Koonung Heights Uniting Church
Service of Worship at Home
When we’re running out of hope, God is at work.
Advent 2 – 7 December, 2025 – 10am or whenever possible
You may like to light a candle during your time of worship.
Feel free to text the Peace to other members of the congregation.
Introit: “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” – (Words © Susan Wickham 2021 – Tune TiS 265)
O come, O light of Christ, so bright and clear
and lift our spirits by your advent here.
In all who gather, show us your face,
that we may know the warmth of your embrace.
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to us and in our hearts will dwell.
Lighting the Christ Candle:
As we gather in the Advent waiting room,
longing for a sign,
we light the Christ candle.
It’s light reminds us that Christ is the light,
the light that has already come and yet we wait.
May this light come afresh to our hearts and world,
guiding our way
as we walk the path of life together.
Acknowledgement of Country:
This is God’s land and God’s Spirit dwells here.
As we gather for worship today,
I acknowledge the Wurundjeri WoiWurrung
People of the Kulin nations,
traditional custodians of this land under God.
I pay my respects to their elders past and present,
and to the leaders and generations to come.
Call to Worship:
Family of faith, God is at work!
God is healing and creating,
redeeming and dreaming,
calling and sending,
listening and loving.
Yes, indeed, God is at work!
So may we worship our God who never gives up.
May we worship our God who holds onto hope.
Amen.
We Sing: “Gather Us In” – (TiS 474)
Here in this place new light is streaming,
now is the darkness vanished away,
see, in this space, our fears and our dreamings,
brought here to you in the light of this day.
Gather us in, the lost and forsaken; gather us in, the blind and the lame;
call to us now, and we shall awaken, we shall arise at the sound of our name.
We are the young, our lives are a mystery;
we are the old, who yearn for your face;
we have been sung throughout all of history,
called to be light to the whole human race.
Gather us in, the rich and the haughty; gather us in, the proud and the strong;
give us a heart so meek and so lowly, give us the courage to enter the song.
Here we will take of the wine and the water,
here we will take the bread of new birth,
here you shall call your sons and your daughters,
call us anew to be salt of the earth.
Give us to drink the wine of compassion, give us to eat the bread that is you;
nourish us well and teach us to fashion lives that are holy and hearts that are true.
Not in the dark of buildings confining,
not in some heaven light years away,
but here in this space, the new light is shining,
now is the kingdom, now is the day.
Gather us in, and hold us forever, gather us in, and make us your own;
gather us in all peoples together, fire of love in our flesh and our bone.
Advent Candle:
In a world full of fear, where do you see glimmers of peace?
We see glimmers of peace in the quiet of early morning,
when people shake hands,
when loved ones say they’re sorry,
and when the church sings together.
You are right.
Even in a fearful world, peace is all around us.
Last week we lit the candle of hope.
Today we light the candle of peace
as a reminder of this good news.
May this flicker of light help us remember
that even in a fearful world, peace is present.
We only have to look for it.
Call to Prayer:
One of the beautiful things about prayer is that we can pray in many ways,
alone, with others, silently, with voice or even song.
Prayer is a time when we can be honest before God,
because God always meets us with grace, tenderness, and mercy.
Near the end of his ministry, John the Baptist reached out to Jesus
with a heart full of anxiety.
John was in gaol, and he knew he might not get out, so he asked tough, honest questions.
Like John the Baptist let us be honest as we come before God in prayer.
Let us enter this moment through song.
We Sing: “Veni, Sancte Spiritus” – (TiS 752)
Veni, Sancte Spiritus
Come from the four winds,
O Spirit, come, breath of God;
disperse the shadows over us,
renew and strengthen your people.
Veni, Sancte, Spiritus.
Father of the poor, come to our poverty.
Shower upon us the seven gifts of your grace.
Be the light of our lives – O, come.
Veni, Sancte Spiritus.
You are our only comforter,
Peace of the soul.
In the heat you shade us;
in our labour you refresh us,
and in trouble you are our strength.
Veni, Sancte, Spiritus.
Kindle in our hearts the flame of your love
that in all the darkness of the world
it may glow and reach to all for ever.
Veni, Sancte Spiritus.
