Author: interioraltar

Rector, serving Holy Trinity Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, NC in the Diocese of East Carolina.

Advent 2025 Reflection – Abundantly

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” – John 10:10

The third week of Advent arrives with a surprising invitation: rejoice. In a season often filled with waiting, uncertainty, and quiet longing, the Church lights the rose-colored candle and reminds us that joy is not something we must postpone. It is already breaking in — gently, abundantly.

When we hear the word abundantly, many of us first think of “more” — more money, more time, more success, more comfort. But the abundance Christ promises is different. It is not measured by excess, but by fullness. It is not found in what we gather, but in who we become.

In a world shaped by scarcity thinking — not enough time, not enough love, not enough hope — Jesus offers another way of seeing. He comes not to give us a life that is merely busy or full, but a life that is overflowing with meaning, connection, reconciliation, and grace. His abundance is one that multiplies when it is given away.

This Advent, many of us carry heavy hearts — conflict in relationships, exhaustion in our work, division in our communities, even within our churches. Yet abundance does not ignore brokenness; it enters right into it. God chose to come into the world through the vulnerability of a child, into a family marked by uncertainty, into a society under oppression. And it is in those very places that abundance took root.

To live abundantly this Advent is not to escape the darkness, but to recognize that God is shining within it.

We live abundantly when:

  • We choose forgiveness over bitterness
  • We choose generosity over fear
  • We choose presence over distraction
  • We choose hope over despair

These choices may seem small, but they carry divine weight.

The third week of Advent asks us:
Where have you been living in scarcity that God is calling you to abundance?
Where have you closed your hands in fear when God is inviting you to open them in trust?

The coming of Christ means that love is not limited, grace is not rationed, and joy is not a luxury. In Him, there is always more — more mercy, more restoration, more life.

So today we rejoice — not because everything is perfect, but because Emmanuel, God-with-us, is already among us — abundantly.

Advent 2025 Reflection: The Quiet Honor of Waiting

Advent 3, often marked by joy, invites us to pause in the middle of longing and lift our heads. The candle of joy burns brighter each week, but today it stands beside something quieter and more countercultural: honor.

In a world that honors noise, speed, and self-display, Advent teaches us a different way. It honors the unseen work of God — the slow forming of promises in hidden places. Honor in Advent is not about titles or recognition. It is about reverence: reverence for God’s timing, for one another’s dignity, and for the fragile hope growing in the dark.

Mary honored God not only with her words, but with her “Yes.” Joseph honored God through obedience that cost him his reputation. John the Baptist honored Christ by stepping back and pointing away from himself. None of them were honored by their culture. They were misunderstood, questioned, even mocked. Yet heaven still remembers their names.

True honor is not claimed; it is given. And it is given most fully to God, who chooses humility as His entrance into the world.

Advent asks us: Who and what do we honor?
Do we honor position more than people? Comfort more than calling? Volume more than truth? The third candle burns as a quiet challenge to realign our hearts.

Honoring God this season may look like reconciliation instead of revenge. It may look like listening instead of winning. It may mean protecting someone else’s name even when you could elevate your own.

And here is the paradox of Advent honor: when we humble ourselves, joy finds us. When we lift Christ high, our hearts are lifted too.

This is the joy of the third candle — not laughter alone, but the deep, settled joy of knowing that God is near, and that it is an honor to make room for him.

So today, as the pink candle flickers, we are invited to examine our hearts:
Who or what do we honor most?
Do our lives reflect the worth of Christ?
Do our words and actions honor the people around us?

Advent 2025 Reflection: Unquenchable

John the Baptizer stands in Advent like a bare tree against a winter sky — stark, unadorned, and impossible to ignore. He speaks of repentance, of turning, of a winnowing fork in strong hands and a fire that does not go out. His words are not exactly comforting. They crackle. But hidden within his fierceness is a promise: something unquenchable is coming.

We often assume that unquenchable fire must be destructive — the kind that consumes forests, homes, memories. But Scripture offers another image of unquenchable flame: the burning bush that is not consumed, the pillar of fire that guides Israel’s steps in the darkness, the tongues of fire that rest on fearful disciples and send them courageously into the world. God’s unquenchable fire is not about annihilation; it is about presence. It is a holy, persistent energy that refuses to be snuffed out by fear, exhaustion, violence, or despair.

