Every year, during the seasons of Advent and Christmas, I find myself explaining to people that I was not born on Christmas Day. Because my name is Emmanuel, some people wish me “Happy Birthday” on Christmas Day, assuming I was born that day. But I was not. My name has a story that reminds me every day that God is truly with us.
Both my parents were born into polygamous families. Life in those homes was filled with rivalry and pain; too many wives and children competing for one man’s affection, and too many hearts wounded in the process. So even before they met, both my parents prayed that their future children would never have to live through the bitterness they experienced.
After their African Traditional Wedding, my parents had two children, a boy and a girl. Then came a long, painful silence. Year after year, no new child came. Six long years of waiting, praying, and enduring pressure from family and society. My father’s relatives began to question him: “What’s wrong? Why only two children? Maybe it’s time to take another wife.” But my father refused. He told them, “If you can prove that the new wife already has children in her womb waiting to be born, then I will marry her.” They could not, of course. When his relatives went so far as to bring another woman to impose on him, he chased them away.
My mother, uncomfortable with the conflict in my father’s natal family, begged him to take a second wife to make peace. Instead, my father took my mother to their parish priest and registered for Marriage Course. He wanted to make it clear to his family and others that he had no room for a second wife. It was during that season of surrender, after their Church Wedding that the miracle happened. Shortly after their wedding, my mother fell ill, and my father took her to the hospital. After some tests, the doctor returned with a smile and said, “Congratulations! You are pregnant.” She could hardly believe it, but nine months later, on the 6th of April, she gave birth to a baby boy.
When people came to celebrate, they said, “God has shown that he is with this family.” In response, my parents said, “Surely, God is with us.” Then they remembered the name “Emmanuel” from the Bible, which means, “God with us.” And so they named me Emmanuel. After me came three more children, a girl and two boys. Then those same relatives who once mocked my parents started asking, “Where will you find the money to feed all these children?” (I often think, if they were Mexican, they might have said, “Don’t you people have a Television?”). But through it all, my parents learned what it means to trust God even when life does not make sense. That is really the heart of Advent, trusting that God is at work even when his plan seems confusing.
Think of Joseph and Mary. Their lives were turned upside down at the moment they thought everything was coming together. Joseph was a righteous man, engaged to a young woman he deeply loved. He had waited, kept himself pure, and looked forward to a holy marriage. Then, out of nowhere, the news: Mary was pregnant. And Joseph knew he was not the father. Imagine his confusion, his heartbreak, his sense of betrayal. The explanation that “it was from the Holy Spirit” must have sounded impossible. Even for a man of faith, that would have been a hard and bitter pill to swallow. Yet, Joseph did not react in anger. Even before the angel spoke, he resolved to protect Mary quietly. That is grace under pressure, faith in the midst of confusion.
Mary’s situation was not any easier. Imagine being a young virgin, suddenly pregnant, with an explanation that defied logic: “The Holy Spirit overshadowed me.” Who would believe that? Yet Mary trusted. She did not argue or panic. She simply said, “Let it be done to me according to your word.” Her faith did not make sense to the world, but it made history.
My dearly beloved in Christ, this is where Advent meets real life. Some of us here today are in situations that make no sense. You have tried to be faithful, you have prayed, you have waited, and you have done your best, yet nothing seems to work. Perhaps you are tempted to give up, take shortcuts, or compromise your faith just to make things easier. Please, don’t! Don’t let the world push you against God. Don’t let frustration drive you into sin. Hold on to God, even when you cannot make sense of his silence.
If my parents had given up, I would not be standing here today. If Joseph had walked away, the story of salvation would have been different. If Mary had doubted, the world would have missed the Savior. You may not understand what God is doing right now, but one day you will look back and realize that even the delay had a purpose. When my parents’ prayers seemed unanswered, God was building their faith and deepening their love. The years of waiting made the miracle even more beautiful, and taught them to depend entirely on God. Those same years also allowed their first two children to grow mature enough to help raise the younger ones. God’s plan was perfect, just not obvious.
So, if you are in a season of confusion or pain, remember: your story is not over yet. Each of us is a book that God is still writing. Trust his pen more than your understanding. Scripture says, “All things work together for good to those who love God.” Not some things, all things. Even the pain. Even the waiting. Even the silence.
As we prepare for Christmas, let this truth sink in: God is with us. That is not just his name, it is his promise. May we never let confusion separate us from him. May our faith hold strong when life seems to make no sense. And when the story is finally told, may people look at us, just as they looked at my parents, and say, “Truly, God has shown that he is with you.” Amen.
Homily for 4th Sunday of Advent Year A 2025
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