Prayer of Thanksgiving and Confession:
Thank you – God who breathed life and order out of chaos,
for coming to us in Jesus, the Prince of Peace.
This Advent season we are thankful,
for all the ways we see your Spirit moving
to bring peace in our hearts and in the world.
Thank you – for coming to us in the peacemakers,
the ones who use their voices, their skills and their lives,
to promote peace in our world.
With gratitude, we name those peacemakers, in our heart. (time of quiet)
We confess that we have missed opportunities to be peacemakers in the way of Jesus.
We hold onto grudges and old hurts and do not forgive others as you forgive us.
We block our ears to those who cry out because it makes us feel uncomfortable.
Forgive us and set us on the right path.
On-the-move God, we have every reason to hold onto hope.
We have every reason to believe that spring will come,
that flowers will bloom, that the sun will rise.
Forgive us, for the times when hope slips through our fingers.
Sooth our hearts and show us the places where the sun is shining,
the places where you are on the move.
Amen.
Words of Assurance:
Family of faith,
in our honesty, we are heard.
In our worries, we are held.
In our failings, we are forgiven.
In our fear, we are not alone.
Friends, this is the good news of the gospel!
When we’re running out of hope, God is still at work.
Thanks be to God!
Amen.
A Time for All:
This morning we lit the candle for peace, and we said we were sorry for the times we were not good peacemakers. I’d like to share a story with you called Little Raccoon and the Thing in the Pool. It’s written by Lilian Moore with illustrations by Gioia Fiammenghi.
Little Raccoon was little but he was brave. One day Mother Raccoon said, ‘Tonight the moon will be bright and full. Can you go to the running stream all by yourself, Little Raccoon? Can you bring back some crayfish for supper?’
‘Oh yes, yes!’ said Little Raccoon. ‘I’ll bring back the best crayfish you ever ate!’ Little Raccoon was little but he was brave.
That night the moon came up big and full and very bright. ‘Go now, Little Raccoon,’ said his mother. ‘Walk till you come to the pool. You will see a big tree lying across the pool. Walk across the pool on the tree. The best place o dig for crayfish is on the other side.’
Little Racoon went off in the bright moonlight. He was so happy and so proud. Here he was – walking in the woods all by himself for the very first time! He walked a little. He ran a little. And now and then he skipped.
On his journey Little Raccoon meets Old Porcupine, Big Skunk, and Fat Rabbit. They are all surprised to see Litle Raccoon and ask where he is going. ‘I’m going to the running stream,’ said Little Raccoon proudly. ‘Way over there on the other side of the pool.’ ‘Oooh!’ said Fat Rabbit. ‘Aren’t you afraid of IT?’ ‘Afraid of what?’, asked Litle Raccoon. ‘Of the thing in the pool!, said Fat Rabbit. ‘I am!’ ‘Well, I’m not!’ said Little Raccoon. And he went on.
Soon Little Raccoon came to the big tree that was lying across the pool. ‘The is where I cross,’ said Little Raccoon to himself, ‘over there on the other side is where I dig for crayfish.’ Little Raccoon walked on to the tree and began to cross the pool. He was brave, but he did wish he had not met Fat Rabbit. He did not want to think about IT. He did not want to think about the thing in the pool. But he couldn’t help it. He just had to stop – and look.
There was something in the pool. Little Raccoon didn’t want to show he was afraid so he made a face. The thing in the pool made a face, too, and what a mean face it was! Little Raccoon ran all the way back to skunk. He did want to bring home the crayfish. Skunk suggested he should go back but take a stone with him.
Little Raccoon did this. He went back and looked down into the water, and there it was. To show he was not afraid he held up his stone, but the thing in the pool help up a stone, too, and what a big stone it was! Little Raccoon ran away again, and this time ran until he saw Old Porcupine.
He told Old Porcupine what had happened, that he had taken a stone with him but that the thing in the pool had a big stone too. Old Porcupine suggested he should go back again, but that this time he should take a big stick. So he did, and the thing in the pool was still there. Little Raccoon didn’t wait but held up his big stick and shook it. The thing in the pool also had a big stick and shook it at Little Raccoon. Little Raccoon dropped his stick and ran all the way back home to his mother.
