I’m looking forward to Christmas now, though I’m not yet finished being grateful! I’m a day behind with this Advent post, but it was worth the wait to make a beautiful space at our table. I hope you’ll join me in the joy.
It’s Christmas season– a beautiful time of light and hope.
I felt compelled to have an Advent wreath this year. I don’t want to get caught up in just spending time and money without it having any meaning. (Then I watched Ann Voskamp’s latest vlog post here and was inspired to go big or go home. I even bought her book, The Greatest Gift, on sale at Mardel for $10, though I haven’t had a chance to read from it.)
I want to wring the meaning from it all and focus inward, because you and I desperately need to know there is a reason for the season.
I’d like to share that time with you, because we are all family.
The original meaning for the word advent in Latin is a coming, the expectant waiting for an arrival. During Advent season we begin counting days of waiting for the Messiah’s birth, but, ultimately, we also know we are awaiting His return.
Advent is about looking forward while acknowledging what has already occurred.
What we know has already occurred is that Messiah came to tear the veil and make God fully accessible.
Immanuel God with us! (Matthew 1:23)
That in itself is worth celebrating, and not just at Christmas time.
What we wait for is the day we will be reunited with our Creator face to face…
First Sunday of Advent: Candle of Hope
There is a weightiness to the word hope.
Hope was something I held fast to as a young girl who didn’t know her place in this world.
I hoped to someday belong.
I hoped to someday wake up and be joyfully received into what I imagined was the perfect family.
I hoped to feel whole and wholly loved.
Now, as a grown woman, I understand I don’t always feel at home because I’m not fully there yet, though I choose eternity minute by minute.
In fact, once I make myself too comfortable in this world, I’m actually in danger of failing to seek out hope–like a comfortable couch can become dangerous to our lifespan as we sit away our limited days.
I don’t want to waste any time, so I’m learning to live uncomfortably. Yet hope moves me toward peace in spite of my discomfort.
Now I’m beginning to see my identity, my sense of belonging, dies with Christ daily. And my hope should be hinged only on the cross with Him.
Hope means I don’t have to wonder why I don’t belong because I know I’m simply waiting. I have been and will always be an alien, a sojourner.
Hope means I am being made new until the day when all things will be made new again.
Now I understand there is no perfect family, just a large messy extended one–the macro version of the micro we are raising or grew up in.
Hope gives us all the same last name, Sister and Brother Christian.
Now I know I am whole only in Christ.
I have been wholly loved by a Holy Love.
A Savior was born into the same world where I was born only to be sacrificed for me (John 3:16).
What more can I hope for?
So if you’re feeling out of place, Brother or Sister, let your hope lie in the One who created you, and wait with me for the day of His return, but celebrate with joy that comes from hope this Christmas season and beyond.
Gather your extended family, light your candle, and let your hope shine in anticipation.
Read this scripture aloud as you light the candle of Hope with your family, then use it as a point of study or discussion:
“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain,” Hebrews 6:19
What do you think hope means in this scripture?
What do you hope for this Christmas season?