Preaching Advent with Karl
A Guide for Preachers this Advent
About the author: Henry Walter Spaulding III is Editorial Assistant for the Center for Barth Studies. He also serves as an adjunct professor of Christian ethics at Ashland University, Ashland Theological Seminary, George Fox University, and Indiana Wesleyan University. He is the author of several books, including Iconoclastic Sex: Christian Sexual Ethics and Human Trafficking and the forthcoming Between Two Gileads (Cascade). He has also published several articles in journals such as the Wesleyan Theological Journal, Review and Expositor, and the Journal for Literary Imagination. He is also the Senior Pastor at Hope United Methodist Church in Columbus, OH.
Introduction: Barth, Advent, and Preaching
Barth is a theologian of proclamation and believed that dogmatics, rather than existing in its sphere of knowledge separate from proclamation, helped clarify human speech for proclamation (See Church Dogmatics, I.1, 84–6). Thus, the reflections below utilize Barth’s dogmatic insight to clarify our human speech for proclamation this Advent season.
As we journey through Advent, the lectionary guides us into the heart of God’s promises, where we find themes of hope, waiting, renewal, and joy. Advent is a season of expectant anticipation and a call to deep, inward transformation as we prepare to receive Christ. In these reflections, we have explored how our calling to follow Christ reorients our lives, shaping our identity and relationships with God, one another, and the world.
Each week’s gospel passage offers a new lens through which to see the mystery and wonder of the incarnation, inviting us to open our hearts to the transformative power of Christ’s coming. From John the Baptist’s call to repentance to Mary’s song of faith, these passages draw us into a story that defies human expectations, reminding us that God’s kingdom breaks into the world in unexpected ways. Through the wisdom of Karl Barth, we gain insight into the profound nature of this season, seeing in each passage a fresh call to embody the radical love, humility, and joy that mark Christ’s kingdom.
Advent Week 1: Luke 21:25-36.
“Lift up your heads”(Lk. 2128) is the call. What is meant is that they should look to Him, the exalted, royal man, who has come to them as their own, their Brother, and will come again, and is now present with them below even though He is above; that they should look to Him, the Holy One, and in this looking to Him as their Lord and Representative be His saints. This looking to Him, not with bowed but uplifted head, is the setting up of these men. It is their positive sanctification—in contrast to others upon whom this has come de jure but not de facto. “Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith” (Heb. 122), they live. This looking is their sanctification de facto. As they are called by Him, and look to Him and therefore lift up themselves, they have a part here below in the holiness in which He is the One who alone is holy” (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.2, 527).
In Luke 21:25-36, Jesus describes ominous signs: chaos in the heavens, turmoil on earth, and fear spreading among the nations. The imagery is unsettling, and yet, amid these words of warning, He offers a remarkable invitation: “Stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near” (v. 28). In this call, Jesus redirects His followers’ gaze—not toward the turmoil around them but upward, toward their coming redemption.
Karl Barth’s words in Church Dogmatics offer a powerful lens for understanding this call to “lift up your heads.” Barth interprets this upward gaze as a call to look to Christ—the “exalted, royal man,” who is not only above but also intimately present with us as our “Brother.” For Barth, this looking up is more than an act of hope; it is a transformative act, a “positive sanctification.” To lift our heads and fix our eyes on Christ is, in Barth’s view, a kind of consecration. In “looking to Him as their Lord and Representative,” we become His saints—not merely by decree (de jure) but in lived reality (de facto).
Barth continues, “This looking to Him, not with bowed but uplifted head, is the setting up of these men.” He suggests that in lifting our heads, we actively participate in sanctification that is as much about identity as it is about action. We are “set up” as people whose identity is rooted not in the chaos surrounding us but in Christ, who is above in His glory and with us in His grace. In this act of looking, Barth says, we “live” as we look “unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.”
For those in ministry, this passage and Barth’s interpretation offer a profound message for Advent.
It is worth noting the anticipation and unrest in our current moment, and we are reminded that our calling is to look to Christ with heads lifted high. This act of looking is not escapism; it is a sanctifying gaze that keeps us grounded in the holiness of Christ Himself. Barth writes, “As they are called by Him, and look to Him and therefore lift up themselves, they have a part here below in the holiness in which He is the One who alone is holy.”