He told her what had happened and how he was sorry he couldn’t bring the crayfish home. ‘You can and you shall!’ said Mother Raccoon. This time when you go back to the pool, don’t make a face, don’t carry a stone, don’t wave a stick. ‘But what shall I do?’ asked Little Raccoon. ‘Just smile,’ said Mother Raccoon. ‘This time just smile at the thing in the pool.’ ‘Is that all?, asked Little Raccoon. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘That is all,’ said his mother, ‘I am sure.’
So Little Raccoon went back to the pool, hoping that the thing had gone away, but when it got there and looked down in the water, there it was. He made himself smile at the thing in the pool, and the thing in the pool smiled back! Little Raccoon was so happy that he began to laugh, and the thing in the pool laughed too. ‘Now it wants to be friends,’ said Little Raccoon. Little Raccoon ran along the tree to the other side of the pool and got some crayfish to take home for dinner. On the way home he waved to the thing in the pool and the thing in the pool waved back.
Little Raccoon went home and told his mother, ‘the thing in the pool isn’t mean at all!’ ‘I know’, said Mother Raccoon.
Maybe we can start to be peacemakers just like Little Raccoon. Maybe we can simply smile and say hello, even when we might feel a little nervous. Rather than saying something nasty, maybe we can just wave our hands in greeting. This is a good way to start being a peacemaker.
Bible Reading: Isaiah 43:19-21
19 I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth; do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.
20 The wild animals will honour me,
the jackals and the ostriches,
for I give water in the wilderness,
rivers in the desert,
to give drink to my chosen people,
21 the people whom I formed for myself
so that they might declare my praise.
Bible Reading: Matthew 11:1-11
1 11 Now when Jesus had finished instructing his twelve disciples, he went on from there to teach and proclaim his message in their cities.
Messengers from John the Baptist
2 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples 3 and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” 4 Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: 5 the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with a skin disease are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. 6 And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”
Jesus Praises John the Baptist
7 As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? 8 What, then, did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. 9 What, then, did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10 This is the one about whom it is written,
‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’
11 “Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen gr’.eater than John the Baptist, yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.
Reflection:
Last week we heard part of the story of the long awaited child of Zechariah and Elizabeth, the child who would be called John. By the time we meet this same John, now known as John the Baptist, we have come a long way, in fact we are almost at the other end of his story. When we come into contact with John in Matthew II, he is no longer the bold prophet in the wilderness, crying out, ‘prepare the way of the Lord” (Luke 3:4b)..He is a prisoner – held under Herod’s authority and cut off from the movement that he helped ignite. His firebrand voice has been silenced and in its place we find a question, carried through his disciples to Jesus: ‘Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?’ (Matthew 11:3).
This is not just a question, it is so much more. It is a cry from the edges of despair. John, the prophet who baptised Jesus, the one who had declared him to be the Lamb of God, is now unsure. The future is uncertain, and in the dim light of his cell, with execution on the horizon, hope flickers low. John does not ask for a miracle. Rather, John asks whether his whole life, his ministry, the message he proclaimed, and all the risks he took along the way, meant anything at all. Like John, even the most confident of us wonders from time to time: Is all this work worth it? Does anything I do matter? Am I on the right track?
This week, let’s validate these questions, for they are real for all of us in some moments of our lives, but let’s also go a little deeper in our self-inquiry. The reality is that we can’t always see the fruits of our labour, we can’t always tell where we are making a difference, yet deep down we know that God is at work in the world anyway. So how might we, like Jesus and Isaiah, point to the places where God is at work in our world, and keep our hope alive? If our hope is solely dependent upon outcomes, tangible proof or positive change, it might be hard to practice hope and trust that God is at work. Maybe God is simply at work in ways we don’t see and don’t expect.
The question John asks is one that many of us have asked, especially when our best efforts for justice and truth feel fruitless. We can protest, vote, and pray for peace and despite all that we do, it seems that the call to peace remains unanswered. We wonder if we got it wrong and question whether all our efforts were worth it. For us, too, this is not doubt born of cynicism. It is the trembling that comes when conviction meets suffering – when the cost of our faithfulness has been high, and yet the fruit appears small. It is what hope sounds like when it is running thin.
