WHAT IS WRONG WITH ADVENT? NOT A THING IN THE WORLD
Advent did not begin as a command, a test of orthodoxy, or a spiritual hurdle to clear. It began as a longing.
In the early centuries of Christianity, believers set aside time before Christmas to remember two great truths held together in reverent tension: Christ has come, and Christ will come again. Like Israel watching for the dawn, the Church learned to wait—not with anxiety, but with hope. Advent was shaped as a season of preparation, reflection, and expectation; not unlike Lent in its sobriety, yet warmer with promise, lit by candles instead of shadows.
There is nothing unbiblical about remembering the incarnation with intention. The Bible itself is full of holy remembrance—stones set by rivers, feasts appointed by God, psalms that call us to remember the works of the Lord (Psalm 77:11). To pause and rehearse the wonder that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14) is not ritualism; it is gratitude with a calendar. The problem is never the practice—it is the heart. Advent, like any good gift, can be received freely or mishandled foolishly.
The danger comes only when a help becomes a measure, when a tradition becomes a test, when what is meant to point us to Christ begins to replace Him. The gospel is clear: no day is holier than another by necessity, and no believer is made righteous by observing seasons or neglecting them (Romans 14:5-6; Colossians 2:16-17).
Advent is not law; it is liberty. It is not required; it is offered. And where there is no law, there is no condemnation—only wisdom, if we choose to use it well.
At its best, Advent gently tutors the soul. It slows us down in a hurried world, teaches us to wait in a culture of immediacy, and reminds us that salvation entered history quietly—through a womb, a cradle, a manger.
The candles do not save us; Christ does. The calendar does not sanctify us; the Spirit does. Advent simply whispers what the gospel has always said aloud: Light has come into the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it (John 1:5).
So what is wrong with Advent? Nothing at all—unless we idolize it, weaponize it, or bind consciences where God has left them free. Used humbly, it serves love. Used rigidly, it forgets grace. The Church is never holier for keeping it, nor less faithful for passing it by. Christ is our righteousness in every season.
And that is what makes Advent beautiful: it points beyond itself—to Emmanuel, God with us—yesterday, today, and forever.
Lord Jesus, teach us to receive good gifts without turning them into burdens. Whether we mark the days or let them pass, fix our hearts on You alone. Help us to wait with hope, worship with freedom, and live every season in the light of Your coming. Amen.
BDD
