Advent hope often emerges when circumstances seem most hopeless. The people of Israel waited centuries for deliverance, enduring exile, oppression, and loss, clinging to the promise of a coming Savior. Even Mary, a young girl facing shame and uncertainty, was called to trust in God’s surprising plan. In seasons of darkness, when hope feels distant or impossible, God’s promises remain steadfast. True hope is not rooted in the absence of hardship, but in the assurance that God is at work, even in the waiting. [31:44]
Isaiah 9:6 (ESV)
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Reflection: Where in your life do you feel most hopeless or in the dark right now, and how might God be inviting you to trust His promises in that place?
The story of Jesus’ birth is not one of comfort and ease, but of chaos, danger, and uncertainty. Mary and Joseph became refugees, fleeing violence and the threat of death, while families in Bethlehem suffered unimaginable loss. Yet, even in the midst of fear and upheaval, God was present—guiding, protecting, and fulfilling His redemptive plan. Advent hope is not the absence of chaos, but the presence of Jesus with us in the storm. [39:19]
Matthew 2:13-15 (ESV)
Now when they had departed, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” And he rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed to Egypt and remained there until the death of Herod.
I love coming “home” to Rexdale, especially in Advent, because this season is about the arrival of Hope Himself. We name how thin hope can feel right now—war, loss, polarization, anxiety—and we remember that the first Advent was not tidy either. Isaiah 9 promised a ruler who would carry government on his shoulders, yet when the promise arrived, it came through a teenage girl’s scandal, a husband’s confusion, an empire’s rage, a midnight escape to Egypt, and a massacre that ripped futures out of families. From the beginning, hope did not avoid chaos; it entered it.
That is still how Jesus moves. In Southeast Asia, colleagues created dignifying work to rescue children from exploitation and employ their parents—beauty rising through ashes. Yet we also reckoned with the disparity: Christians stewarded trillions, but so little reaches those who have never heard the good news. Advent asks us not to sentimentalize hope but to embody it: presence that costs us something, generosity that reorders our budgets, love that refuses to look away.
In the Middle East, I sat with an underground church that meets under threat. They don’t ask if suffering will come, but when, and they prepare with worship, Scripture, and courage. When I asked why they stay when exile might be safer, they said, “If we leave, who will be the church in our country? Jesus is the only hope for our country.” Our presence told them they are not forgotten; theirs told me that hope is not fragile. It is resilient, communal, and stubbornly joyful.
In Ukraine, at the front, we saw a parking lot of burnt vehicles turned into art—a quiet defiance of death. A man living under an unexploded bomb told us, “My life is in God’s hands, not this bomb.” Paul’s words landed with new weight: “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” This is the heart of it. Advent hope is not the absence of chaos but the presence of Jesus. I know some of us are walking through deep waters—relational, financial, physical, emotional. Emmanuel does not always calm the storm on our timetable; He climbs into the boat. And because He does, the church can be the embodied hope of God—present, generous, resilient—so that our homes, neighborhoods, and nations might overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
And while the rest Of the world Reads about humanity At its worst In this region All you're going to read About this region Is humanity at its worst But here's the thing God is weaving A grand narrative Of humanity At its best What he had dreamed About for humanity At its best In the form of churches Planted Communities transformed In the hard And dark places Of the world [00:51:21] (25 seconds) #WeavingHopeCommunities
That is Advent hope In the midst of persecution Which brings me To my one sentence idea For this morning Advent hope Is not the absence of chaos But the presence of Jesus There will always be chaos There will always be war There will always be rumors Of wars There will always be that storm And it's not the absence Of that You wonder why Jesus Had to go all the way down Into the depths of hell For three days That is the gospel [00:53:56] (40 seconds) #AdventHopeInChrist
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