Cultivate My Soil

A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, December 7th, 2025:
Second Sunday of Advent

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Matthew
3.1-12

​In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” This is the one of whom the Prophet Isaiah spoke when he said, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’”

Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, John said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

“I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

When the truth is presented to me, I want to recognize it. Whether draped in camel’s hair while eating locusts, shouting between the lines of a beloved novel, or whispering in the leaves as they brush against one another, I want to be still and attuned to the quiet beating of my heart as God conducts its rhythm. 

Because, countless times, I have missed it. Like a hummingbird whirring past my ear, I thought I might have heard something, but I was moving too fast in the other direction to let the colours of it penetrate me. 

For fear of the chastisement John lays out for the Pharisees, I place my attention on the traffic rushing ahead in the distance rather than on the quiet beauty slowly breaking open the earth. My tender heart steers me clear of confronting my pharisaical nature. Yet the harsh reality remains: If I avoid the moments that cultivate my soil for conviction, my garden will lie fallow when the springtime comes.

In this way, I am a maker of my own demise. My will is strong and often misused. I choose busyness over stillness, comfort over conviction, human attention and affirmation over the deep and abiding love of God. I am drawn to the sparkle and allure of man-made things, while overlooking the gleaming and eternal gift continually offered with each and every new breath. A gift that, when carefully tended and received with an open heart, can multiply and enfold other souls into its blessing.

Draw me into the stillness of this season, Father. Take me on that slow walk to Bethlehem, eyes, ears, and heart open to Your refining word. Awaken my senses to Your creative and life-giving power. When Your truth is presented to me, I want to recognize Him. Amen.




​Lori MacDonald

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