Advent invites a waiting that moves, like farmers who keep tools sharp while watching the sky. You can resist the urge to idle by tending the soil of prayer, repairing what’s broken, and showing up in small faithfulness. Waiting with God is not wasting; it is training your heart to trust the rain you cannot schedule. Choose one task that readies your life for grace, and do it with hope that the Master is near [42:51].
James 5:7–8 — Dear friends, wait with steady hearts for the Lord’s arrival. Farmers wait for their valuable crop, letting the early and late rains do their slow work. Stay firm like that; anchor your hearts, because the Lord’s coming is close.
Reflection: What is one “field” in your life you can quietly prepare this week—something you can repair, clean, or organize—so that when God’s rain comes you’re ready?
Joy in this season is not a mood that appears after everything is perfect; it is a holy refusal to surrender to despair. When the decorations feel heavy and the to-do list long, let your soul sing anyway, like a candle humming against the night. Joy does not deny pain or loss; it bears witness that light still shines. Offer a simple song, a whispered prayer, or a shared meal as your act of resistance, and let joy find you with empty hands [55:14].
John 1:5 — The light keeps shining into the darkness, and the darkness can’t smother it.
Reflection: Where do your hands feel empty right now, and what small act of praise (a song, a thank-you note, a candlelit prayer) could you offer there as a gentle protest against despair?
God welcomes honest questions. John, who once pointed to Jesus with bold certainty, sat in a cell and asked, Are you the One? Jesus did not scold; he pointed to lives being restored and good news reaching the poor. Bring your doubts into the light, and watch for the quiet evidence of the Kingdom that answers more deeply than easy words [51:45].
Matthew 11:2–6 — From prison John sent word asking if Jesus was the One to come. Jesus replied: Tell John what you’re seeing—the blind are seeing, the lame are walking, those cast out are restored, the deaf are hearing, the dead are raised, and the poor are hearing good news. Blessed are those who don’t trip over me.
Reflection: What honest question have you been carrying, and who could help you look for the signs of God’s healing work around you as you bring that question to Jesus this week?
Waiting in Advent is prophetic, not passive. It rolls up its sleeves to mend fractures, to forgive, to advocate, to feed, to show up where hurt lingers. This is volcanic courage—the kind that changes the landscape, not with noise, but with steady heat. Choose to participate in God’s river of justice today, letting mercy and truth flow through your words and your feet [28:29].
Amos 5:24 — Let justice surge like a river in flood, and let righteousness run on like a stream that never dries up.
Reflection: In light of the needs and violence we lament, what is one specific, non-dramatic step you can take this week to make peace or pursue justice in your neighborhood?
Preparation is love in motion. Like the farmer in winter and the forerunner in the wilderness, you ready the path—organize, pray, practice generosity, and keep watch. The Kingdom is already here and not yet complete, so keep your heart soft and your yes available. Set your life to be interruptible by grace, and be ready to step forward when the next faithful invitation arrives [39:46].
Luke 3:4–6 — A voice calls out in the wilderness: Clear a straight road for the Lord. Lift what is low, level what is rough, remove the obstacles, and all people will see God’s saving work.
Reflection: What practical preparation would help you say a ready yes—setting aside ten minutes for prayer, joining the devotional group, or stocking the pantry—so you can step into the “next” when it arrives?
We gathered as a family—messy, live, and honest—to name joys and burdens in this season that is supposed to be about joy but often isn’t simple. We blessed Hanukkah at sundown, celebrated graduations and good work recognized, prayed for healing and safe travel, and lamented violence near and far. We gave thanks for food arriving “just when,” and asked God to hold those who are grieving and those who are in the next uncertain thing. Then we turned to the strange grace of Advent: a season of waiting for the One who is already here.
I shared a confession: I’m great at study for work, lousy at devotional time for the soul. So I’m asking for accountability. We’re picking up a gentle, doable daily devotional—“God’s Message for Each Day” from The Message, and we’ll walk it together in the app. If you want in but a book isn’t in the budget, we’ll put one in your hands.
In Scripture, James calls us to patience like farmers—active, expectant, preparing the soil while the sky is still clear. That’s the shape of Advent. I learned it in the garden as a kid, and again in ministry: my job is to be ready for the next step before I see it. That’s how our food pantry grew—our limits said “no,” but God trained our mouths to say “yes” and then supplied what “yes” required. Advent is that posture.