In 2025, it is not hard to feel like the world is running out of oxygen for hope. We are weary from conflict, division, injustice, environmental anxiety, and the daily onslaught of information that tells us everything is broken beyond repair. Many carry quiet griefs: lost relationships, fractured communities, unanswered prayers. The temptation in such a world is to grow cold — to protect our hearts by numbing them, to reduce our dreams, to settle for survival instead of hope.

And yet, Advent whispers that within you, and within the world, something cannot be extinguished.

The unquenchable presence of God is not loud. It does not always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like the stubborn decision to love when bitterness would be easier. Sometimes it looks like forgiving one more time, praying one more prayer, believing one more time that light will win. Sometimes it is as small as a candle flickering in a quiet room — but even a flame that small defies a great darkness.

John points ahead to One who will come not merely with words, but with Spirit and fire. Jesus will embody this unquenchable life. Systems try to silence him. Empires execute him. Even his friends doubt and hide. Yet love proves stronger than the grave. Resurrection itself is the declaration that the fire of God cannot be put out.

This is where the second week of Advent meets our lives: what, in you, is unquenchable?

Is it the longing for justice? The instinct for compassion? The ache for reconciliation? The hope that the world can still become kinder, truer, more whole? These are not human fantasies. They are sparks of the divine fire placed in your soul.

To prepare for Christ this season is not only to wait; it is to tend that flame. Protect it. Feed it with prayer, Scripture, worship, and acts of mercy. Refuse to let cynicism douse it. When you feel weak, remember that the unquenchable does not depend on your strength. It is God’s gift within you.

And so, in this second week of Advent, may you feel the warmth of a holy fire that cannot be put out. May it burn away fear, refine what is false, and light the path before you. Christ is coming. And nothing can extinguish the hope he brings.

Advent 2025 Reflection: “Brood: What Are We Becoming?”

When John the Baptist looks at the crowds and the religious leaders and calls them a “brood of vipers,” it feels jarring, even cruel. During Advent — a season full of candles, carols, and quiet hope — these sharp words cut through the softness. But that is exactly why they matter.

A brood is what something produces. It is the next generation. What is being formed. What is multiplying.

John is not only calling out sin — he is calling out identity and direction.
What kind of people are you becoming?
What kind of future are you reproducing?

In 2025, this question feels uncomfortably relevant.

We live in a world that is constantly birthing things: opinions, content, outrage, movements, trends, and divisions. Every shared post and private decision is a kind of spiritual reproduction. We are all forming a brood — not only in our families, but in our communities, churches, and online spaces.

John’s message is not simply: “You are bad.”
It is: “Change what you are producing.”

He continues by saying: “Produce fruit in keeping with repentance.”

In other words:
If Christ is truly coming, your life must begin to look different.

Advent is not just about waiting for Jesus to show up again in glory.
It is about preparing what He will find when He does.

Are we forming:

  • A brood of fear or a brood of faith?
  • A brood of bitterness or a brood of mercy?
  • A brood of self-preservation or a brood of courage, justice, and love?

The good news is this:
John’s harsh words are actually an invitation, not a condemnation. A brood can change. New life can begin. Different fruit can grow.

That is the hope of Advent.

Christ comes not only to forgive what we have been, but to transform what we are becoming.

So in this second week of Advent, the question is simple and unsettling:

What kind of brood is my life creating — and what kind of people will come because Christ has entered it?

Let us prepare the way — not only in the world, but in ourselves.

Advent 2025 Reflection: Written

In a world where words are generated in seconds, edited endlessly, and discarded just as quickly, the word written stands apart. In 2025, we are surrounded by more information than any generation before us — headlines that refresh by the minute, opinions that clash, and voices amplified by algorithms. Yet in the middle of all this noise, Advent calls us back to a quieter, older voice: the written Word of God.

Scripture has outlived empires, technologies, and trends. While platforms rise and fall, the written word of the Lord endures. In this second week of Advent, we are reminded that God chose to anchor his promises not in fleeting updates, but in written testimony — inscribed through prophets, preserved through persecution, and carried into our modern hands with purpose.

