Advent Devotions

Mary’s Song - Joy breaks out in praise, not circumstance

Mary had every reason to be overwhelmed—unexpected pregnancy, social stigma, uncertainty about the future. But when she arrives at Elizabeth’s home, something profound happens. Instead of sorrow or anxiety, joy erupts—first in Elizabeth's spirited blessing, and then in Mary’s song of praise.

This is not joy based on comfort, clarity, or control. This is joy rooted in God’s faithfulness.

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour...”
(Luke 1:46–47)

Mary’s song is a revolutionary anthem. It declares that God lifts up the humble, fills the hungry, and keeps promises. Her joy is not naïve—it’s prophetic. It sees beyond her current situation to the Kingdom that is coming, already stirring within her.

Joy, here, is not the absence of hardship. It is the presence of hope.

A chaplain once visited a care home during Advent and met an elderly woman confined to her bed, her sight failing and her family far away. He expected sorrow—but instead, she beamed with joy. When asked how she stayed so cheerful, she whispered, “Every morning I sing the Magnificat—out loud if I can, in my heart if I can’t. It reminds me that God is still turning the world upside down. Even here.”

Her joy didn’t come from her surroundings—it came from her Saviour

As you journey through Advent, what song are you singing?
Is it shaped by the headlines or by the hope of Christ?
Is your joy waiting for everything to feel right, or does it spring from the deep well of God’s promises?

Let Mary’s Magnificat be your own. Sing out—not because life is easy, but because God is good, faithful, and near.

Prayer

My soul magnifies you, O God!
In my waiting and in my worry,
in my weakness and my worship—
let your joy be born in me.
Lift up the lowly parts of my heart.
Let your promise live in me.
Amen.

Advent Devotions

Today’s Theme: Joy in the Waiting

Scripture: “Weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” – Psalm 30:5

Well might we pray, “Lord, let your joy be my strength.”

Advent is a season marked by waiting—waiting in darkness, waiting for hope, waiting for the promised light. Psalm 30:5 captures that tension with aching honesty: “Weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”

We know the night. We’ve sat in hospital rooms and stood at gravesides. We’ve waited on phone calls that never came, answers that never arrived, changes that felt endlessly delayed. The psalm doesn't pretend the night doesn’t exist—but it also doesn’t let the night have the final word.

During World War II, a group of prisoners were being transported by train through the Alps. The journey took them through a long, dark tunnel. As the train entered the tunnel, the carriage fell silent. One child began to cry in the darkness.

But suddenly, the voice of his father cut through:
"Don’t worry—my hand is still here."
The boy grabbed it and grew quiet, comforted not by the light, but by the presence that promised the light would return.

Advent reminds us that we are not alone in the tunnel. God’s hand is still here, even when morning feels far off. Joy may not come on our schedule, but it does come. That’s the rhythm of resurrection, of Christmas morning after a dark night in Bethlehem.

So we wait—not without tears, but with hope. And hope, in Christ, always bends toward joy.

Lord, let your joy be my strength. In the waiting, remind me that your morning is on the way. Hold me through the night, until joy rises like the sun. Amen.

Advent Devotionals

“Rejoice in the Lord always!” – Philippians 4:4

Day 15 –  Joy Above Disappointment

Reading: Luke 1:5–25
Theme: God brings joy to what feels impossible.

In the quiet shadows of a long disappointment, Zechariah and Elizabeth had given up hope of children. Their prayers, once fervent, had likely faded into silence. But Advent reminds us that even when hope seems buried, God is still listening—and still working.

When the angel Gabriel appears in the temple, his announcement shatters the silence: "Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard." What follows is not just the promise of a child, but the promise of joy—“You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth.” (v. 14)

God’s grace often enters through the places we deem barren—our empty hopes, our impossible situations, our waiting rooms of despair. The birth of John the Baptist is a signal flare in the darkness: God hasn’t forgotten. In Advent, we prepare for the joy that breaks into barrenness, the joy that comes with Christ.

There’s a story told of a woman in an inner-city neighbourhood who, for years, tended a small patch of earth between two crumbling buildings. The soil was poor, choked with debris, and shaded most of the day. No one believed anything worthwhile could grow there.

