If you are anything like me, you’re moving a million miles an hour trying to prepare for Christmas—buying gifts, wrapping them, grocery shopping, baking, and doing everything you can to make the season feel magical for the people you love. It’s full-on Martha mode. Productive. Well-intentioned. Exhausting.

But Scripture reminds us that Mary chose the better thing—and that better thing is still being offered to us.

Advent gently invites us to slow down and choose it too.

To sit with Jesus.
To pause long enough to remember the holy anticipation of the Savior of the world.

Before Jesus came, the world was tired. Sin had tangled everything up, and no matter how hard people tried, they couldn’t live up to God’s perfect law. Scripture says the law was good, but it also showed how broken we really were (Romans 7:12).

God had a plan for it all.

For hundreds of years, God had been promising that a Savior was coming. A child born of a virgin (Isaiah 7:14). A ruler from Bethlehem (Micah 5:2). A Son who would bring light into darkness (Isaiah 9:2). And then, at just the right moment, God kept every promise. Jesus came quietly, humbly, wrapped in flesh, laid in a manger.

Hope showed up in a world that felt hopeless.
Peace entered a world full of chaos and pain.
Joy broke into fear and uncertainty.
Love became a person you could see, touch, and know.

The angels told the shepherds, “I bring you good news of great joy” (Luke 2:10). Not just news for that night—but for every night after.

And here’s the part we sometimes miss: those gifts weren’t just for people back then. They’re still available now.

Joy doesn’t mean life is easy. It means Jesus is present.
Peace doesn’t mean nothing is wrong. It means God is near.
Hope doesn’t mean we have all the answers. It means the story isn’t over.
Love doesn’t mean we earned it. It means He gave it freely.

Receiving those gifts today can look surprisingly simple. Sitting quietly with Scripture instead of scrolling. Talking to Jesus honestly instead of perfectly. Letting worship fill the room even when your heart feels heavy. Advent reminds us that His presence is still where everything changes.

But Advent also reminds us of something else.

We are still waiting.

Not the same way the world waited before Jesus came—but still waiting all the same. Jesus fulfilled the law. He paid the price for sin. He sent the Holy Spirit to live inside us. And then He made a promise: He is coming back.

The Bible describes this waiting using the picture of a bride and groom, and for Jesus’ original audience, that imagery meant everything.

In Jewish culture, a wedding didn’t happen all at once. First came betrothal. This was more than engagement—it was a binding promise. The groom would offer the bride a cup of wine to seal the covenant. When Jesus shared the cup at the Last Supper and said, “This is the new covenant in my blood” (Luke 22:20), His disciples would have understood exactly what He meant.

Then the groom paid the bride price. Not money—sacrifice. Jesus paid ours with His life (1 Peter 1:18–19).

After that, the groom would leave to prepare a place for his bride, often adding a room to his father’s house. Sound familiar? Jesus said, “I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2).

And here’s the part that matters most: the bride didn’t know when her groom would return. Only the father decided the timing. So the bride stayed ready. Lamps filled. Life lived expectantly.

That’s where we are now.

We live in the in-between. Jesus has already come, and He is coming again. Advent reminds us that waiting doesn’t mean doing nothing—it means living ready. Loving well. Staying awake spiritually. Letting our lives reflect the One we’re waiting for.

We don’t wait in fear.
We wait in hope.
We don’t wait alone.
We wait as the beloved Bride.

And one day, the waiting will end.

Until then, Advent invites us to remember what Christmas is really about—not the noise, the rush, or the perfection—but the God who came close, stayed faithful, and promised to return.

So we wait.
With lamps lit.
With hearts open.
With eyes lifted.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Ardently His,

Jenifer

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