Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

We enter today into the season of Advent, a time marked not by frantic activity or commercial frenzy, but by holy anticipation. Advent is the Church’s deep breath—its pause, its widening of the heart, its long look toward the horizon. It is the season in which we remember that we are a people who wait—not passively, not anxiously, but expectantly, like watchmen waiting for the morning, like a bride waiting for the bridegroom, like soil waiting for the rain.

Advent speaks to our deepest human reality: that we are always longing for something beyond ourselves. We long for justice where there is injustice, healing where there is brokenness, clarity where there is confusion, peace where there is conflict, and redemption where sin tightens its grip. Advent stands in this longing and declares boldly: God is coming.

But what does it truly mean to say that God comes? What does it mean that the Creator of the universe steps into His creation?

Let us listen again to the words of the prophet Isaiah:
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” (Isaiah 9:2)

This verse captures the essence of Advent: light entering darkness, dawn breaking into night, God entering the long ache of human history. Isaiah is not naïve; he is not ignoring the darkness. He names it honestly. Israel knew exile, defeat, fear, and disorientation. And yet Isaiah dares to proclaim that God’s purposes will not be hindered by the world’s shadow. A light has dawned—not because the people found their way out of darkness, but because God entered it.

1. Advent Begins in Darkness

Many people think of Advent as a warm or sentimental season—twinkling lights, beautiful music, candlelight services, and nativity scenes. But Advent begins with a more somber note: the world is not as it should be. Things are broken. We are broken. We experience fear, division, loneliness, loss, and uncertainty. The world groans.

Scripture never shies away from this reality.
The Psalms cry out, “How long, O Lord?”
The prophets lament injustice among the nations.
Even creation groans, waiting for redemption.

This is why Advent matters so profoundly: it gives us permission to name the darkness without being consumed by it. Advent tells us that we don’t have to pretend everything is fine. We don’t have to rush to joy before we are ready. We don’t have to solve the world’s problems in our own strength.

We simply have to wait for the One who comes into our darkness.

2. Advent Declares: God Comes Near

In every other religion, the movement is human beings reaching toward God. Advent proclaims the opposite: God reaches toward us. God does not wait for us to ascend to Him; He descends to us.

This is the miracle of the incarnation—God taking on flesh, stepping into our vulnerability, breathing our air, touching our wounds, entering our history. In Jesus Christ, God does not remain distant or abstract. He becomes a baby who cries, a child who grows, a man who suffers.

He becomes Emmanuel—God with us.

Not God above us.
Not God against us.
Not God far away.
But God with us.

This truth reorganizes our entire understanding of God. He is not simply a judge, not simply a ruler, not simply a distant deity who watches from afar. He is the God who draws near, who steps into the world’s pain, who knows weakness, who knows tears, who knows loss.

And if God has come near in Christ once, Advent assures us of two more realities: He comes near now, and He will come again in glory.

3. Advent Shapes How We Live in the Present

Advent is not only about looking backward to the birth of Christ or forward to His return. It is also about living faithfully in the in-between. We are people between the promise and the fulfillment, between dawn and full day, between Christ’s first coming and His final coming.

How then shall we live?

a. We live with hope.

Hope in Scripture is not optimism. It is not wishful thinking. It is the confident expectation that God will do what He promised, even when circumstances seem bleak. Advent hope is like the first streaks of morning light—fragile, faint, but undeniable.

b. We live with repentance.

John the Baptist, the voice crying in the wilderness, calls out: “Prepare the way of the Lord.”
Repentance is not about shame; it’s about clearing the clutter of our hearts, making room for Christ, turning away from what leads to death so we can embrace what leads to life.

c. We live with compassion.

Because God came near to us, we draw near to others—especially the lonely, the hurting, the forgotten. Advent reminds us that the coming King first appeared as a vulnerable child. Therefore, we meet Christ when we meet those in need.

d. We live with watchfulness.

Jesus tells His disciples to stay awake, to keep watch, not in fear but in expectation. The Christian life is one of attentiveness: noticing God’s presence in the ordinary, recognizing His work in small beginnings, being ready for His surprises.

4. The Light Has Dawned, Even if Not Fully

Advent is a season of “already and not yet.” Christ has already come, already defeated sin and death, already brought God’s kingdom to earth. And yet the world is still waiting for the fullness of that kingdom.

We feel this tension daily.

We see goodness, beauty, and grace in the world—acts of love, moments of peace, glimpses of redemption. And yet we also see suffering, hate, injustice, and chaos. Advent helps us hold both: we celebrate the light that has dawned while longing for the light that is yet to come.

This is why Advent is not escapism. It is not pretending. It is not denial. It is defiant hope—lighting candles in the dark and proclaiming that the darkness will not win.

5. The God Who Will Come Again

The final horizon of Advent is the second coming of Christ, when He will make all things new. Revelation describes this promise beautifully:

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain.”

Advent reminds us that history is not cycling endlessly, nor spiraling out of control. It is moving toward a glorious fulfillment—a world healed of its wounds, restored to its purpose, gathered around its true King.

Jesus came once in humility; He will come again in glory.
He came once in weakness; He will come again in power.
He came once to bear our sin; He will come again to banish sin forever.

This is the hope that sustains us.

Conclusion: Make Room for the King

As we enter Advent, let us slow down, quiet our hearts, and make space for the One who comes.

Let us allow the light of Christ to enter the dark corners of our lives.
Let us lean into hope even when hope feels costly.
Let us practice repentance, compassion, and watchfulness.
Let us remember that God is not far away—He is Emmanuel, God with us.

And let us wait—not with anxiety, but with anticipation, with longing, with joy—because the God who came in Bethlehem still comes, even now, and He will come again.

May your hearts be filled with hope this Advent season, and may you encounter the God who comes near.

Amen.