Advent: Restoring Voices and Speaking for the Oppressed

Devotional

Day 1: Advent meets our weariness with tender mercy

Advent does not scold tired hearts; it meets us right where we are. Like Zechariah, seasons of silence can become sacred classrooms where trust is formed and fear loosens. God’s faithfulness holds our unfolding stories, even when we cannot see the ending yet. The light begins to rise before we feel it warm our faces, and that is enough for today. You do not need to force joy; you can arrive tired, uncertain, and hopeful all at once, and God will guide your feet into the way of peace [30:52].

Luke 1:78–79 — Because God is tender and compassionate, light breaks in from above for people sitting in darkness, and that light directs our steps onto the path where peace becomes real.

Reflection: Where do you sense God inviting you to let silence become listening rather than discouragement, and what small practice could help you watch for the dawn this week?

Day 2: Longing is not the opposite of faith

Elizabeth and Zechariah carried an ache that had learned to whisper. Their hope did not shout; it endured. God met them not in the loud moment of certainty, but when life seemed settled into “it will always be this way.” Advent honors this kind of careful hope and treats longing as holy ground. Bring your deep desires to God today, not polished or perfect, just honest and present [33:08].

Luke 1:57–58 — When Elizabeth’s time arrived, she gave birth to a son, and the neighbors noticed that the Lord had poured out mercy on her, so they joined her joy.

Reflection: What long-held desire have you kept so quiet that you rarely name it—how might you bring it to God in prayer tonight, simply and sincerely?

Day 3: Listening to Elizabeth: amplifying silenced voices

The community assumed tradition would decide the child’s name, but Elizabeth spoke with clarity: “His name is John.” Her words were doubted until Zechariah wrote them down, and then his own voice returned. In God’s economy, listening to the one overlooked becomes the doorway to freedom and praise. Discipleship looks like honoring dignity and trusting that God speaks through those the crowd ignores. Where someone’s voice has been pushed to the margins, love helps the truth be heard [34:56].

Luke 1:59–64 — On the eighth day they came to name the child after his father, but the mother said, “John.” When others questioned it, the father wrote the same name; immediately his speech returned and he began blessing God, and everyone was stunned.

Reflection: Who around you has been saying something true that others overlook, and what is one tangible way you can support and repeat their words this week?

Day 4: Love speaks up; faith opposes injustice

Love does not stay quiet when neighbors are dehumanized. The way of Jesus moves toward those afraid, detained, or dismissed, and refuses to treat any person as disposable. Advent courage is not bluster; it is steady loyalty to mercy and truth in public. God rescues so that people can serve without fear—this is why faith must find its voice for the oppressed. Ask for a brave kindness that tells the truth and protects the vulnerable [46:40].

Luke 1:71–75 — God is keeping promises made long ago: delivering us from hostile hands so that, free from fear, we can live our days before God in holy, right ways.

Reflection: When you hear dehumanizing talk about immigrants or any neighbor, what specific phrase or action could you prepare in advance to respond with courage and compassion?

Day 5: Incarnate compassion: showing up with dignity

God’s love shows up, not as a photo opportunity, but as presence that restores dignity. It sounds like borrowed words on a phone to bridge languages, like a warm coat offered without shame, like food placed quietly into waiting hands. Mercy does not humiliate; it honors the image of God in the other. Advent invites you to make room—practically, humbly, joyfully—for love to become concrete. Love does not shame; love speaks up, and love shows up [59:29].

Matthew 25:35–36 — I was hungry and you fed me; I was a stranger and you welcomed me in; I lacked clothing and you covered me; I was vulnerable and you came near.

Reflection: Who is one person or family you could quietly help this week—without announcing it—and what is your next small step to show up with dignity for them?

Sermon Summary

We began with Advent’s quiet: a prayer to the God whose tender mercy keeps drawing near, even when we are tired. In Luke’s story of Elizabeth and Zechariah, time slows down—months of waiting and nine months of Zechariah’s silence—until an unexpected mercy arrives. The baby is named John, not because convention demands it, but because promise does. Zechariah’s tongue loosens only after he aligns with the promise God has already spoken through Elizabeth. His first words are not about himself; they are a song of covenant, mercy, and a dawning peace that guides our feet. Advent does not shame our weariness or demand cheer. It invites us to make room: for mercy, for truth, for a hope that grows quietly before it speaks aloud.

