Christ Be Our Light

11.30.2025

Advent 1

When Fear Prostrated to Hope

[Readings]

Lamentations 3:55-57

Psalm 121

Romans 13:11-14

Luke 1:5-13

Advent blessings to you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

This Advent, we are following a theme from Sanctified Art that invites us to face our fears with the gifts God gives—hope, peace, joy, and love. Each week we take one gift and let it guide us.

In the first week, we meet fear with Hope. In the second, we meet fear with Peace. In the third, we meet fear with Joy. And in the fourth, we meet fear with Love—the greatest gift of all, poured out in the birth of Christ.

God created us not only as intellectual beings but also as emotional beings. And within that gift of emotion, we find both fear and hope. Fear can paralyze us or drive us to fight or flee. Hope, however, helps us recognize our limitations and leads us to seek companionship, guidance, and protection.

When Scripture says “fear overwhelmed Zechariah” in Luke 1, it is not the kind of fear that paralyzes us in daily life, but the holy awe that comes when God’s presence breaks in, which he had been waiting for a long time.

Zechariah trembled before the angel, yet the message was clear: “Do not be afraid… your prayer has been heard.” That moment is powerful because Zechariah had never stopped praying. Even through decades of disappointment, he kept trusting that God would hear. His hope was not abandoned, and his story was not finished. When God’s faithfulness arrived, the long struggle of fear finally gave way to hope.

Just as the parable of the two wolves I shared last Sunday reminds us: when we feed hope, hope wins.

In Zechariah and Elizabeth’s story, we see a renewed life where fear bowed before hope, a vivid image of Good News for us today.

Hope wins! That’s the Good News for us.

And yet, how often have we felt that hope in God is too quiet, too fragile, as though God might not see or remember? Advent reminds us that even in those moments, God’s promises are alive, and hope is stronger than fear.

Zechariah’s silence for nine months was not punishment so much as formation—a posture of fear slowly bowed, and hope was strengthened.

When Zechariah finally spoke, his first words were praise. This is what happens when fear has knelt long enough at the feet of hope: praising God becomes our first language.

Still, we don’t want to dismiss another kind of fear we know well—the kind of fear that leaves us frozen, makes us run, or tempts us to hide the truth. It’s like the story of a college student who wrote a letter to her parents. Allow me to read you this classic humorous letter, which has been passed around for years and shows how perspective can change the way we hear bad news.

Dear Mum and Dad,

It’s been three months since I left for college, and I know I’ve been slow to write. I’m sorry for that. Before I tell you how things are going, please sit down. Really—don’t read any further unless you’re sitting… okay?

So, here’s the update. I’m doing pretty well now. The skull fracture and concussion I got when I jumped out of my dorm window—after it caught fire shortly after I arrived—are almost healed. I only spent two weeks in the hospital, and now I can see almost normally, with just three headaches a day.

Luckily, the fire and my jump were witnessed by a gas station attendant nearby. He called the fire department and the ambulance, and even visited me in the hospital. Since my dorm was destroyed, he kindly invited me to live with him. It’s really just a basement room, but it’s kind of cute.

He’s a wonderful boy, and we’ve fallen deeply in love. We’re planning to get married soon—before my pregnancy begins to show. Yes, Mum and Dad, I’m pregnant. I know how much you’re looking forward to being grandparents, and I’m sure you’ll welcome the baby with the same love and care you gave me.

The reason we haven’t set a date yet is that my fiancé has a minor infection that kept us from passing the premarital blood test. Unfortunately, I caught it, too. He’s kind but less educated, but ambitious. He’s of a different race and religion, but I know your tolerance will help you accept him. His skin is a little darker than ours, but I’m sure you’ll love him as I do.

Now that I’ve brought you up to date, I should tell you the truth: there was no dorm fire, no concussion, no hospital stay, no pregnancy, no engagement, no infection, and no boyfriend.

But—I did fail all my exams. And I wanted you to see these results in the proper perspective.

Love, Your daughter

Her parents must have been relieved, even thankful, that their daughter was safe. They might even have praised God for it. "Thanks be to God! She just failed her exams!"

That letter reminds us how fear can twist us into exaggeration or dishonesty. But God does not ask us to pretend. God meets us as we are, and where we are, in our faith journey. We don’t need to lie or cover up our fears. Like Zechariah, we may tremble in awe before God’s presence, but we can trust the hope God has planted in us. By God’s grace through faith in Christ, we are in—all the way in—with Jesus. Just as the first time we acknowledged Christ's light in our baptism, just as the freshness we proclaimed and committed to be the light of Christ when we affirmed and confirmed our faith.

So let Christ be our light—the light of hope, not fear. Let Christ’s light shine brighter than any shadow lingering in our lives and in the world.

In Advent Season, let us remember:

Hope wins. Peace wins. Joy wins. Love wins. Christ wins.

To conclude, instead of a prayer, I invite you now to sing the hymn ELW #715, Christ, Be Our Light, the first stanza and its refrain together, to end today’s message with “Amen.”