Thus, to “lift up our heads” is to recognize that, even now, we share in Christ’s holiness—not as something earned, but as a gift given by turning our gaze to Him. As we look to Jesus, we are continually “set up,” becoming reflections of His sanctity, even as we wait for the fullness of redemption.
This Advent, then, let us lead our congregations with heads lifted, embodying the hope that comes from Christ alone. In this simple yet profound posture, we testify to a different kind of kingship—a kingship that is with us in the here and now, even as it transcends the brokenness of our world. With our eyes on Christ, we can stand firm amid the signs of chaos, knowing that our redemption draws near and our sanctification is real. In lifting our heads, we live as those already marked by the holiness of the One who is coming, who was, and who is with us, even now.
Advent Week 2: Luke 3:1-6
“The readiness demanded by the future event proclaimed by John, and therewith His baptism, had, however, a special character. When the kingdom of heaven is set up as God's rule on earth, a strict subordination of all independent human sovereignties and claims to dominion is demanded. When God's judgment falls, the recognition that it is just and merited, and that it must be accepted without murmuring, is unavoidable. When the good news of God's rectifying righteousness, and consequently of the remission of sins, proves true, then nothing remains for man but the astonished joy of faith. But who is ready for this subordination, this recognition, this joy of faith? Who is capable of it? For whom does it not go against the grain? If there is to be readiness for this new thing, if justice is to be done to it, a new man is needed, a man who is radically changed in mind and thought and aspiration and will, a man who is adequate for this new thing and open to it. Whether among the publicans and harlots or among the scribes and Pharisees, there can be no readiness for the coming act of God along the familiar lines of human thought and desire. For all of them readiness for it can only mean renewal. Renewal, however, can only mean conversion” (Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.4, 56).
“…we cannot try to see and realise the conversion of man in a new movement and activity (whether purely inward or purely outward). Because God is for him, and he for God, it is a matter of his heart, his thinking, his will, his disposition and also of his consequent action and abstention on the same ultimate basis. It is a matter of his disposition and action together; of the two as a totality. Conversion in a separate inner or religious sphere, or conversion in a purely cultic or moral, political or ecclesiastical sphere, is not the conversion of man as it is set in motion by God. The conversion in which he returns to this peace embraces in this sense too the whole man” (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.2, 564–66, The Awakening to Conversion).
In Luke 3:1-6, we encounter John the Baptist in the wilderness, proclaiming a “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” as he prepares the way for the Lord. John’s call echoes the prophecy of Isaiah: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight… and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.” In this second week of Advent, John’s message reminds us of the deep, transformative readiness required to receive Christ. This readiness goes beyond surface-level adjustments to demand an all-encompassing conversion of the heart, mind, and will.
Karl Barth’s reflections offer a powerful interpretive lens for understanding the radical nature of John’s message. Barth speaks of a “special character” to the readiness demanded by the coming kingdom. This readiness, he argues, requires a “strict subordination of all independent human sovereignties” and a recognition that God’s judgment is “just and merited.” When the kingdom of heaven is set up as God’s rule on earth, our claims to dominion and control must be relinquished. We are called to accept God’s justice, to be astonished by God’s mercy, and to experience the “joy of faith.” But, as Barth questions, “Who is ready for this subordination, this recognition, this joy of faith?”
For John’s hearers—and us today—this level of readiness does not come naturally. As Barth asserts, a new man is needed, “a man who is radically changed in mind and thought and aspiration and will.” John’s call to repentance is a call to conversion, a total renewal that cannot come “along the familiar lines of human thought and desire.” The readiness John calls for in this wilderness proclamation is not just an intellectual assent or a moral resolve; it is a deep transformation that prepares us to receive the radical newness of God’s kingdom. This transformation, or metanoia, demands more than superficial adjustments; it requires completely turning our hearts, minds, and lives toward God.
Barth’s further reflection on the nature of conversion deepens our understanding of this call. He warns against seeing conversion as “a new movement and activity” purely inward or outward, purely religious or moral, political or ecclesiastical. True conversion, he says, embraces the whole person—heart, mind, will, disposition, and action. It is a movement toward God that permeates every dimension of our being, “a totality” of transformation that cannot be limited to one sphere of life. This type of conversion, Barth insists, is initiated by God’s movement toward us; it is God who calls us to a new life, and we respond by allowing that renewal to reshape us completely.
