Advent Reading
Matthew 3:1-12, Romans 15:3-13, Isaiah 11:1-10, Psalm 72:1-19
Matthew 3:1-12, Romans 15:3-13, Isaiah 11:1-10, Psalm 72:1-19
Advent is often described as a season of waiting. Waiting for the coming Messiah. Waiting for renewal. Waiting for peace in a world that feels anything but peaceful. Yet Scripture tells us that Advent is not simply passive waiting. It is active preparation. It is holy expectancy. It is invitation. It is God meeting His people in the middle of the mess and forming something new inside them.
To understand Advent only as calm candlelight and quiet hymns would be to miss a crucial truth: Advent is a construction zone. It is the season in which God sets up orange cones around our souls. Not because He is frustrated with us, but because He loves us enough to rebuild what has been damaged and straighten what has grown crooked. He loves us enough to clear debris, lay new foundations, and carve out a road that can carry hope into our lives and through our lives to others.
The Scriptures for this season reveal this beautifully. Matthew introduces us to John the Baptist crying out in the wilderness, calling people to prepare the way of the Lord. Paul writes to the Roman church describing a community shaped by hope, unity, endurance, and welcome. Together, these passages offer a vision of spiritual roadwork that happens both privately within the heart and publicly within the community of faith. They speak to a God who does not wait for perfect conditions before entering the story, but who gladly steps into the unfinished places and begins forming something beautiful.
Today we explore that twofold movement. First, the personal call to prepare the way for Christ. Second, the communal shaping into a people of hope. Along the way we will consider what it means to repent with hope rather than shame, how Scripture forms endurance in us, and why Advent never ends with personal spirituality alone but widens into hospitality, acceptance, and mission.
This is a season under construction, and the work God is doing matters.
The Wilderness Is Where Renewal Begins
Matthew tells us that when John appeared, he did not come preaching in a synagogue or palace. He did not step onto a polished platform or into a well-decorated room. He came preaching in the wilderness. His voice rose in the dry, quiet, uncomfortable places where life often feels thin and unpredictable.
This detail matters because the wilderness is a symbol. It represents places that feel unstructured, unprotected, unpolished. Most of us do not choose the wilderness willingly. We stumble into it through disappointment, exhaustion, transition, uncertainty, grief, or simply the long grind of ordinary days. Yet again and again, Scripture shows that the wilderness is where God begins His work. Before Israel entered the Promised Land, God formed them in the desert. Before Jesus began His ministry, the Spirit led Him into the wilderness. Before hope blooms, it often takes root in soil that feels barren.
John’s appearance in the wilderness reminds us that true spiritual renewal rarely begins in the comfortable or predictable places. It begins where our guard is down. It begins when our routines are disrupted. It begins when we discover that what we have been building on our own cannot hold the weight we are carrying.
John’s message was straightforward: “Repent, because the kingdom of heaven has come near.” His words sound strong because they are strong. But beneath them is deep hope, not condemnation. Repentance is not about shaming ourselves. It is about clearing the road for the coming King. It is about reorienting our lives so that we can receive what God wants to give. It is about preparing space for healing, rescue, renewal, and the presence of Christ.
Eugene Peterson captured this beautifully when he wrote, “Repentance is not an emotion. It is a decision. It is deciding that you have been wrong in supposing that you could manage your own life.” It is the moment we stop insisting we can pave our own road and allow God to take the lead.
Repentance is roadwork. It is not self-loathing. It is self-surrender. It is not punishment. It is preparation. It is choosing to believe there is a better way and that God Himself is bringing that better way near.
Advent invites us to look honestly at the wilderness places in our lives. Not with fear, but with expectation. Because those are the places God loves to rebuild.
The Gift of Spiritual Roadwork
Anyone who has driven through a construction zone knows the feeling. Cones, detours, rumbling equipment, uneven pavement. It feels like progress will never come. You pass the same machines day after day and wonder if anything is actually changing. But then one morning you drive that road again and everything is smooth. Everything is clear. Everything was worth it.
Advent is like that. It does not always feel gentle. It does not always feel tidy. It often feels like God is tearing up old pavement, exposing what lies beneath, and slowing us down when we want to move quickly. But all of this is grace. God is not trying to inconvenience us. He is preparing something better.
When John calls people to repentance, he is not pointing out flaws so they will collapse under guilt. He is preparing them for transformation. He is clearing space so they can receive the Messiah. He is announcing that things do not have to stay the same.
This kind of spiritual roadwork can look like many things.
It can look like slowing down in a season usually ruled by hurry.
It can look like taking inventory of our habits, noticing the ones that feed life and the ones that drain it.
