By Bianca Schaefer

Advent always begins in the dark. The candles are unlit, the nights lengthen, and the world seems to exhale a deeper kind of weariness. For many, this season brings a surprising mix of longing and joy, expectation and ache. Advent doesn’t rush us past that tension—it invites us to sit in it.

Unlike the frantic pace of December, Advent moves slowly. It begins not with celebration but with anticipation—a holy kind of waiting that forms us more than we realize.

Christians throughout history have used these four weeks not only to remember Christ’s first coming in Bethlehem, but to awaken their hearts to His second coming. Advent is a practice of living between two arrivals, trusting that every promise God has made will be kept.

This is why the first theme of Advent is Hope—not the thin optimism we offer ourselves when things look bleak, but a rugged, radiant hope grounded in the character of God.

Hope That Lights the Dark

“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

Isaiah wrote those words to a people who knew exile, oppression, and disappointment. Their circumstances didn’t look hopeful, but God called them to see what had not yet happened. Advent invites us into that same posture: to stand in the dark and declare that light is coming—not because we feel it, but because God promised it.

Hope, in Scripture, is deeply connected to God’s faithfulness. It is not wishful thinking; it is anchored certainty. It’s the confidence that God is already at work in the shadows, preparing a dawn we can’t yet see.

And often, that kind of hope forms most deeply when we’re waiting. Waiting stretches our faith. It clears out lesser hopes. It teaches us that God’s timing is not delay—it's preparation.

When Hope Feels Costly

But honestly? Hope can feel risky. Especially when we’ve been disappointed. Especially when the world feels heavy. Especially when our own stories don’t look like what we prayed for.

But the beauty of Advent is this: Hope isn’t something we muster; it’s something we receive.

Hope begins with acknowledging our hunger for healing, restoration, justice, and joy—and then lifting our eyes to the One who fulfills every longing in His perfect way.

Jesus didn’t come into a world that was ready for Him. He came into a world desperate for Him. And He still does.

If your hope feels fragile this year, you’re in good company. The first Advent began with people who waited their entire lives for a Messiah they never saw with their own eyes. Yet the promise was still fulfilled. God always keeps His word.

A Practice: Lighting the First Candle

If you are observing Advent at home, take a moment this week to light the first candle—the candle of Hope. Let its small flame remind you that the light of Christ is not intimidated by darkness. Speak aloud a promise of God that you’re clinging to this season. Let this be a sacred pause, a moment to breathe in the truth that hope is not lost. Hope is rising.

Scripture Meditation

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful.” — Hebrews 10:23

Read it slowly. Notice the confidence—not in yourself, but in the One who promised.

Advent Week 1: Hope — When Waiting Feels Like Worship

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