The struggles you think no one notices – He sees. The tears you cry in the silence of the night? He knows.

The hands that held the cosmos curled into tiny fists. The voice that thundered at Sinai cried out in hunger. He who had no limits emptied Himself, not because He had to, but because He wanted to. He wanted you.

What about joy that stands firm in the shadows, refusing to be snuffed out? That’s the kind of joy Christ carried to the cross—the kind of joy that Advent calls us to remember and reflect.

The world is full of roads. Some are paved with good intentions, others with ambition, pride, or fear. They crisscross and spiral, promising everything and delivering nothing.

This is Advent – the moment when heaven and earth collided, when the glory of God broke into the mundane. The angels’ song wasn’t just for the shepherds. It was for the world.

Kings don’t usually arrive like this. Kings demand attention. They stride in with banners flying, armies marching, and horns blaring. They wear gold and jewels, sit on thrones, and wield power over trembling subjects.

Welcome to Advent—a season of fierce grace and unyielding joy. Stop. Breathe it in. The King has come, triumphing over the grave and reigning on

Advent is not a story of humanity inching its way toward God—it is a story about God racing headlong into the darkness to find us. You didn’t stumble into salvation by chance.

Hunger is relentless. It gnaws at the edges of life, a constant reminder of our frailty. You eat, and then you’re hungry again. You drink, and the thirst comes back. The world offers feasts that promise satisfaction—success, possessions, recognition—but they don’t last. They never do. You’re full one moment, empty the next.