Thoughts, Prayers & Art

As I sit in silence this Advent season, conserving my words for the services that stretch through Christmas, I find myself drawn into deep reflection. A lingering physical pain reminds me of my own fragility, yet it opens a window to ponder the brokenness of our world. My thoughts drift to the growing chasm between the powerful elite and the poor and oppressed—the billionaires who wield unimaginable influence and the countless others who labor under the weight of systemic inequality.

I think about the insatiable thirst for power. How long can such desires grow unchecked before the foundations of justice demand their collapse? How long will the cries of the poor rise before they are heard? These questions feel as old as time, echoing the psalms of lament that cry out, “How long, O Lord, how long?”

And yet, I also think of the coming of Christmas. Amid this stark contrast between the powerful and the powerless, the Advent story reminds us of a different kind of power—a power rooted in humility, vulnerability, and love. The King of kings entered the world not in palaces or wealth but in a stable, wrapped in the care of a young mother and a carpenter. God’s answer to the brokenness of the world was not a show of force but an act of solidarity, stepping into our pain and becoming one of us.

The Christmas story flips the world’s values on their head. Mary’s Magnificat sings of a God who “has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly.” The birth of Christ is a promise that the thirst for power will not reign forever. The justice of God is sure and steadfast, even when it feels delayed. The hope of Christmas reminds us that empires crumble, but the love of God endures forever.

So, I sit here wondering: when will the rumblings of the people rise to demand justice? What must happen for the oppressed to find their voice and for unity to emerge among those who long for righteousness? Perhaps the question is not just what the world must do, but what we must do. How are we being called to live as agents of justice and peace in our time?

This Christmas, as we wait for the Savior to draw near, we also wait for the fullness of God’s kingdom. The cries of “How long?” remain, but they are not cries into the void. They are prayers, rising alongside the ancient promise that God is with us.

In this season of waiting, I invite you to sit with these questions, as I do now. Allow the tension of the world’s brokenness and the promise of God’s justice to stir in your heart. And as you wait, remember this: Christ comes not only in the grand moments of history but also in the quiet places—in silence, in reflection, in the deep longing for justice and peace.

The Christmas story is, at its heart, a story of hope. It is the reminder that even in our darkest nights, a light has dawned. The Savior draws near, and with Him comes a love so powerful that it cannot be extinguished. This is the hope we cling to and the love we share.

May the love of Christ, born in Bethlehem, fill your heart this Christmas and give you strength for the journey ahead. May it inspire you to work for justice, to love your neighbor, and to trust that God’s promises are sure.

Even as we cry, “How long, O Lord?” let us rejoice that the answer has already begun. God is with us, now and always.

Blessings to you this Christmas and beyond.