In the context of Advent, this call to radical conversion becomes especially poignant. John’s proclamation invites us to prepare for Christ—not merely through outward actions or superficial gestures but through a deep, inward transformation that aligns us with God’s will. It is a call to let go of our claims to control, our comforts, and even our religious self-assurance to truly receive the One who comes to bring salvation to all flesh. One must instead exist passionately and completely for those for whom Christ came, specifically the oppressed, the vulnerable, and the materially compromised. Like Christ in a manger, Advent calls us to look to those without security this season.
This message is both a challenge and an invitation for pastors and preachers. In a season often filled with busy preparations, John’s words remind us that the most important preparation for internal transformation includes external action—a readiness to be transformed by the coming of Christ. It’s a call to lead our congregations beyond passive anticipation into an active, whole-person response to God’s grace. This Advent, we are invited to preach a message of hope that does not shy away from the cost of discipleship but calls people into total alignment with the kingdom of God.
As we prepare for the coming of Christ, let us encourage our congregations to embrace a vision of conversion that, as Barth describes, is not isolated to a “religious sphere” but touches every aspect of life. Let us remind them that true readiness for Christ’s coming means allowing God’s righteousness to reshape our hearts, relationships, priorities, and actions. This Advent, may we echo John’s call to “prepare the way of the Lord” by inviting our people to the deep, all-encompassing renewal that the gospel demands. In this way, we truly prepare for the arrival of the One who brings peace and salvation to all willing to be transformed by His love.
Advent Week 3: Philippians 4:4-9
“What the community owes to the world, and each individual within it, is basically that in its life, and in the lives of all its members, there should be attempted an imitation and representation of the love with which God loved the world. But this means that the Christian community cannot be against the world; it can only be for it…Where Christians are unwilling to love men, how can they say that God loves them or that they are loved by God? They can only prove thereby that they are not too sure about this themselves, and perhaps that they are not even aware of it. For they themselves are only men, and they are always non-Christians as such. As the friends of God they are also His enemies, as believers godless. If they are aware and sure of the fact that God has loved them as such, they must also be aware and sure of this fact in respect of others too. Their decisive presupposition in respect of every man can be only that Jesus Christ has died for his sin too, and for his salvation. They must regard and approach every man from this angle. Hence they can never be against men. They can only be for them, not just theoretically but practically, with their action or inaction, their speech or silence, their intervention or toleration, as these procure space and courage and joy for them simply as men. The whole credibility of the Christian service of witness as a human act depends on whether the work of active human love precedes and follows it, accompanying and sustaining it as the commentary and illustration of an eloquent parable. This is the first thing which must be said concerning the co-operation of each individual in the service of the community to the world. “Let your moderation be known unto all men” (Phil. 4:5). There can be nothing either before this or without it” (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics III.4, 502–4, The Active Life)
“It is for this reason that the χαίρετε [24] of 2 Cor. 1311, and especially of the Epistle to the Philippians (218, 31, 44), seems to epitomise, as it were, all apostolic exhortation. How can any part of what Paul demands of Christians be rightly done if in the first instance it is not done with joy, as an “ought” whose seriousness lies at bottom in the fact that it is a “may,” something permitted?” (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics II.2, 588, The Form of the Divine Claim).
In Philippians 4:4-9, Paul calls the Christian community to a life of joy, peace, and gentleness. He urges them to “rejoice in the Lord always,” to “let your gentleness be evident to all,” and to fill their minds with things that are “true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable.” Paul’s words are a vibrant reminder that even while waiting, uncertain, and challenging, Christians are called to live in a way that reflects the deep joy and peace found in Christ.
Karl Barth’s reflections on the role of the Christian community in the world offer profound insights into Paul’s exhortation. Barth emphasizes that the community’s primary duty is to represent the love with which God loved the world. This means that the Christian community can never regard the world as an enemy, even in its brokenness. Instead, it is called to be “for” the world, reflecting God’s love actively and visibly. Barth argues that if Christians testify to God’s kingdom, they must prove their love for others in words and in action, showing genuine care and respect for each person as they are.