From there, I asked us to consider those whose voices have been muted in our own community—especially undocumented neighbors living under the weight of detention, fear, and disappearance. This is not “politics.” This is following Jesus, who lifts tables when systems exploit and dehumanize. I rejected the lie that a person can be “illegal”; actions may be unlawful, but human beings bear dignity. We named the hypocrisy of benefiting from exploited labor while condemning the laborer, and the silence that lets systems grind on. Advent teaches us to honor tender longings and to let our waiting ripen into courageous speech.

I shared stories from our pantry: a family of six we could only help by translating through a phone, and an older woman who needed a coat but hesitated to take one because asking for help already cost her so much. Dignity matters. We don’t take pictures; we take responsibility. In this season, God restores voices and asks us to use ours. Like Zechariah, we listen long enough to know what to name—and then we speak. We don’t need to force joy or pretend everything is fine. We make room for mercy to work, we stand with the weary, and we lend our voices and our hands until hope finds its voice among us.

Key Takeaways

1. Longing is where faith lives Longing is not a failure of belief; it is the space where trust learns to breathe. Elizabeth and Zechariah carry their ache quietly and faithfully, and God honors it in God’s time. Faith does not erase desire; it sanctifies it by anchoring it to God’s steadfastness. Let your unspoken hopes be prayers that keep vigil with the Promise-Maker. [33:26]
2. Name the promise, not convention Elizabeth’s “His name is John” defies the pull of tradition, and Zechariah’s tablet agrees before his tongue is loosed. Aligning with God’s promise often means reimagining what “makes sense” to others. The courage to name what God names is how newness enters the world. Sometimes obedience is as simple—and as costly—as saying the right name. [34:06]
3. Silence can ripen courageous speech Zechariah’s silence was not emptiness; it was apprenticeship—listening, releasing control, learning trust. He emerges not with self-justification but with a song of mercy. Our seasons of wordlessness can prune our need to manage outcomes so that, when we speak, we speak truth. Wait until your words are weighted with God’s tenderness. [34:30]
4. Mercy makes room for the weary Advent does not demand cheer; it invites space for the tired and the uncertain. Mercy does not deny reality; it insists reality is not finished. Making room—for lament, for truth, for small beginnings—is how peace takes its first steps among us. You don’t have to force joy for love to find you. [36:32]
5. Use your voice for the silenced Silence in the face of injustice is a form of consent. Following Jesus means protecting the vulnerable, confronting exploitative systems, and dignifying every person as a neighbor, not a category. Speak, advocate, and act so that mercy has hands and justice has a voice. Let Zechariah’s recovered voice become your own. [51:55]

Youtube Chapters

[00:00] - Welcome
[04:58] - Opening Prayer of Liberation
[05:59] - Advent Candle: Imagine the Impossible
[24:03] - Gospel Reading: Luke 1:57–80
[27:18] - Zechariah’s Silence and Sign
[30:22] - Advent Meets Us in Weariness
[33:26] - Longing as an Act of Faith
[34:30] - Silence as Holy Listening
[36:14] - Making Room, Not Forcing Joy
[38:42] - Why Speaking Up Isn’t “Politics”
[42:45] - The Myths About “Doing It Right”
[48:07] - Food Pantry Stories: Dignity in Practice
[51:55] - You Cannot Be Silent
[60:05] - Prayers for the Church and World
[64:23] - Sending and Invitation to Christmas Eve

Bible Study Guide

Bible reading
- Bold Luke 1:57–80

Observation questions

In Luke 1:59–64, who wanted to name the child after his father, who said “His name is John,” and what happened immediately after Zechariah wrote those words?
In Zechariah’s song (Luke 1:68–79), what specific words or images describe God’s work and character? Which line feels most central to the song?
How is Advent described as meeting people in their tiredness rather than demanding cheer? What phrases were used to say this? [30:22]
What details from the coat story at the pantry show how costly it can be to ask for help, and how dignity was protected in that moment? [50:43]

Interpretation questions

Luke ties the return of Zechariah’s voice to his public agreement with the God-given name “John” (Luke 1:63–64). What does this suggest about aligning with God’s promise rather than social convention when newness is being born?
If Zechariah’s silence was a season of listening and letting go of control ([34:30]), what inner habits might God be pruning in people during their own quiet seasons so that their later words carry mercy and truth?
“The dawn from on high will break upon us… to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:78–79). What might “the way of peace” look like for neighbors who live with detention, fear, or disappearance? [46:40]
John is called to “prepare the way” and give “knowledge of salvation” (Luke 1:76–77). How does the call, “You cannot be silent,” fit with that prophetic vocation in a community today? [51:55]