It can look like releasing the grudges we have held far too long.
It can look like reordering our priorities so that Christ is not squeezed into the margins.
It can look like letting God smooth the rough edges of impatience, criticism, fear, or self-reliance.
Spiritual preparation is not meant to overwhelm us. It is meant to free us. It reminds us that repentance is always the beginning of renewal.
Fruit That Comes From a Prepared Heart
John’s message did not stop with the call to repent. He added, “Produce fruit consistent with repentance.” In other words, let the inward work of God shape outward change. Let the roadwork show. Let repentance bear fruit.
Fruit does not appear overnight. It grows from something. It grows through seasons of pruning, nourishment, and time. It grows as roots deepen. And the same is true for spiritual fruit.
In Advent, the fruit of repentance is visible in the ways we practice patience in a season that tries to rush us. It is visible in our generosity in a culture that elevates consumption. It is visible in our mercy when judgment feels easier. It is visible in our hope when the world feels dark.
Fruit does not demand perfection. It does not require flawless living. It requires openness to God’s forming work. Repentance clears the road. Fruit reveals what has been planted.
This is why Advent cannot simply be sentimental. It is transformational. It asks us to examine what is growing in our lives. It invites us to consider whether the patterns we cultivate reflect the Kingdom of God or the pressures of the surrounding world.
Fruit grows where soil has been cleared and prepared. Advent invites us to let Christ tend the soil of our hearts.
Hope That Is Formed, Not Fabricated
After hearing John’s call to prepare the way, we turn to Romans 15. Paul is writing to a divided church. Jewish and Gentile Christians struggled over identity, tradition, and unity. Into this division Paul speaks words of encouragement, endurance, and overflow.
He describes hope not as a fleeting feeling but as something God builds in His people. He writes, “For whatever was written in the past was written for our instruction, so that we may have hope through endurance and through the encouragement from the Scriptures.”
According to Paul, hope grows in the soil of Scripture. It grows when we learn to endure. It grows when God speaks into our lives. It grows when we trust the One shaping us.
Hope is not wishful thinking. It is not optimistic personality. It is not crossing fingers and hoping for the best. Hope is formation. God Himself forms it through His Word, His Spirit, and His people.
This means hope is something deeper than emotion. Feelings rise and fall. External circumstances shift constantly. But hope rooted in God is steady. It does not depend on the news cycle, the behavior of others, or the conditions of our own hearts. It depends on the character of the One who promised that His Kingdom is near.
During Advent we remember that the God who came once is coming again. We remember that the Savior who stepped into darkness once will one day banish darkness entirely. We remember that the same Spirit who raised Christ from the dead lives in us, shaping endurance, unity, and joy.
Paul ends this section with one of the most powerful blessings in all of Scripture: “Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you believe so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Overflow. Not trickle. Not drop. Not occasional encouragement. Overflow.
The picture is of a heart so full of the presence and work of God that hope spills out into every relationship, every conversation, every choice, every moment.
This is the fruit of spiritual roadwork. This is the gift of preparation. This is the heart of Advent.
A Road Wide Enough for Others
Advent preparation is deeply personal, but it is never private. Paul makes this clear when he writes, “Therefore welcome one another, just as Christ also welcomed you.”
Christian hope was never meant to be contained. It is meant to be shared. The road God builds in us is designed to make room for others.
This is why Paul speaks about unity. This is why he describes Jews and Gentiles worshiping together. This is why he urges believers to live in harmony and to glorify God with one voice. The hope God cultivates inside us is meant to widen the road of hospitality. It is meant to create space for people who feel unseen, unwelcome, or unsure.
Christian community does not exist to preserve comfort or familiarity. It exists to reveal Christ. It exists to embody hope. It exists so that people of every background, personality, and story can discover the mercy of God.
Advent calls the church to widen the road. To make room. To welcome. To listen. To bear with one another. To cultivate unity not by avoiding difficult conversations but by submitting ourselves to the Lord who brings diverse people into one family.
This means Advent is a perfect time to consider the people God might be inviting us to welcome. It might be the neighbor we have not spoken to often. It might be the coworker who feels isolated. It might be the person in church who always sits alone. It might be the friend who has drifted. It might be the relative who approaches the holidays with dread instead of joy.
Preparing the way for Christ in our community means widening the road so others can meet Him.
Hope That Spills Into Everyday Life
Paul’s final blessing captures a vision that goes far beyond Advent traditions. It describes a life so shaped by God that the ordinary becomes sacred. Hope spills into homes, workplaces, grocery lines, family gatherings, holiday meals, quiet evenings, and busy mornings.
