Luke 1:47 GW: “My spirit finds its joy in God, my Savior.”
This third week of Advent is Joy, symbolized by a rose-colored candle. It seems intentionally out of place, breaking up the deep purples of waiting and quietly challenging the long ache leading to Christmas.
The origins of the Advent wreath and candles go back to 1839, when Lutheran pastor Johann Hinrich Wichern led a mission school full of children who asked the same question every day: Is it Christmas yet?
Weary of answering “not yet,” Wichern repurposed an old cartwheel, placing twenty-four small red candles around its rim and four large white ones at its center. One candle was lit each day, giving the children a way to see time passing and hope drawing nearer.
Like those children, we also live through seasons of anticipation, hoping the long-promised thing will finally arrive and wishing the wait were shorter. This is what makes joy so unexpected during Advent. Joy doesn’t wait for circumstances to improve; it sneaks into the middle of longing, arriving before anything is resolved.
The verse from Luke is part of Mary’s Magnificat. Newly pregnant, she rejoices not in Christ’s birth, but in the promise of what is to come. Her situation is precarious and uncertain, yet she finds joy in being part of God’s unfolding plan.
This remains true for us. Amid unfinished chores, cluttered homes, cranky toddlers, exhaustion, and grief, joy can still emerge. The mess doesn’t disappear when joy arrives. The laundry stays. The toys remain scattered. The waiting continues.
Joy is like the sudden kick felt beneath a hand gently resting on a pregnant belly; it startles us awake. It is small, tangible, and unmistakably real. It’s a sign that something is already alive and moving, even while we are still waiting.
Advent invites us not to manufacture joy, but to notice it, to look for signs of life stirring beneath the surface, even when nothing looks ready yet.
Leave a Reply