Read Isaiah 11:1–5 and Jeremiah 33:14–16.

I have three daughters, and I often consider them in wonder. I simply cannot wrap my mind around how whole worlds—my daughters’ lives and identities and futures—are generated from a microscopic, fertilized egg. How is the miracle and mystery of human life possible? God only knows.

From the prophet Isaiah’s time on down through Jeremiah’s time, generations of Israelites in the northern and southern kingdoms experienced destruction of their land, lives, families, and livelihoods as God’s judgment for their sins. All hope for a good outcome was lost. Too many generations had experienced death in a thousand different ways for them to believe their circumstances would turn out any differently. And yet they still ached for a savior to rescue them, for a messiah to snatch them from the clutches of their enemies.

When hope vanished, when they were living as oppressed aliens in empires of destruction, the prophet Isaiah and later the prophet Jeremiah both spoke hope. Through them, God communicated this promise of hope, described as a tiny shoot coming “up from the stump of Jesse,” like a “righteous Branch” sprouting from “David’s line” (Isa. 11:1; Jer. 33:15).

Generations passed before God’s promised hope appeared. And yet fulfill his promise he did, through the advent of our Lord Jesus Christ. As generations of God’s people wondered if God would ever show up, at just the right time, Jesus came. Jesus, who is “Our Righteous Savior” (Jer. 33:16), the one on whom the Spirit rests, the one full of righteousness and justice.

In his humanity, Jesus sprang from the divine seed entrusted to Joseph and Mary. Jesus: a tiny shoot sprouting from the stump of Jesse who contains all worlds and possible worlds—for in him and “through him are all things made” and “in him all things hold together” (John 1:3; Col. 1:17). Again, I pause in wonder, in awe.

Just as I cannot fathom the nature of my daughters’ miraculous existence, I cannot fathom the mysteries of God’s salvation or the whos, whats, wheres, and whys of God’s timing. But I do know that God keeps his promises—in history, to his people, and to individuals. God always shows up. Always. He shows up when we least expect it and in ways we don’t expect—when all hope seems lost. Indeed, our God shows up like a tiny green shoot in a forest that has been burned to the ground. Watch for it.

Marlena Graves is a doctoral student and adjunct seminary professor. She is the author of several books, including The Way Up Is Down: Becoming Yourself by Forgetting Yourself.

Read Isaiah 12:2–6; 52:7–10 and Zephaniah 3:14–20.

When you hear home, what comes to mind? For some, the word triggers trauma. Others feel ambivalent toward their notions and memories of home. Some are itching to get away from home. Others never felt at home. And, of course, there are many who are deeply fond of home, who cannot wait to get home. Many who’d even consider themselves “homebodies.”

It is part of the human condition to long for home—for a place where we belong. A place where we can be ourselves, where we are known and loved, and where we feel, well, at home. Home is to be a place of peace, where we are at ease instead of on guard. Home is safe. Ultimately, in some sense, all of us long to be homebodies—to be strangers to alienation.

In Zephaniah 3:20, the Lord says, “At that time I will gather you; at that time I will bring you home.” God promises to one day bring home his people all throughout the world. It is a home of feasting and singing because of all God has accomplished through his salvation (Isa. 52:9, 10). It is a home of regular, free-for-all, spur-of-the-moment flash mobs of celebration. It is a party for the ages because what is too good to be true is true (Zeph. 3:14–15). It is full of glee and praise. It is a place of refuge, where God is our “strength and defense” (Isa. 12:2). In this home, it is a level playing field where the lowly, the oppressed, and the exiles return to the place they feel most themselves (Zeph. 3:19–20). In each of these passages, God was speaking to a particular people in a particular time and place. But these prophecies also expand beyond their immediate context, for coming home is part and parcel of salvation itself.

Jesus echoes these sentiments about home when he proclaims, “Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them” (John 14:23). And earlier, in John 14:3, Jesus tells us that he is preparing a place, a home, just for us.

We are a home to God, at home in God, and God is preparing a home for us. But not just in the bye and bye; here and now we can find a semblance of home and be God’s home to others. We can “bring good news” and invite others to join us (Isa. 52:7). Who wouldn’t want to be in such a home?

