December is a season of waiting. We wait in traffic, we wait in checkout lines, we wait for packages to arrive, and we wait for the calendar to finally turn to Christmas.

Rt Rev Dr. Mark Paris-Haines

Sermon for December 19, 2025

December is a season of waiting. We wait in traffic, we wait in checkout lines, we wait for packages to arrive, and we wait for the calendar to finally turn to Christmas. Yet Advent reminds us that waiting is not empty time. It is holy time. It is time filled with promise, longing, and hope.

The world around us is tired. Many come into this season carrying burdens—grief, uncertainty, fear about the future, and weariness from years that seem heavier than expected. Into that weariness, Advent speaks a gentle but powerful word: “Comfort, comfort my people.” God meets us not after the waiting is over, but right in the middle of it.

Isaiah does not begin by pretending everything is fine. He speaks to a people in exile, a people who have lost home, security, and identity. God’s comfort is not shallow reassurance; it is a promise spoken into real suffering.

Advent comfort works the same way. God does not rush us past our pain or shame us for our questions. Instead, God draws near and says, “I see you. I have not forgotten you.” True comfort is the assurance of presence, not the absence of struggle.

Isaiah speaks of a highway being prepared in the wilderness. Notice where God chooses to work—not in palaces or temples, but in desolate places. Advent reminds us that God specializes in meeting us where life feels most barren.

The call to “prepare the way” is not about perfection. It is about making room. Making room in our schedules, our hearts, and our expectations for a God who comes in unexpected ways. Sometimes the most faithful preparation is simply honesty before God.

James encourages believers to be patient, like farmers waiting for precious crops. Farmers cannot force growth; they can only trust the process and tend the soil. Faith, especially in seasons of waiting, is not passive it is active trust.

Patience does not mean pretending everything is okay. It means choosing hope even when the harvest is not yet visible. It means believing that God is at work beneath the surface, even when we cannot yet see the fruit.

In the Gospel, John the Baptist sends a question to Jesus: “Are you the one who is to come, or should we wait for another?” This is not a question from doubt alone—it is a question from disappointment and confusion.

Jesus does not rebuke John. Instead, He points to signs of restoration: the blind see, the lame walk, the poor hear good news. In other words, “Look at where life is being restored—that is where I am.”

Advent faith allows space for honest questions. God is not threatened by our doubts. In fact, sometimes our questions become doorways to deeper trust.

The good news of Advent is not that we are climbing our way up to God, but that God is coming toward us. Emmanuel—God with us—is not an idea; it is a promise fulfilled in Jesus.

Hope, in Advent, is not wishful thinking. It is confidence rooted in God’s character. The same God who spoke comfort to exiles, who strengthened patient believers, and who answered a questioning prophet is the God who walks with us now.

As we wait this Advent season, may we remember that waiting is not wasted time. God is shaping our hearts, deepening our faith, and preparing us for joy that is deeper than circumstances.

May we hear again the words spoken long ago: “Prepare the way of the Lord.” Not by striving harder, but by opening our lives to the One who comes gently, faithfully, and full of grace.

Prayer: God of hope, meet us in our waiting. Speak comfort to our weary hearts, strengthen us in patience, and help us prepare room for Your presence. Come, Lord Jesus. Amen.