The word written slows us down. It interrupts our scrolling. It resists our demand for instant answers. Instead, it invites us into holy waiting — the same waiting practiced by those who lived centuries before Christ’s arrival. They clung to written promises of peace, a Messiah, and a restored world. We, too, are still waiting: for healing in our communities, justice in our systems, and reconciliation in our relationships.

Perhaps in 2025, our greatest spiritual discipline is not learning more but learning again to listen. The written word teaches us how to be still. It reminds us that peace is not manufactured by technology or policy but spoken into being by God himself. The same word that shaped creation now seeks to reshape us.

This Advent, we are invited to let Scripture become our true “feed” — shaping what we believe, how we love, and who we become. As we open its pages (or screens), we are drawn into a story that is bigger than our anxiety and deeper than our divisions. We discover that God is still speaking, still moving, still preparing the world for his presence.

As the second candle burns, may its light reflect the quiet strength of the Word written — steady, unchanging, and alive. And may that word prepare not only the world, but our hearts, for the coming of Christ, the Living Word.

Advent 2025 Reflection: Encouragement

The second candle of Advent is the candle of Peace. Yet peace can often feel out of reach in a world filled with conflict, noise, and endless uncertainty. Many of us carry silent struggles, strained relationships, and anxious hearts. It is in the middle of this unrest that God offers a gentle, powerful gift: encouragement.

True encouragement is more than a comforting phrase. It is the quiet assurance that God is near, that we have not been abandoned, and that this moment is not the end of the story. When the angels spoke to the shepherds, their first words were not judgment, but encouragement: “Do not be afraid.” Those simple words were the beginning of peace.

God’s encouragement does not erase the chaos around us, but it stabilizes the chaos within us. It calms what the world stirs up. It strengthens us to keep walking, to keep believing, to keep hoping. That is the peace of Advent — not the absence of trouble, but the presence of Christ.

In the story of John the Baptist, we see a different kind of encouragement: a call to prepare the way of the Lord. Encouragement sometimes comes as a loving challenge — an invitation to straighten what has become crooked and to open our hearts once again to God’s restoring peace.

This second week of Advent, pause to notice where you most need encouragement. Is it in your faith, your relationships, your past, or your future? Bring that place honestly before God. Let his Word remind you that he is still moving, still healing, still restoring what is broken.

And as you receive peace, become a bearer of it. A simple message. A listening ear. A forgiving heart. These small acts of encouragement are how God’s peace enters the world — through you.

Advent 2025 Reflection: Equity

In Advent, we anticipate the coming of Christ—the light that breaks into our world, the justice that transforms it, and the love that redeems it. This year, one word invites our attention: Equity.

Equity is more than equality. While equality asks that we treat everyone the same, equity calls us to recognize differences, to understand context, and to remove barriers so that all can thrive actively. In the Gospel, we see Christ repeatedly doing the work of equity: feeding the hungry, welcoming the outcast, touching the untouchable. The Christ does not give the same gift to everyone; he meets each person where they are, responding to their unique need.

Advent is a season of preparation. But what does it mean to prepare our hearts for the Christ who comes in justice and mercy? It is a time to examine the inequities in our own lives and communities—those places where privilege, neglect, or bias create distance between us and others. It is a time to repent of indifference and to work toward systems, relationships, and hearts that reflect God’s vision of justice.

This Advent, may we reflect on questions like:

  • How can I share not just what I have, but what others truly need?
  • Where do I see inequity in my community, and how can I help remove it?
  • How can my faith inspire action that brings fairness and dignity to all?

As we light each candle on the Advent wreath, let us remember that Christ comes not only to save, but to restore balance and bring justice. Equity is a pathway to that restoration—it asks us to see, to act, and to love in ways that honor the inherent worth of every human being.

May this Advent be a season where our eyes are opened, our hearts are stirred, and our hands are ready to bring God’s equitable love into the world.

Advent 2025 Reflection: Counsel

As we continue to travel through the season of Advent, we are invited to pause and prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ. This year, reflecting on the word “Counsel” draws our attention to the gift of guidance, wisdom, and discernment—both the guidance we receive from God and the guidance we are called to offer one another.

