We imagine light as instant, a switch flipped, a candle lit: but Advent reminds us that light waits. Dawn’s arrival comes not with a hurried appearance, it lingers on the horizon, yawning across the sky. So, too, God’s promises unfold in rhythm, not haste.
Advent is the season where we learn that waiting is not wasted, but the very shape of hope.
Welcome to Week #3 of the Advent Series: Light in Unexpected Places! Be sure to check out the series intro post for the series flow, which will alternate between here and Substack. If you missed the last post, “Midnight as the Hour of Hope” on Substack, you can read it HERE.
Watching the winter sunrise weep across the farm hills filled my heart with wonder, but it also reminded me light has its own rhythm. The full joy of the sunrise emerged through the waiting, as the ribbons of color unfurled in lazy undulations.
As I sipped my coffee, eyes caressing the glory of the sunrise, I marveled at the Advent lesson before me. The third Sunday of Advent traditionally focuses on Joy. How much of our joy comes through anticipation? In the learning to savor the beauty of a slow arrival, our joy increases.
The two coveted sights for both professional and amateur photographers alike are sunrises and sunsets. And for good reason. The stunning and vivid colors of both provide almost surreal experiences for the observer.
No two sunrises or sunsets are the same, and in these mysteries, light reveals its slow rhythms faithfully each day.
In the faithful, unhurried pace of light we see the parallel with the patient fulfillment of God’s promises.
“For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay.”
Advent, the season of waiting for the coming Light, beckons us into a rhythm of anticipation, but it also bids us embrace the slow rhythm of God’s promises.
I wonder, in the beginning of creation, when God spoke light into being, (Genesis 1:3-5) before “Let there be light”, was there a dawning moment—a great cosmic sunrise? I imagine a slow unfurling of dazzling ribbons of light, cascading across the entire sky in joyful abandon.
But even before the appearance of the first ribbon of light, a holy hush of waiting in the dark hovered.
As the Holy Spirit brooded over the darkness of the waters, (Genesis 1:1) light waited—waited for the perfectly timed word of God. A slow unfolding from a place of sacred silence to the divine revelation of light.
If we rush past the Spirit’s brooding over the waters to the glorious moment of light spoken into existence by the God of the Universe, we miss God’s drawing near, and His work in the dark, chaotic void. Perhaps the slow rhythms of light pondered through Advent days exhort us to sit in the darkness of our own pain, chaos, and emptiness in preparation for the coming of the true Light.
In a season of busyness, distraction, and expectations, Advent bids us slow down, reflect, and embrace the quiet wait.
This Advent, though I know the end of the story: the wait culminates in the arrival of the Light of the world—which casts out all darkness, God is calling me to sit with my own darkness, grief, unanswered prayers, disappointments, losses, and pain.
This entreaty is one of holding my pain in God’s presence, not rushing to the comfort of the light, or avoiding the pain through Christmas noise. When we make room for God in the dark places of our pain, we open ourselves to His deeper healing light.
Light waits on the edge of darkness in the Advent story allowing us to perceive the story by slowing down long enough to receive it.
Recognizing light’s lesson in waiting for God’s perfectly timed word of revelation, compels us to embrace the slow rhythms of the fulfillment of God’s promises. God never rushes; His promises unfold slowly. Israel waited 400 years in Egypt, 40 years in the wilderness, and 70 years in exile for God’s deliverance. They waited through 400 years of silence before Christ’s birth, another 30 years before He began His public ministry, and 3 days before He rose from the grave.
While the bible contains stories of God’s immediate intervention, more often we see His promises emerge over long periods of time. Advent guides us in remembering Christ’s birth, the true Light coming into the world, but even with Christ’s birth light had not fully come and will not fully come until His Second coming to set up His kingdom.
“The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world.”
“And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb.”
This Advent as you commemorate the coming of the Light of the world, may you remember, if you want to see the Sonrise, you have to look long and hard into the dark.
“Patient Father, You do not rush the dawn but let it unfold in its time. Teach us to wait with the light, to trust Your promises as they ripen slowly, and to find joy in the rhythm of Your coming. Amen.”
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