you find yourself dwelling in darkness
—uncertainty, grief, fear, exhaustion—
today’s readings speaks directly to you.
God has not abandoned His promises.
God has not forgotten His people.
God is coming:
gently, compassionately, faithfully.
And He is coming quickly.
So today
we pray with confidence and longing:
Come, Lord Jesus.
Do not delay.
Guide our feet into the way of peace.