So how does Jesus respond to John’s questions? Jesus does not chastise or lecture. Jesus doesn’t say ‘John should know better! Instead, Jesus answers indirectly, with the witness of all that is unfolding. He says, ‘Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them’. (Matthew 11:4-5)
Jesus doesn’t point to a grand victory but to quiet signs of transformation. He doesn’t hand John certainty but invites him to perceive God’s work. This is a reorientation towards Isaiah’s vision: ‘I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?’ (Isaiah 43:19a). The empire is still intact. Herod still reigns. John will not be released from prison. Yet Jesus insists that God’s dream is unfolding – look again, listen, perceive.
What is powerful in this moment is not that Jesus performs miracles, but that he frames them as evidence of God’s reign at work – an alternative kingdom not marked by coercion or fear, but by healing, liberation, and good news for the marginalized. The writer of Matthew’s gospel lifts up Jesus, not as a new Caesar, but as the agent of God’s redemptive transformation. Those who perceive the signs understand what kind of Messiah has come.
For those who find themselves in prison today – either literally or metaphorically – because of their prophetic witness, this passage offers both solace and challenge. Hope in the gospel is not grounded in outcomes or visible success. Rather, hope is rooted in perception – in trusting that God is still at work, even when systems remain unchanged, even when prophets die behind bars. Little Raccoon began to doubt that he could get to the other side of the pool to find crayfish for dinner, that is, until his perception changed. Once he perceived that the thing in the pool was not scary, he was hopeful that he could get to the other side – and he did. In the face of challenge, his hope helped him find courage
John’s question echoes across generations. Activists, caregivers, clergy, organisers, artists – anyone who has dared to hope in a better world – knows this moment. We fear that nothing has changed. We grieve that our lives might not have mattered. We hear silence from the people of institutions we hoped would transform. And yet, when all this happens for John, Jesus affirms him – not in spite of the question he asks, but through it. Jesus affirms that ‘among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist. (Matt 11:11).
Jesus doesn’t see John’s crumbling hope as failure. He names it as part of what makes John faithful. This is a pastoral word for us: hope that trembles is still hope. Even in doubt, John is still a prophet. Even in fear, he is still beloved.
Advent does not require us to manufacture hope. It invites us to bring our emptied hope to Jesus, to ask the hard questions, and to listen again for signs of God’s nearness. When we’re running out of hope, it may be the perfect time to ask: What do you see? What do you hear? It might also be the perfect time to trust that somewhere, even now, something new is springing forth. Let us insist on that hope this Advent.
Amen.
We Sing: “Looking Out a Prison Window” – (Tune TiS 312)
Looking out a prison window who can see the flowers bloom?
Hope dissolves like dreams at daybreak leaving us an empty room.
Still beyond what we can see God is always planting seeds.
All the things that keep us captive shrink our optimistic faith.
We must practice hope on purpose even when our spirits break.
‘Til at last our freedom comes and we finally see the sun.
To our siblings still imprisoned behind bars of steel or fear,
bring the message from our Saviour: hope is real and dawning near.
Tell the gospel all around: New life springs up from the ground.
We are called to liberation to be freed and to set free
breaking chains of worldly powers who would claim our liberty.
Body, spirit, mind and heart – Liberate each captive part.
Prayer for Others (from Sanctified Art resources):
God of starlight,
there are days when beauty catches us by surprise.
There are days when joy bubbles up inside us,
when hope grows wings and soars beyond us,
when love is so big and so real that it is all we can see.
There are days when all seems right in the world,
but not every day.
There are other days, God, when, like John the Baptist,
we find ourselves wondering
where we could possibly go from here.
We find ourselves wondering if we really did make a difference,
or if change was a lost cause all along.
You know the kind of days we speak of, God.
We lament days with ambulance sirens and phone calls from the doctor.
Days of loneliness and haunting news reports.
Days spent at the cemetery or the gaol.
Days when the suffering and injustice of the world feels particularly close.
There are so many ways our hope can run dry.
God of starlight, when the weight of the world presses in on us,
when injustice and suffering feel like the dominant narrative,
when hope begins to slip through our hands, run toward us.
Remind us of the birds that sing in the morning.
Remind us of the flowers that push through thawing ground.
Remind us of the groups of people that have always made a difference.
Remind us of the work this church has done.
