Today’s Scripture Readings

Gospel Reading

NRSV

— 57 Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. Her neighbours and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her. On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him Zechariah after his father. But his mother said, ‘No; he is to be called John.’ They said to her, ‘None of your relatives has this name.’ Then they began motioning to his father to find out what name he wanted to give him. He asked for a writing-tablet and wrote, ‘His name is John.’ And all of them were amazed. Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue freed, and he began to speak, praising God. Fear came over all their neighbours, and all these things were talked about throughout the entire hill country of Judea. All who heard them pondered them and said, ‘What then will this child become?’ For, indeed, the hand of the Lord was with him.

As Advent draws near its end, these words from Malachi echo with urgency and hope, “See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me…indeed, he is coming, says the Lord.” God is coming. A messenger is sent to prepare the way.

In today’s gospel, we hear of the birth of that messenger—John the Baptist. His birth stirs wonder and amazement in the hearts of all who witness it. Those gathered ask, “What then will this child become?” (Luke 1:66). Beneath their question is a deeper one: What might God be doing among us, even now?

Advent reminds us that God’s coming is not just something to observe. It is something to prepare for, and that kind of preparation is not passive. As the poet Luci Shaw writes, Advent is “the kind of waiting that feels like work.” It is the deep interior work of clearing space for God, trimming away distraction, and lighting even the smallest candle of hope.

Elizabeth’s neighbours rejoiced at John’s birth, recognising the mercy God made visible in her life: “the Lord had shown his great mercy to her.” (Luke 1:58). That same mercy reaches for us, even now. It whispers gently that we, too, are seen, remembered, and called.

This is the invitation of these final Advent days: to believe that the God who came, still comes. In our smallness. In our waiting. In our everyday lives.

So, let us prepare not just our homes, but our hearts. Let us clear the clutter of fear, distraction and doubt. And in its place, let us kindle the light of hope. Christ comes, not only born in Bethlehem, but to be born in us.