But every morning, without fail, she came with her trowel and her watering can. Neighbours scoffed at her hope—until one spring, green shoots began to appear. By midsummer, sunflowers stretched to the sky, and tomatoes hung ripe on the vine. The barren place had bloomed.

When asked how she managed it, she simply said:
“The ground was broken, so I just gave it time, love, and faith.”

Advent invites us to believe that God is still planting joy in barren places—still working miracles where we’ve stopped looking. Even in the silence, even in the waiting, God is preparing something good.

Let this season rekindle your trust that nothing is impossible with God. The silence will not last forever.

Prayer:
Restore to me the joy of your salvation, O Lord. Where I have given up hope, speak again. Where I feel barren, breathe life. Make me ready to receive your joy. Amen.

Advent Devotional

Day 14 –The Peaceable Kingdom

Isaiah 2:1–5

Devotional Thought:
Isaiah paints a stunning vision of peace: a time when nations will lay down their swords and turn their weapons into tools for growing food—ploughshares instead of swords. It’s a vision of radical transformation, where conflict gives way to harmony, and war is replaced by worship.

This peace isn’t just about the absence of fighting—it’s the presence of justice, humility, and true reverence for God. It’s a peace that changes hearts and communities, and invites all people to walk in the light of the Lord.

In the midst of our noisy, divided world, this vision reminds us of what Advent is really about: preparing not just for Christmas, but for the coming Kingdom of peace. We wait for the Prince of Peace to teach us His ways—to turn our fears into faith, our quarrels into quiet, and our swords into tools of new life.

There’s a story of a veteran who, after years of service in the military, decided to become a farmer. One day, as he looked over his fields, he held in his hands an old, worn sword he had carried during his time in battle.

Instead of burying the sword or putting it on display, he took a hammer and shaped the metal into a sturdy ploughshare—the blade that turns the soil for planting crops.

He said, “This sword once took life, but now it helps bring life. That’s the peace I want to live by—a peace that transforms, renews, and builds.”

Isaiah’s vision of turning swords into ploughshares invites us to live out a peace that is active and transformative. This Advent, let’s open our hearts to that transformation and pray for the wisdom and courage to follow the Prince of Peace.

Prayer:
Prince of Peace, teach us your ways. Help us to walk humbly, seek justice, and love mercy. Make us instruments of your peace, that your Kingdom may come here on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

Advent Devotional

Day 13 –The Way of Peace

Romans 5:1–5

Devotional Thought:
In a season filled with to-do lists, expectations, and striving to make everything “just right,” it’s easy to believe peace is something we have to earn. But Paul reminds us:
“Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

This peace isn’t the result of perfection or performance. It’s a gift of grace.
We are invited not into pressure, but into peace. Not into fear, but into hope. Not into earning, but into receiving.

And even in suffering, Paul says we can still live in peace—because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. Peace doesn’t depend on circumstances. It flows from the One who is constant.

In Advent, we’re reminded that peace doesn’t arrive through what we do, but through what Christ has done. We light candles, sing carols, and prepare our hearts not to achieve peace—but to welcome it.

A man once bought a top-of-the-line treadmill. He was determined to get in shape, set goals, tracked his progress, and pushed himself every day. But over time, he became discouraged. No matter how hard he worked, he felt stuck. He said, “I realised I was running every day but never going anywhere.”

One day he went for a walk outside instead. No timer. No goal. Just movement and presence. As he walked under the open sky, something shifted in his heart. He wasn’t earning anything—he was receiving it. The fresh air, the beauty, the stillness. Peace came not from effort, but from letting go.
Many of us approach peace like that treadmill—we try to earn it through performance or control. But Romans 5 shows us a better way:
The way of peace is the way of grace.

We don’t run toward peace—we rest in it. It doesn’t come by doing more, but by trusting more deeply in the One who has already done it all.

Prayer:
Lord, I receive your peace that passes understanding. Quiet my striving, soften my fear, and help me live in the grace that brings true and lasting peace. Amen.