Remind us of the work our hands are capable of, and the love our heart already knows.
And as you do, we will continue to remind each other of your presence in our world.
As you do, we will continue to tell each other the stories of the hungry being fed,
the sick being healed, the captives being released, and the lion lying with the lamb,
and until that promised day, we will continue to hope, to pray, and to work.
Amen.
Communion:
The Peace
The peace of God be with you
and also with you.
Invitation to the Table
Have you ever had a moment
when you weren’t sure where you belonged?
Here at this table, you never have to wonder.
Here at this Table, there is enough room,
enough food, enough love for everyone.
Here at this Table, Jesus is standing up on his chair, waving his hands over his head,
saying to each of you, “I saved you a seat!”.
Here at this Table, you are wanted and welcomed. You are safe and loved.
Here at this Table, you belong.
So my friends, there is no need for fear here, for this is a joyful feast.
And you are invited. Come. All are welcome.
Great Prayer of Thanksgiving
With-us God, we live in a fearful world,
and if we’re honest, we come to this Table today carrying our anxiety.
We come to this Table asking for guidance.
We come to this Table with all of life’s “what-ifs.”
But you do not disregard our fear.
You do not brush it under the rug or call us foolish.
You do not ignore the realities in front of us.
You do not dish out hurtful platitudes,
telling us to “toughen up” or “power through.”
Instead, you meet us here.
You listen to our fears.
You remind us that we are not alone.
You surround us with people who love us.
You show us where we are strong.
You walk beside us.
And you give us a new song to sing.
So today we pray, gracious God:
replace the fear on our tongues with words of hope and songs of joy.
As we come to this Table, pour out your Spirit on this bread and cup.
Remind us that even in a fearful world, you are on the move.
Remind us that even in a fearful world, you are here,
inviting us to the Table, nourishing our spirits,
reminding us that we belong, calling us by name.
Instill that good news in us, for this is a joyful feast.
Fear is not the loudest voice today.
What a gift that is.
Now with hope for a better tomorrow,
we join our voices together to pray the prayer your son taught us to pray, saying …
Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name;
Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our sins
as we forgive those who sin against us.
Save us from the time of trial and deliver us from evil.
For the Kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours now and forever.
Amen.
Distribution
The bread we take is a sharing in the body of Christ.
The wine we take is a sharing in the blood of Christ.
These are the gifts of God for the people of God.
The bread of life – the cup of hope.
May this meal nourish and refresh you, strengthen and renew you,
may it remind you that you are loved.
Amen.
(eat and drink)
Prayer after Communion
Loving God,
in a world racked with fear, you gather us together.
You set the table.
You meet us here.
You nourish our bodies as you nourish our spirits.
You remind us that this is a joyful feast,
and that fear cannot win every time.
So with renewed courage, with renewed hope,
with renewed conviction, send us out into the world.
Help us to feed others as you have fed us.
With gratitude we pray,
Amen.
We Sing: “Jesus Christ is waiting” – (TiS 665)
Jesus Christ is waiting, waiting in the streets; no-one is his neighbour, all alone he eats.
Listen, Lord Jesus, I am lonely too. Make me, friend of stranger, fit to wait on you.
Jesus Christ is dancing, dancing in the streets, where each sign of hatred, he with love defeats,
Listen, Lord Jesus, I should triumph too; where good conquers evil, let me dance with you.
Jesus Christ is calling, calling in the streets, ‘who will join my journey? I will guide their feet’,
Listen, Lord Jesus, let my fears be few, walk one step before me; I will follow you.
Blessing:
In a fearful world, may you look for God’s spirit.
May you reach for each other’s hands.
May you choose courage whenever you can.
And in all things, may you remember
that good news is louder than fear.
In the name of the one who calls,
the one who sends,
and the one who journeys with us,
go in peace and do not be afraid.
Amen.
Thanks to all those who have assisted in preparation for this liturgy with encouragement, prayers and conversation. I have also utilised the following resources: Fig Tree Worship and A Sanctified Art (What do you fear? Insisting on Hope this Advent).
Looking Out a Prison Window © Anna Strickland, 2025.
Little Raccoon and the Thing in the Pool © Lilian Moore and Gioia Fiammenghi.