Marlena Graves is a doctoral student and adjunct seminary professor. She is the author of several books, including The Way Up Is Down: Becoming Yourself by Forgetting Yourself.

Read Isaiah 42:1–7.

Sometimes we forget that we are idol makers. We cling to the idols of power, wealth, pride, other people, institutions, misinformation, tradition. And sometimes we also forget that God is not silent in the face of idolatry and evil. He exposes their empty promises and reveals Christ as the remedy for our idol-making tendencies.

In Isaiah 42, God responds to the empty idolatry and meaningless false gods he addressed in the previous chapter by announcing the coming of his servant in whom he delights, and chose, and in whom his Spirit dwells. While idols are weak and powerless, God’s promised, faithful servant will bring forth justice to the entire world. He will not tread on the vulnerable or boast in pride. Instead, his tender compassion will be shown toward those who are weak, hurting, or whose faith is faltering.

So much is happening in our world today that can cause us to question where God is when the attraction of idols deludes even the most faithful among us, when injustice envelops our world like a dark cloud, and when the weak can barely breathe because their cries for relief have rendered them weary. This passage reminds us that the promised servant will one day take all that is wrong with the world and make it right. He’s chosen by God to bring justice in humility and love. He’s called by God to be a covenant for his people, the blameless agent to carry out the word and will of God.

In Matthew 12:15–21, after Jesus has healed many people who were part of a large crowd that followed him, the Word tells us that “this was to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet Isaiah” in Isaiah 42:1–4. All the promises of God reside in Jesus and have their fulfillment in him (Matt. 5:17; 2 Cor. 1:20). Jesus embodies truth, justice, righteousness, faithfulness, humility, meekness, and every fruit of the Spirit. And for all who call him “Lord,” through our union with him, our lives are to reflect the same—albeit imperfectly. For only Jesus has the power to bring the nations out of darkness and into his marvelous light. Only Jesus can set prisoners free from sin and darkness.

As we reflect this Advent season on God’s faithfulness to send his servant, may we remember that while justice was ultimately served on the cross, it is also a future reality that we long for as we await the Second Advent.

Kristie Anyabwile is the editor of His Testimonies, My Heritage and the author of Literarily: How Understanding Bible Genres Transforms Bible Study (March 2022).

Read Isaiah 9:1–2.

I won’t soon forget a short text message exchange I recently had with a friend from out of town. He was doing the whole NYC tourist thing. I asked him for an overview of his itinerary. He responded via text: “first stop is to the 9/11 memorial.” Reading those words put me in an immediate, unforced state of reflection.

You see, although I’m a native New Yorker, I’ve never been to the 9/11 memorial. It’s not that I don’t know how to get there. It’s just … well … darkness. I’d have to face the darkness of that day and be reminded of the ongoing manifestations of darkness that pervade our world—the wars, the racism, the loss and fragile nature of life. So much darkness.

Yet, with all the darkness before us, Advent situates our world within a larger, more hopeful story. It’s the story of God’s overpowering light among his people. A light that illuminates the individual and collective darkness we experience and witness. A healing light.

Advent invites us into a prayerful expectation, a holy waiting, an attentive gaze. What are we awaiting? Resplendent light. God’s light.

Isaiah announces that a great light is coming—coming from an unexpected source. It’s making its way through a child, the Messiah. This light is not to be found in some new political power, or in some cultural movement. It’s not located in a particular ideology, but rather is found through the living-God-in-flesh. This is an important theme in Scripture, picked up by John, the Gospel writer. In John’s words, the light that has come is not some impersonal electromagnetic radiation. It’s the staggering truth of the personal manifestation of God’s very self in Jesus Christ. Jesus is the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it (1:5).

Isaiah prophetically speaks about a day that would be coming—a day that has already come in Jesus. Yet we also await another day when the darkness will be fully and finally overpowered. This is the promise in this season.

Advent reminds us that no matter how dark it gets, the light has come, and the light is coming. So be of good cheer! The darkness you feel today will not have the last word. Neither will the grief, uncertainty, and despair. As Wendell Berry once said, “It gets darker and darker and darker, and then Jesus is born.”

Rich Villodas is the lead pastor of New Life Fellowship in Queens, New York. He is the author of The Deeply Formed Life: Five Transformative Values to Root Us in the Way of Jesus.