Application questions

Longing as faith: What unspoken hope are you carrying right now? How will you honor it before God this week—write it down, light a candle, sit in quiet, or share it with a trusted friend? [33:26]
Name the promise, not convention: Where do you feel pressure to keep doing what “makes sense” to others? What would it look like to “name John” there—to say and do the faithful thing even if it breaks with habit? [34:06]
Silence that ripens courageous speech: When in your day can you set aside 10 minutes of quiet to listen—no fixing, no defending, no performing—so your words gain tenderness and weight? What boundary will help you keep that space? [34:30]
Mercy makes room for the weary: Who around you seems tired or uncertain right now? What is one small, concrete way you can make room for them this week—a ride, a meal, child care, help with a bill, or simply unhurried presence? [36:32]
Use your voice for the silenced: What specific step will you take to stand with undocumented neighbors—learn how local detention works, attend a support meeting, contact a representative, contribute to a bond/legal fund, or offer a ride to an appointment? Choose one and name when you’ll do it. [51:55]
Dignity in practice: If you serve or donate, how will you protect dignity—no photos, ask names and pronouns, offer choices, use translation tools, or follow the person’s lead? What is one change you will make this week to align your help with honor? [51:35]

Sermon Clips

I guess they weren't listening to Elizabeth. So they asked me what I thought. They should have listened to Elizabeth. They treated her as if she were the one with no voice. Why didn't they believe her? People listen to me because I am a priest. But I know and trust Elizabeth. She is a wise person. God speaks to her. [00:28:03] (25 seconds) #listenToTheWisdom

I have heard the stories of how God saved the poor and oppressed all my life. As a priest, I thought the people of Israel about God's liberation throughout our history. And that was happening for me and my family. We were part of God's story. I suppose we always were. This gratitude bubbled up. And before I knew it, the Holy Spirit was speaking through me. My first words were a poem of celebration, of remembrance, of love. I reminded everyone that God had been faithful to us since the beginning, rescuing us, showing mercy to us, and saving us all along the way. [00:29:05] (41 seconds) #rememberGodsFaithfulness

Advent does not scold us for that weariness. Advent does not demand cheer. Advent does meet us exactly where we are. The story Luke gives us today does not rush toward of joy. It unfolds slowly, shaped by time, waiting, and silence. There is a story for people who know what it means to hope carefully. Elizabeth and Zechariah are not young dreamers, imagining what life might become. They are people who have lived long enough to know disappointment. [00:30:39] (41 seconds) #adventMeetsYou

``They have prayed prayers that were not answered on their timeline. They have learned how to live faithfully within what seems settled and unchangeable. And yet Luke tells us that in the fullness of time, a child is born. Not when hope is loud. Not when certainty is strong. But when life has settled into what seems permanent. That matters. [00:31:20] (31 seconds) #faithfulInWaiting

Elizabeth and Zechariah carry a longing just as tender. They do not speak it loudly. They do not center themselves in the story. They simply live with it. Faithfully. Patiently. Quietly. And Luke tells us that God honors that longing. Advent reminds us that longing is not the opposite of faith. Often, longing is where faith lives. When the child is born, the community gathers to celebrate. [00:33:12] (36 seconds) #longingIsFaith

Luke offers us reassurance. Silence does not mean God is absent. And when Zechariah finally speaks, he does not talk about himself. He sings. The song is not sentimental. It means mercy. It loosens fear. It imagines life for people who feel as though they are living in shadow. This is not denial of reality. It is trust that reality is not finished. [00:35:05] (39 seconds) #silenceIsNotAbsence

Like so many Christian stories, Christmas stories. Luke's story is not really about everything being fixed. It is about restoration beginning. It is about love being remembered. It is about God's faithfulness showing up in ways that are quiet but transformative. John, the child born in Elizabeth's home, will not be the light himself. He will prepare the way. He will point beyond himself to something greater. [00:35:44] (34 seconds) #restorationBegins

Advent is not about having all the answers. It is about making room. Making room for mercy. Making room for truth. Making room for God to do what we cannot do on our own. As we move closer to Christmas, this story offers us grace. You do not have to force joy. You do not have to pretend everything is fine. You are allowed to arrive tired, uncertain, and hopeful all at once. [00:36:17] (35 seconds) #arriveAsYouAre

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