Hope Rising From Brokenness

Advent begins by training our eyes to look for life where everything seems cut down. Isaiah sees a shoot springing from the stump of Jesse; fragile, green, impossible; while Jesus rejoices that the Father reveals His ways not to the accomplished or calculating, but to the childlike. In a noisy world that prizes speed, certainty, and control, these readings invite a different posture: attentive wonder, courageous justice, and a hope stubborn enough to stand in ruins and expect bloom.

Hope That Grows From What Looks Dead

A stump is what remains after something once strong has been felled. Israel’s monarchy was a memory; the line of David looked finished. Many know that feeling: career paths abruptly cut, relationships ending, health shaken, communities fractured, trust in institutions thinned. Advent does not deny the stump. It draws near to it and dares to look for the hidden sap.

God’s answer is not nostalgia or mere repair; it is new life from old roots. The Messiah rises not as a return to “how it was,” but as a surprising fulfillment: the Spirit rests on Him in fullness; He judges with truth, not appearances; He brings a peace so real that predatory instincts are unlearned; the wolf reclines with the lamb. Isaiah’s vision is not sentimental. The predators do not simply pause; they are transformed. Advent hope, then, is not about passively enduring chaos until heaven. It is expectancy that the Spirit can change the very ecology of our desires; personally and socially; so that what once devoured now protects, what once feared now rests.

Where are the stumps in your life? Place your attention there. Not to wallow, but to watch. Grace often starts small; like a shoot; and asks for patient tending.

Seeing Beyond Appearances

Isaiah tells of a ruler who will not judge by sight or secondhand rumor. That is a necessary word in an age shaped by headlines, hot takes, and algorithmic outrage. The justice promised in the Psalm; rescuing the poor, defending the lowly; is impossible if our discernment is thinner than our reactions.

The Spirit who rests upon the Christ is given to His people to train our perception. To seek truth rather than impressions. To listen for the cry of those the world forgets. To be girded with justice and faithfulness, not with suspicion or self-protection. Advent asks us to slow down our judgments and let God recalibrate our gaze.

A simple practice: before sharing news, ask whose perspective is missing. Before forming an opinion, ask whom this reality wounds. Before dismissing someone, ask what story of pain or longing might stand behind their posture. Our King’s “rod” is His word; truth spoken with authority, not the violence of contempt. We are invited to speak and act likewise: with clarity anchored in mercy.

Childlike Wisdom in an Age of Expertise

When Jesus rejoices in the Holy Spirit, He blesses the “childlike.” This is not anti-intellectual. Christian faith loves reason and study. But childlikeness names a posture: receptive, trusting, joyful at gift. The learned can become closed when knowledge morphs into control; the childlike remain open to surprise. In our climate of credentialism and cynicism, Advent proposes humility as wisdom.

“Blessed are the eyes that see what you see,” Jesus tells His disciples. We have access to realities prophets longed for: the Word in Scripture, the Lord in the Eucharist, the Spirit poured into hearts, the Church as a living body where Christ acts. Boredom before such gifts is not a small problem; it is a symptom that our sight has dulled. Ask today for the grace to be astonished again. Let a brief passage of Isaiah provoke real wonder. Let the poor become teachers. Let prayer begin not with a list, but with praise: “Father, Lord of heaven and earth, I praise You.”

Justice That Looks Like Peace

The Psalm entwines justice and peace; they are not rivals but conditions for each other. “Fullness of peace” requires that the vulnerable be seen and served: the poor rescued, the lowly lifted, the afflicted helped. Peace apart from justice is quietism; justice without peace can burn into resentment. The Messiah holds them together because He carries both truth and tenderness, both judgment and mercy.

This matters in the micro and the macro. In a family, justice looks like honest boundaries, shared burdens, and time reserved for rest and relationship. In workplaces, it looks like fair pay and cultures of respect. In a city, it looks like attention to migrants and the unhoused, refusing to let fear dictate policy or personal response. Isaiah’s world where the lamb feels safe beside the wolf is a world where the strong have allowed their strength to be converted into protection, not consumption.

Christ “strikes” the ruthless with the rod of His mouth; His word unmasking lies; and “slays” wickedness with His breath; the Spirit who convicts and heals. Our advocacy should mirror that: truth-telling without dehumanizing, firm action free of rancor, repentance as the way real change happens.

Practicing Advent: Small Acts, Deep Roots

Grace often enters life through small doors. Try one or two practices this week to till the soil for the shoot to grow.

• Begin with praise: Each morning, say slowly, “Father, Lord of heaven and earth, I praise You,” naming one concrete gift from the last 24 hours. Let gratitude soften cynicism.
• Read to see: Sit with Isaiah 11 for ten minutes. Which image arrests you; the shoot, the belt of justice, the child among animals? Ask God what it means for your life today.
• Judge with mercy: Choose a news story that bothers you. Before reacting, pray one Our Father for everyone involved, especially the most vulnerable. Refuse to share unverified claims.
• Befriend the poor: Make a tangible choice; visit a shelter, give generously to a trusted local ministry, or share a meal with someone who is often alone. Let relationship, not relief alone, shape your giving.
• Make peace nearby: Identify one strained relationship. Do one humble act; apology, listening without defense, a sincere note; toward reconciliation.
• Fast from contempt: This week, refrain from sarcastic put-downs online or in conversation. If critique is needed, offer it as a gift oriented to the other’s good.

These are not tasks to earn God’s nearness. They are ways to become porous to the nearness already given.

Blessed Eyes, Willing Hearts

“Blessed are the eyes that see what you see.” Advent insists that blessing is not delayed until Christmas; it is offered now. The Lord is not asking us to manufacture light; He is asking us to stop staring at the darkness as if it were ultimate. The shoot is already breaking soil. The Spirit is already at work, reshaping instincts, healing judgments, making space where hostility once lived.

Ask today for the sevenfold grace of the Spirit; wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, holy fear, and a delighted reverence; so that justice may bind your life and faithfulness hold you steady. In a world of stumps, become a sign of green. In a culture of quick takes, learn to see as God sees. And in the ordinary contours of this day, let the Child lead.