Jesaja 57:15

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with us all. Amen.

Dear congregation, where does God dwell? This is an age-old question. On the one hand, people feel God is so near—mystics experience being one with God in prayer and meditation. So near, inseparable. Paul writes: nothing can separate us from God.
And on the other hand, we sometimes feel God is so far away—Where are you, God?
The nearness of God and the feeling of being forsaken by God are two experiences, and fundamentally, they are experiences that reflect the insight of Isaiah.

Isaiah 57:15 states:
“For thus says the High and Lofty One who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble and to revive the heart of the contrite.”

Quite vividly and very convincingly: Isaiah experiences God in different ways: at the very top, exalted, enthroned above the things of the world – God in heaven. And God at the very bottom, among those who cannot sink any lower, among those who are humiliated: the word captures how deeply someone can be devastated. Low and lowly. This is a motif in Advent and Christmas.
Even Mary, the mother of Jesus, sings: “He has seen the lowliness of his servant!”

God is therefore at home in at least two worlds: highly exalted, superior, and enthroned above the things of the world. From there, this is how it looks: he has the world in view

And yet, God is also with the downtrodden.

Where is God then?
Many people love clear-cut answers: either/or. They find it difficult to think of "and."
But the "and" is a key word here. If God were only at the very top, then he would be a detached God. Then God would be above things. Then he would have hardly anything to do with the world.
But those who see God only at the very bottom, with the downtrodden, as helpless as they themselves, may praise God's compassion and understanding, but they are still left with a deep feeling of being lost.

To those who think of God as so distant, so superhuman and untouchable, so domineering and ruling, it is said: Behold the human God. Perceive him in the presence of those who are broken and humiliated. Imagine God at the side of those who are despairing.

Perceive the humanity of God.
And to those who think of God as little more than a human being, bound by the same
limits and helpless as we humans in our captivity, it is said: God is also reliably superior – God is and remains the Creator and Perfecter. God remains also God, free from human limitations.
Isaiah makes us aware: Our God is a sublime, mighty God and a God who works entirely
below.

This brings us to the essence of Advent and Christmas: God is implored in
many songs and prayers: Rend open the heavens – and reveal yourself, God – come to us, to your people.

And at the same time, we praise the God who, in communion with the angels, reigns over the world
and comforts it from there.
Advent and Christmas are the time when people become aware of the mysterious connection between heaven and earth, between God and his people.
God's mercy and his power; God's action and God's powerlessness; God's love
and his justice – they belong together.

There's a little Jewish story about a student who asks his rabbi:
"Rabbi, why is God sometimes so far away and sometimes so near?"
The rabbi replied:
"God is like the light.
When you stand in bright sunlight, everything seems big, powerful, far away.
But when you light a candle, small and flickering, the light suddenly becomes very near.
It's the same source—but you experience it differently."
The rabbi says:
"God is both: the light that encompasses the world—and the candle that shines into your heart."

Isaiah describes it similarly: God dwells on high—like the great light that spans the world.
And God dwells with the broken—like the small, warm light that doesn't go out in the darkness.
Both belong to God. And we need both.

Isaiah describes it this way: God dwells on high – like the great light that spans the world. And God dwells with the broken – like the small, warm light that never goes out in the darkness.
Both belong to God. And we need both.

Advent means: We light small candles so that we may recognize the great light of God.
We are not waiting for a distant God, but for the one who illuminates our darkness.

And today we celebrate this light in a very concrete way in baptism.
In baptism, God says:
"I am coming to you. Not later, not only in heaven – now. Into your life."
Baptism is like this small candle: unassuming, delicate, but full of promise.

A sign that God's light will accompany this person – in the highs and in the lows.

So we enter Advent with an ancient, but wonderful certainty:
God always finds his way to us.

From above – and down below.
And right into the heart of our lives. Amen.