The overflow of hope is not loud. It is steady. It is gracious. It is gentle. It transforms without force. It heals without demanding attention. It witnesses to Christ without needing applause.
This is the kind of hope that the world desperately needs. Not shallow optimism. Not temporary excitement. Deep, steady, Christ-centered hope that can weather brokenness, division, and uncertainty.
Advent invites us to imagine what it would look like for our lives to overflow with hope. What if our daily interactions were shaped by joy and peace rather than stress and urgency? What if our homes were marked by gentleness instead of pressure? What if our churches became known as communities where people find rest instead of judgment? What if the witness of God’s people created curiosity and hunger for Christ?
This is possible. Not because we can manufacture it, but because God forms it. He fills. He sustains. He empowers. Hope is His work in us.
A Season Under Construction
To live through Advent with intention is to embrace the construction zone. It is to trust that God is building something better. It is to look at the areas of our lives that feel unfinished and believe that God is already laying foundations.
We do not always see progress immediately. We do not always understand the delays. But when God works, He works with purpose. Nothing is wasted. No disruption is meaningless. No tearing up of old pavement is unnecessary.
God is building a road where Christ can be clearly seen. He is making a path in the wilderness of our hearts. He is forming a community that welcomes others. He is shaping hope that endures.
This work takes time, but every moment of surrender is worth it.
Questions for Reflection
When the Road Finally Opens
Anyone who has lived near a construction site knows the frustration of waiting. Day after day you drive through dust, bumps, and detours. You begin to wonder if the road will ever be finished. But then one day the barriers are gone. The pavement is smooth. The traffic flows. You realize that every inconvenience was part of a larger plan.
Advent is like stepping onto that newly finished road. We begin the season aware of our need. We see the clutter in our hearts, the rough edges, the hurried habits, the unexamined places. We feel the tension of a world longing for peace. We enter Advent under construction.
But as we prepare the way for Christ, something changes. The wilderness becomes a place of encounter. Scripture refreshes our hope. Repentance clears space for joy. Mercy replaces judgment. Unity grows. Hospitality widens. And slowly, the road inside us begins to straighten.
Christ enters the places we prepared for Him. Hope grows. Peace settles in. Joy takes root. Love spreads. The Holy Spirit forms something new that spills beyond our own lives and into the lives of others.
The road matters. The preparation matters. The hope matters.
The King is coming. And He delights to travel a road made ready for Him.
To understand Advent only as calm candlelight and quiet hymns would be to miss a crucial truth: Advent is a construction zone. It is the season in which God sets up orange cones around our souls. Not because He is frustrated with us, but because He loves us enough to rebuild what has been damaged and straighten what has grown crooked. He loves us enough to clear debris, lay new foundations, and carve out a road that can carry hope into our lives and through our lives to others.
The Scriptures for this season reveal this beautifully. Matthew introduces us to John the Baptist crying out in the wilderness, calling people to prepare the way of the Lord. Paul writes to the Roman church describing a community shaped by hope, unity, endurance, and welcome. Together, these passages offer a vision of spiritual roadwork that happens both privately within the heart and publicly within the community of faith. They speak to a God who does not wait for perfect conditions before entering the story, but who gladly steps into the unfinished places and begins forming something beautiful.
Today we explore that twofold movement. First, the personal call to prepare the way for Christ. Second, the communal shaping into a people of hope. Along the way we will consider what it means to repent with hope rather than shame, how Scripture forms endurance in us, and why Advent never ends with personal spirituality alone but widens into hospitality, acceptance, and mission.
This is a season under construction, and the work God is doing matters.
The Wilderness Is Where Renewal Begins
Matthew tells us that when John appeared, he did not come preaching in a synagogue or palace. He did not step onto a polished platform or into a well-decorated room. He came preaching in the wilderness. His voice rose in the dry, quiet, uncomfortable places where life often feels thin and unpredictable.
This detail matters because the wilderness is a symbol. It represents places that feel unstructured, unprotected, unpolished. Most of us do not choose the wilderness willingly. We stumble into it through disappointment, exhaustion, transition, uncertainty, grief, or simply the long grind of ordinary days. Yet again and again, Scripture shows that the wilderness is where God begins His work. Before Israel entered the Promised Land, God formed them in the desert. Before Jesus began His ministry, the Spirit led Him into the wilderness. Before hope blooms, it often takes root in soil that feels barren.
John’s appearance in the wilderness reminds us that true spiritual renewal rarely begins in the comfortable or predictable places. It begins where our guard is down. It begins when our routines are disrupted. It begins when we discover that what we have been building on our own cannot hold the weight we are carrying.