The prophet Isaiah, speaking of the coming Messiah, says: “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor” (Isaiah 9:6). Christ is not only a Savior but also our Counselor, leading us with infinite wisdom and compassion. He comes to teach us how to live justly, love deeply, and act rightly, even when the path is unclear.

In our world, we are surrounded by voices offering advice, instruction, and opinion. Advent calls us to discern which counsel to heed. The counsel of God often comes quietly, through Scripture, prayer, and the gentle nudges of the Holy Spirit. It challenges us to look beyond convenience, to see the needs of others, and to act in ways that reflect God’s love and justice.

As we wait for Christmas, let us also remember our call to give counsel. Sometimes, the greatest gift we can offer another person is our presence, our listening ear, or our thoughtful guidance rooted in love. Advent reminds us that counsel is not just about advice—it is about accompaniment, care, and pointing others toward hope.

This season, may we open our hearts to the Wonderful Counselor, allowing Christ’s wisdom to shape our decisions, heal our fears, and guide us into deeper peace. And may we also become instruments of counsel, offering insight, encouragement, and hope to those around us, reflecting the light of Christ in a world that deeply needs it.

Prayer:
Lord, you are the Wonderful Counselor. Teach us to listen to your guidance, to trust your wisdom, and to share it generously with others. Help us discern truth from distraction, hope from despair, and love from fear. Prepare our hearts this Advent to receive you and to be your instruments of counsel in the world.

Advent 2025 Reflection — Heed

“Pay attention. Turn your ear. Let your heart be moved.”
That is the quiet command of the word heed.

Advent is a season of waiting, but it is not a silent season. It is filled with voices — prophets crying out in the wilderness, angels announcing impossible news, and the soft, persistent whisper of God calling the world back to himself. The question of Advent is not whether God is speaking, but whether we will heed the voice.

To heed is more than to hear. Hearing can be accidental. Heeding is intentional. It means allowing what we hear to shape what we do.

Mary heeded the angel’s word and said, “Let it be.”
Joseph heeded a dream and chose mercy instead of fear.
The shepherds heeded the heavenly song and left their fields.
The magi heeded a star and changed their route home.

None of them had a complete understanding, yet all of them had willing hearts.

In our world, noise is constant. Opinions, urgency, conflict, and distraction surround us. It is easy to hear God faintly and move on unchanged. But Advent calls us to slow down — to listen deeply enough that we are changed by what we’ve heard.

To heed is to pause before reacting.
To heed is to obey before we fully understand.
To heed is to trust that God’s voice is worth following even when it disrupts our plans.

Advent invites us to practice holy attention — to notice where God is nudging, convicting, inviting, comforting. It asks us to be people who do not just admire the light but move toward it.

This season, may we hear the call of hope.
May we heed the invitation of peace.
May we follow the whisper of love made flesh.

Because the miracle of Christmas was never just that God came close, but that people were listening enough to receive him.

Advent 2025 Reflection — “Day”

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” — Isaiah 9:2

Advent is a season of waiting, but it is not waiting in darkness forever. It is the slow, sacred movement toward daybreak — toward a holy Day that changes everything.

The word “day” reminds us that God works in time. Not all at once. Not rushed. Not chaotic. The night may feel long, uncertain, heavy. Yet Scripture promises that the day is already on its way.

A day begins quietly. No fanfare. No applause. Light simply grows. Shadows slowly retreat. Shapes become clearer. What was hidden becomes visible.

So it is with Christ.

Advent teaches us that God does not force the dawn; He ushers it in. He does not shout light into the world; He steps into it as Light.

Each Advent candle marks a day closer. Not because we are chasing Christmas, but because we are learning to trust the slow arrival of hope. The world may feel wrapped in long nights — fear, injustice, loneliness — but God’s promise stands:
The day is coming.

And not just any day.

The Day of the Lord.
The Day of salvation.
The Day where darkness cannot win.

Advent invites us to live like people of that coming Day:

  • To forgive like light is near.
  • To love like shadows are fading.
  • To wait — not in despair — but in expectation.

Because the truth is this:
night never has the final word.
The final word is Day.