John the Baptist sent a question from prison: “Are you the one?” Jesus didn’t shame him—He pointed to the evidence: sight restored, bodies healed, the poor receiving good news. The kingdom has begun. It’s not complete. So waiting isn’t passive—it’s prophetic. Thomas Kelly said the prophets carried a “volcanic” power; Advent is that kind of waiting: disruptive hope, sleeves-rolled-up peace, love that won’t sit quietly.
And joy? Joy isn’t a mood that arrives when conditions improve. Joy is resistance. The Grinch learned it when the Whos sang with empty hands; their joy did not depend on stuff. Ours doesn’t either. Advent teaches us to strengthen our hearts, to choose joy that sings in the dark, to keep preparing for rain when the sky is clear, and to trust that God is still breaking in. We came to the Table with that trust—one bread, one cup, one body—ready to wait with courage and work with hope.
James tells us to be like the farmer waiting for the crop, trusting that the rain will come even when the sky is clear and the soil is dry, trusting. And I think here James isn't saying just sit down quietly and don't complain. Just sit down and don't do anything. He's saying wait with expectation. Wait with active hope. Wait like the farmer who was still tilling the land, planting the seeds, removing the weeds and preparing for the rain even when there isn't a cloud in sight.
[00:45:22]
(40 seconds)
#WaitLikeAFarmer
But I trusted that God was going to see me through this journey and I felt that it was my job to be ready, to do all that I needed to do to be ready to step into whatever it was God called me to in that moment when God showed me that next step, I needed to be ready to take it. And I think that is what Advent is about. Advent is about us being ready to take the next step when God shows us what that next step is.
[00:47:28]
(29 seconds)
#ReadyWhenCalled
In other words, yes, yes, the kingdom has already begun, but it's not yet complete. And that's what I think that Advent is like. It's why our little baby Jesus is right here. Because the kingdom has already begun. And yet, it's not complete. God isn't finished. The word isn't finished. The world isn't finished. And neither is God. God continues. God continues to show up in the world. God continues to be here among us. God with us continues to be here, right here, in this place, right this minute.
[00:52:04]
(56 seconds)
#AlreadyNotYet
``Advent is a prophetic waiting. Advent is where joy gets its courage, where hope rolls up its sleeves, where peace puts its boots on, where love refuses to sit quietly and wait its turn. Prophetic waiting says we wait for peace by making peace. We wait for justice by pursuing justice. We wait for reconciliation by doing the hard work of forgiveness. We wait for joy by choosing joy, choosing joy over and over again, especially when it makes absolutely no sense.
[00:55:14]
(37 seconds)
#PropheticWaiting
Prophetic waiting says we wait for peace by making peace. We wait for justice by pursuing justice. We wait for reconciliation by doing the hard work of forgiveness. We wait for joy by choosing joy, choosing joy over and over again, especially when it makes absolutely no sense. And I submit to you that joy is not an emotion. It's not the feeling that we get once everything is fine.
[00:55:30]
(29 seconds)
#JoyIsChoice
You see, the Grinch was waiting too, but not waiting with courage. The Grinch was waiting with resentment. The Grinch was waiting with bitterness. He let bitterness grow like weeds in his heart. And what was it that changed? What was it that changed the Grinch's mind? It was the sound of joy sung in the dark, even when all the stuff was gone. The Who's who dared to sing joy with empty hands. Joy that wasn't dependent on conditions. Joy that wasn't waiting for circumstances to improve.
[00:59:00]
(43 seconds)
#JoyOverBitterness
Joy waits with courage. James says, strengthen your heart. Strengthen your heart. Y'all, that's Advent language right there. Strengthen your hearts. While you're waiting for healing, strengthen your hearts while you're waiting, while you're advocating for justice. Strengthen your hearts when the answers are slow, when the news is heavy, when the systems seem unmovable, when prayers seem unanswered. Unanswered, strengthen your heart.
[01:00:55]
(34 seconds)
#StrengthenYourHeart
Joy that protests against despair. Joy that sings in the dark. Joy that believes God is still sending light into the world. Joy that waits with courage and works with hope. Maybe Christmas perhaps means a little bit more that way. And maybe, just maybe, we are meant to be the ones who show the world what more looks like.
[01:03:04]
(33 seconds)
#JoyInDarkness
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