For the week of the 3rd Sunday in Advent, pastors are welcome to utilize this homily for church members on hospice, adding and subtracting what they desire. A sermon hymn is added if the pastor wishes to sing to the dear saint.
Festival: 3rd Sunday in Advent
Text: James 5:7-11
Sermon Hymn: LSB #750 If Thou But Trust in God to Guide Thee
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
St. James begins with a simple but difficult word: “Therefore be patient, brethren, until the coming of the Lord” [v. 7a]. Patience is never easy, and it’s especially hard when suffering has lingered longer than expected. Waiting in a hospice bed can feel like time itself has slowed, as though each hour asks more of you than you have strength to give. The world lies to us that “God does not give you more than you can handle.” This is not true, for we all must face death, and who can handle it? In such moments, patience is not a virtue we master but a burden we bear. James doesn’t pretend otherwise. He writes to those who know what it is to endure—to those who feel the weight of waiting and the ache of uncertainty.
James compares this waiting to a farmer who waits for the precious fruit of the earth, watching the skies for the early and latter rains [v. 7]. The farmer can’t force the harvest or command the rain; he can only trust that what has been planted will, in time, come to fruition. So it is with you, [name]. Much of life has already been planted: your years of labor, your love for others, your prayers spoken and unspoken. Now comes a different season—one where control gives way to trust. The waiting itself exposes how little we command and how dependent we truly are. It strips away the illusion that strength or effort can bring about the end we desire.
James then says, “Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand” [v. 8b]. To establish the heart is not to steel it against pain, but to anchor it in hope. The Lord’s coming is not distant or vague; it is near. For one who is dying, this promise takes on a particular clarity. Christ isn’t merely coming at the end of human history; He comes for you at life’s end. The Judge is standing at the door, James says [v. 9], but for the Christian, that Judge is also the Savior who’s already borne judgement in your place. The door that opens therefore won’t lead to condemnation, but to welcome.
James points us to the Prophets and to Job as examples of suffering and endurance [vv. 10-11]. Job’s story is especially fitting here. Job didn’t endure quietly. He questioned, lamented, and cried out in pain. Yet in the end, James says we see “the end intended by the Lord—that the Lord is very compassionate and merciful” [v. 11]. God’s compassion wasn’t proven by the absence of suffering but by faithfulness through it. Job’s hope was not in his ability to endure, but in the God who would not abandon him. So it is for you, [name]. Your endurance isn’t measured by how calm you feel or how bravely you face each day. It’s measured by the fact that the Lord remains with you, even when words fail and strength fades.
[Name], your waiting is not empty. Your suffering does not go unnoticed. The Lord who once came in humility, who suffered in His own body, and who endured the cross now comes to you with mercy. The end that awaits you is not abandonment but compassion. The Lord is near. He is patient with you, gentle toward you, and faithful to His promise. Even now, He’s preparing to gather you into the harvest He Himself has brought to completion. Rest, therefore, in the knowledge that the Lord is very compassionate and merciful, and He will not fail you at the end.
May the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.
The Lutheran Column 