When Paul says, “Let your gentleness be known to all men” (Phil. 4:5), he echoes this call to active love and kindness. Barth interprets this gentleness, or moderation, as an essential component of Christian witness. If the Christian community approaches others with contempt, hostility, or even indifference, Barth argues, it undermines the credibility of its witness to God’s love. In a world where Christianity is known for its cruelty and lust for power, the call to a credible witness should resonate with many searching for answers this Advent season. How can others believe in a message of grace and freedom if they experience only judgment or disregard from those who proclaim it?
For pastors and preachers, this passage in Philippians, paired with Barth’s reflections, offers a clear challenge for Advent. As we celebrate the coming of Christ—the One who entered the world as our Sibling and Redeemer—we are reminded that our calling is to proclaim Christ’s love and embody it in tangible ways. Barth’s insight that “the whole credibility of the Christian service of witness… depends on whether the work of active human love precedes and follows it” underscores the importance of a love that is both deep and outward-facing. The community’s joy, gentleness, and peace are not meant to be private virtues; they are intended to be seen and experienced by those outside the community, testifying to the transformative power of God’s love.
Paul’s exhortation to “rejoice in the Lord always” (Phil. 4:4) also resonates deeply in light of Barth’s reflections. Barth notes that this joy is not simply an “ought” but a “may”—a gracious permission to live with gladness in the light of God’s love. This joy, then, becomes a foundation for all other Christian actions; it is the joy of knowing that we are loved and forgiven by God, and it propels us to extend that same love and grace to others.
As we anticipate Christ's coming, we are called to wait with joy and express that joy in acts of love, gentleness, and peace in Advent. This is not superficial happiness but a deep-seated joy that reflects our knowledge of God’s love for us and the world. Paul’s vision in Philippians, supported by Barth’s theological insights, reminds us that our Advent waiting should be marked by an outward-looking, active love demonstrating God’s peace to a world in need.
This Advent, may we encourage our congregations to embody this joyful love in their relationships, actions, and attitudes, becoming living witnesses of the kingdom of God. As we rejoice, let us also be gentle, as we pray, and peaceable, and as we fill our minds with what is true and lovely, let us extend that loveliness outward in genuine acts of care. In this way, our joy becomes a visible testimony to the Christ who has come and will come again, the One who loves us and all humanity with an unshakeable, redeeming love.
Advent Week 4: Luke 1:39-47
“It was to safeguard this unity of the person of Jesus Christ as Son of God and Son of Man (as was necessary against Nestorius) that the title “Mother of God” (θεοτόκος) was ascribed to Mary—not to her own honour, but to that of Jesus Christ—at the Council of Ephesus in 431. In practice, the Reformers could not make much of this title, and it seemed blasphemous in view of the current adoration of Mary. But even so, there was no question of changing it, and none of the Lutheran or Reformed orthodox of the following period disputed the necessity of this description (which had, of course, a biblical basis in Lk. 143) in elucidation of the unity of Christ's person)” (Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.2, 71).
“Let us take the exception first. It is the saying of Elisabeth to Mary in Lk. 145: “Blessed is she that believed: for (as the translation must be in analogy with Mt. 53f. and Lk. 620f.) there shall be a performance (ὅτι ἔσται τελείωσις) of those things which were told her from the Lord.” Now the only answer that Mary had given to the angel (Lk. 138) was this: “Behold, the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word.” This was her faith, in which she showed herself to be the one she already was after the salutation of the angel in Lk. 128, the κεχαριτωμένη, with whom the Lord was, and who could and should therefore rejoice. It is obvious that she is blessed in the light of her faith, yet not because of her faith, but because of what was told her by the Lord and what she believed, and in relation to its accomplishment. It is in the same sense that we have to understand the sharp antithesis in Lk. 1127f., where we are told that while Jesus was speaking “a woman of the company lifted up her voice, and said unto him, Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked. But he said, Yea rather, blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it.” For those who are pronounced blessed it is indeed a matter of their own being, but primarily it is a matter either of the fact that their own being is lit up in a new way by the kingdom of God which has come near to them in Jesus or of the fact that it is ordered by this in a new and very definite manner. Either way, it is quite astounding. Jesus, the kingdom of God, indicates and explains and interprets their being and determines and directs and characterises it. And it is in this fact—this illumination or impression—that they are blessed in spite of all appearances to the contrary. This is what Jesus tells them about themselves” (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.2, 188, The Royal Man).