John’s message was straightforward: “Repent, because the kingdom of heaven has come near.” His words sound strong because they are strong. But beneath them is deep hope, not condemnation. Repentance is not about shaming ourselves. It is about clearing the road for the coming King. It is about reorienting our lives so that we can receive what God wants to give. It is about preparing space for healing, rescue, renewal, and the presence of Christ.
Eugene Peterson captured this beautifully when he wrote, “Repentance is not an emotion. It is a decision. It is deciding that you have been wrong in supposing that you could manage your own life.” It is the moment we stop insisting we can pave our own road and allow God to take the lead.
Repentance is roadwork. It is not self-loathing. It is self-surrender. It is not punishment. It is preparation. It is choosing to believe there is a better way and that God Himself is bringing that better way near.
Advent invites us to look honestly at the wilderness places in our lives. Not with fear, but with expectation. Because those are the places God loves to rebuild.
The Gift of Spiritual Roadwork
Anyone who has driven through a construction zone knows the feeling. Cones, detours, rumbling equipment, uneven pavement. It feels like progress will never come. You pass the same machines day after day and wonder if anything is actually changing. But then one morning you drive that road again and everything is smooth. Everything is clear. Everything was worth it.
Advent is like that. It does not always feel gentle. It does not always feel tidy. It often feels like God is tearing up old pavement, exposing what lies beneath, and slowing us down when we want to move quickly. But all of this is grace. God is not trying to inconvenience us. He is preparing something better.
When John calls people to repentance, he is not pointing out flaws so they will collapse under guilt. He is preparing them for transformation. He is clearing space so they can receive the Messiah. He is announcing that things do not have to stay the same.
This kind of spiritual roadwork can look like many things.
It can look like slowing down in a season usually ruled by hurry.
It can look like taking inventory of our habits, noticing the ones that feed life and the ones that drain it.
It can look like releasing the grudges we have held far too long.
It can look like reordering our priorities so that Christ is not squeezed into the margins.
It can look like letting God smooth the rough edges of impatience, criticism, fear, or self-reliance.
Spiritual preparation is not meant to overwhelm us. It is meant to free us. It reminds us that repentance is always the beginning of renewal.
Fruit That Comes From a Prepared Heart
John’s message did not stop with the call to repent. He added, “Produce fruit consistent with repentance.” In other words, let the inward work of God shape outward change. Let the roadwork show. Let repentance bear fruit.
Fruit does not appear overnight. It grows from something. It grows through seasons of pruning, nourishment, and time. It grows as roots deepen. And the same is true for spiritual fruit.
In Advent, the fruit of repentance is visible in the ways we practice patience in a season that tries to rush us. It is visible in our generosity in a culture that elevates consumption. It is visible in our mercy when judgment feels easier. It is visible in our hope when the world feels dark.
Fruit does not demand perfection. It does not require flawless living. It requires openness to God’s forming work. Repentance clears the road. Fruit reveals what has been planted.
This is why Advent cannot simply be sentimental. It is transformational. It asks us to examine what is growing in our lives. It invites us to consider whether the patterns we cultivate reflect the Kingdom of God or the pressures of the surrounding world.
Fruit grows where soil has been cleared and prepared. Advent invites us to let Christ tend the soil of our hearts.
Hope That Is Formed, Not Fabricated
After hearing John’s call to prepare the way, we turn to Romans 15. Paul is writing to a divided church. Jewish and Gentile Christians struggled over identity, tradition, and unity. Into this division Paul speaks words of encouragement, endurance, and overflow.
He describes hope not as a fleeting feeling but as something God builds in His people. He writes, “For whatever was written in the past was written for our instruction, so that we may have hope through endurance and through the encouragement from the Scriptures.”
According to Paul, hope grows in the soil of Scripture. It grows when we learn to endure. It grows when God speaks into our lives. It grows when we trust the One shaping us.
Hope is not wishful thinking. It is not optimistic personality. It is not crossing fingers and hoping for the best. Hope is formation. God Himself forms it through His Word, His Spirit, and His people.
This means hope is something deeper than emotion. Feelings rise and fall. External circumstances shift constantly. But hope rooted in God is steady. It does not depend on the news cycle, the behavior of others, or the conditions of our own hearts. It depends on the character of the One who promised that His Kingdom is near.
During Advent we remember that the God who came once is coming again. We remember that the Savior who stepped into darkness once will one day banish darkness entirely. We remember that the same Spirit who raised Christ from the dead lives in us, shaping endurance, unity, and joy.
Paul ends this section with one of the most powerful blessings in all of Scripture: “Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you believe so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Overflow. Not trickle. Not drop. Not occasional encouragement. Overflow.