Advent Devotional

Day 12 – A Song of Peace

Luke 1:67–79

Devotional Thought:
After months of silence, Zechariah speaks—not with complaint or fear, but with a song. His words are not about himself, but about what God is doing for all people: raising up a Savior, fulfilling promises, and guiding us “into the path of peace.”

He sees peace coming not like a storm, but like a sunrise—gentle, sure, and unstoppable.
“The rising sun will come to us from heaven... to guide our feet into the path of peace.” (Luke 1:78–79)

Zechariah’s song reminds us that God’s peace isn’t a sudden fix, but a dawning light. It reaches into dark places—into fear, into confusion, into the unknown—and begins to warm and guide us, one step at a time.

In Advent, we are like people watching the horizon. The world is still dim, but the sky is starting to glow. Hope is stirring. Peace is coming. The light is rising.

A night watchman once told the story of working long, quiet shifts in a remote mountain town. Each evening, he would begin his rounds in complete darkness—no lights, no people, just the hum of distant wind and the occasional rustle in the trees.

He admitted he was often uneasy. Every shadow felt like a threat. Every sound made him flinch. But he said the best moment came just before sunrise.

“I couldn’t see the sun yet,” he said, “but the sky would start to change. Black became deep blue. Then a faint gold would stretch across the horizon. The light didn’t rush in all at once—but the moment it came, the fear melted. Every morning, it reminded me that darkness never has the final word.”
Zechariah’s prophecy paints a similar picture: the peace of God rising like the morning sun. It doesn’t crash in—it dawns.Slowly, faithfully, and with growing strength. Even before Jesus was born, Zechariah saw the light beginning to rise.

We often long for peace to arrive instantly. But Advent reminds us: peace begins like a sunrise—quiet, but certain. It starts in the shadows, but it always reaches us.

Prayer:
Let your peace rise in me each day, Lord. Like the morning sun, warm what is cold, and illuminate what is hidden. Lead my feet into your path of peace, and help me walk in your light. Amen.

“The dawn from on high will break upon us… to guide our feet into the path of peace.” (Luke 1:78–79)

Advent Devotional

Day 11 – Let It Be with Me

Luke 1:26–38

Devotional Thought:
When the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary, he greeted her with astounding words: “You have found favour with God.” But that favour wasn’t what most of us would expect. It didn’t come with comfort, ease, or recognition. It came with uncertainty, risk, and a call to surrender.

Mary asked, “How can this be?”—and yet, she responded with one of the most faithful declarations in all of Scripture:
“Let it be with me according to your word.”

Her surrender made space for the Prince of Peace to enter the world. She didn’t have all the answers. She didn’t control the outcome. But she offered herself—fully, humbly, courageously.

Advent is a season of waiting and preparing. But more than that, it's a season of surrender. Like Mary, we are invited to make room in our lives for God to do the unexpected. Peace is not found in knowing every step ahead, but in trusting the One who goes before us.

A well-known artist once held a workshop. Dozens of eager students came, ready to learn how to paint like a master. At the beginning of class, he handed each person a canvas—but there was a twist: each canvas had a few bold strokes already painted by him.

Some students looked frustrated. “How can I make this my painting with someone else’s marks already there?”
Others got creative, trying to hide the original strokes or paint around them.

But one student did something different. She looked at the marks, then said, “These are not mistakes. They’re invitations.” And she built her whole painting around what had already been placed—letting the brushstrokes of the master guide her own.

At the end of the workshop, the artist chose hers as the one that reflected true partnership with the original design.

Mary’s response to God wasn’t resistance—it was surrender. She didn’t demand a blank page. She didn’t say, “Only if I understand.” She simply said, “Let it be with me according to your word.”

True peace comes when we stop fighting God’s brushstrokes in our lives and begin trusting His hand—even when the picture isn’t finished. Mary’s surrender made room for peace to be born. So can ours.

Prayer:
I open my heart to your will, O God. Help me to surrender my fears, my plans, and my expectations. May I, like Mary, be a willing vessel of your peace. Let it be with me according to your word. Amen.