As we come to the fourth Sunday of Advent, we find ourselves in the story of Mary visiting Elizabeth, an encounter marked by joy, affirmation, and prophetic blessing. In Luke 1:39-47, Elizabeth greets Mary with the words, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!” Elizabeth recognizes that Mary is uniquely blessed, not only because she is carrying the Son of God but because she has believed in the promise spoken to her by the Lord.
Karl Barth’s reflections on Mary provide valuable insights for pastors and preachers approaching this text. Barth reminds us that Mary’s title, Theotokos—Mother of God—was ascribed to her not to elevate her for her own sake but to honor the unity and mystery of Christ’s identity as both Son of God and Son of Man. At the Council of Ephesus, this title affirmed the incarnation’s profound truth: that in Mary’s womb, divinity and humanity were united in the person of Jesus Christ. This title, retained by Catholic and Protestant traditions, does not glorify Mary herself but is a testimony to the honor and mystery of Christ’s incarnation.
As we preach this text, we can lead our congregations to see Mary as the one who, in her humility and faith, becomes the first to believe in and receive the incarnate Word. She is indeed blessed—not because of any inherent merit of her own but because God has chosen her to bear God’s own Son. Barth emphasizes that Mary’s blessedness is tied to her response to God’s Word; she is the “one who believed” (Luke 1:45). Her humble acceptance—“Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38)—reflects a faith that receives and trusts God’s promise, even when it defies all human expectation.
In this sense, Mary’s blessedness reflects her faith, but not in a way that points to herself. Barth notes that Mary is blessed “in the light of her faith, yet not because of her faith, but because of what was told her by the Lord and what she believed, and in relation to its accomplishment.” Mary is blessed because her life has been illuminated and transformed by the kingdom of God that has come near her in Jesus. This is not simply a personal blessing; it’s a calling that shapes her entire being and identity. Her faith is not an achievement but an openness to the astounding work of God within her.
Barth’s further reflection on the nature of blessing helps us understand Mary’s role more deeply. He parallels another passage in Luke (11:27-28), where a woman in the crowd exclaims, “Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts at which you nursed!” Jesus responds, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and keep it.” In both cases, Barth points out, blessedness is not something individuals possess on their own but occurs when God’s kingdom “indicates and explains and interprets their being.” Mary’s life is blessed because God’s promise has illuminated it; her identity is redefined, and her entire being is oriented toward fulfilling God’s Word.
For pastors and preachers, this passage challenges us to guide our congregations in understanding that blessedness, in the Christian sense, is not about personal achievement, status, or merit. Mary’s blessedness lies in her openness to God’s promise, willingness to say “yes” to God’s purpose, and faith that God will accomplish what He has spoken. As we await the coming of Christ, we, too, are invited to a posture of faith that receives God’s Word with humility and trust, allowing it to illuminate and transform our lives.
This Advent, let us invite our congregations to reflect on Mary’s example of faith—a faith that doesn’t seek its glory but points to the astonishing reality of God-with-us. Like Mary, we are called to allow God’s kingdom to shape and redefine our lives, to let our blessedness come from the God who has drawn near to us in Christ. May we, like Mary, respond to God’s invitation with open hearts, saying, “Let it be to me according to your word,” and may our lives reflect the blessing of a faith wholly grounded in God’s promise.
Conclusion
When Advent draws to a close, we will find ourselves on the threshold of the mystery of Christmas, when God’s promises come to fulfillment in the birth of Jesus. Each reflection has invited us to cultivate a readiness for Christ’s coming—a readiness marked by joy, peace, repentance, and a deep trust in God’s faithfulness. Barth reminds us that our response to God’s promise should be grounded not in self-glorification but in a humble openness to God’s work in and through us.
In this Advent season, may we, like Mary, respond with a willing and joyful “yes” to God’s Word. As we celebrate Christ’s coming, may our lives bear witness to the love that has come near to us, a love that transforms and renews all things. As we welcome Christ anew, let us carry this Advent spirit of humility, hope, and active love into the world, sharing the good news of Emmanuel, God-with-us.