The picture is of a heart so full of the presence and work of God that hope spills out into every relationship, every conversation, every choice, every moment.
This is the fruit of spiritual roadwork. This is the gift of preparation. This is the heart of Advent.
A Road Wide Enough for Others
Advent preparation is deeply personal, but it is never private. Paul makes this clear when he writes, “Therefore welcome one another, just as Christ also welcomed you.”
Christian hope was never meant to be contained. It is meant to be shared. The road God builds in us is designed to make room for others.
This is why Paul speaks about unity. This is why he describes Jews and Gentiles worshiping together. This is why he urges believers to live in harmony and to glorify God with one voice. The hope God cultivates inside us is meant to widen the road of hospitality. It is meant to create space for people who feel unseen, unwelcome, or unsure.
Christian community does not exist to preserve comfort or familiarity. It exists to reveal Christ. It exists to embody hope. It exists so that people of every background, personality, and story can discover the mercy of God.
Advent calls the church to widen the road. To make room. To welcome. To listen. To bear with one another. To cultivate unity not by avoiding difficult conversations but by submitting ourselves to the Lord who brings diverse people into one family.
This means Advent is a perfect time to consider the people God might be inviting us to welcome. It might be the neighbor we have not spoken to often. It might be the coworker who feels isolated. It might be the person in church who always sits alone. It might be the friend who has drifted. It might be the relative who approaches the holidays with dread instead of joy.
Preparing the way for Christ in our community means widening the road so others can meet Him.
Hope That Spills Into Everyday Life
Paul’s final blessing captures a vision that goes far beyond Advent traditions. It describes a life so shaped by God that the ordinary becomes sacred. Hope spills into homes, workplaces, grocery lines, family gatherings, holiday meals, quiet evenings, and busy mornings.
The overflow of hope is not loud. It is steady. It is gracious. It is gentle. It transforms without force. It heals without demanding attention. It witnesses to Christ without needing applause.
This is the kind of hope that the world desperately needs. Not shallow optimism. Not temporary excitement. Deep, steady, Christ-centered hope that can weather brokenness, division, and uncertainty.
Advent invites us to imagine what it would look like for our lives to overflow with hope. What if our daily interactions were shaped by joy and peace rather than stress and urgency? What if our homes were marked by gentleness instead of pressure? What if our churches became known as communities where people find rest instead of judgment? What if the witness of God’s people created curiosity and hunger for Christ?
This is possible. Not because we can manufacture it, but because God forms it. He fills. He sustains. He empowers. Hope is His work in us.
A Season Under Construction
To live through Advent with intention is to embrace the construction zone. It is to trust that God is building something better. It is to look at the areas of our lives that feel unfinished and believe that God is already laying foundations.
We do not always see progress immediately. We do not always understand the delays. But when God works, He works with purpose. Nothing is wasted. No disruption is meaningless. No tearing up of old pavement is unnecessary.
God is building a road where Christ can be clearly seen. He is making a path in the wilderness of our hearts. He is forming a community that welcomes others. He is shaping hope that endures.
This work takes time, but every moment of surrender is worth it.
Questions for Reflection
- Where might God be inviting you to do spiritual roadwork this Advent? Consider areas of life that feel hurried, resistant, distracted, or spiritually dry. What small step of repentance or reorientation might open space for renewal?
- What practices help cultivate hope in your life, and what tends to diminish it? Think about habits, rhythms, and relationships that shape your heart. How might Scripture, prayer, or intentional community strengthen hope this season?
- How might God be inviting you to widen the road for someone else? Who in your life needs welcome, acceptance, or support? What might it look like to prepare space for others to encounter the hope of Christ?
When the Road Finally Opens
Anyone who has lived near a construction site knows the frustration of waiting. Day after day you drive through dust, bumps, and detours. You begin to wonder if the road will ever be finished. But then one day the barriers are gone. The pavement is smooth. The traffic flows. You realize that every inconvenience was part of a larger plan.
Advent is like stepping onto that newly finished road. We begin the season aware of our need. We see the clutter in our hearts, the rough edges, the hurried habits, the unexamined places. We feel the tension of a world longing for peace. We enter Advent under construction.
But as we prepare the way for Christ, something changes. The wilderness becomes a place of encounter. Scripture refreshes our hope. Repentance clears space for joy. Mercy replaces judgment. Unity grows. Hospitality widens. And slowly, the road inside us begins to straighten.
Christ enters the places we prepared for Him. Hope grows. Peace settles in. Joy takes root. Love spreads. The Holy Spirit forms something new that spills beyond our own lives and into the lives of others.
The road matters. The preparation matters. The hope matters.
The King is coming. And He delights to travel a road made ready for Him.
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