Why is Advent Important?

Isaiah 9:2–7; Luke 1:26–38; Titus 2:11–14

As Christians, we are called to watch, pray, and wait for Christ Jesus. Advent teaches us how to wait well with holy expectation rather than resignation. In a world that values instant results, waiting can seem like a weakness. Many want Christmas morning without Advent preparation, deliverance without repentance, and joy without discipline. Yet, God works powerfully in our waiting. Advent matters because it shapes us into who God created us to be and trains the Church to live in the tension between what is and what will be. Looking back at Christ's first coming stirs our longing for His return. Let’s examine why Advent is essential.

Let’s begin with the first thing Advent reminds us of: our need for grace. Isaiah 9:2 says, “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light…” Each year, Advent shows humanity in darkness, yet God sends light. Like Israel under oppression, Mary in obscurity, and a weary world longing for redemption, we cannot save ourselves. God acted first. Advent teaches that we are not our own source of hope. We cannot fix human brokenness; God’s grace must break in. We do not find God; he comes to us.

Picture this: a pastor once entered a sanctuary before sunrise. It was pitch black. He lit the first Advent candle, and suddenly the small flame pushed back the darkness. A single light changes the sanctuary. This is God’s grace, God’s light breaking in before we even know we need it. Here is a profound truth of Christianity: God is already drawing us to him before we even try to go to God. Advent is the season when we, as believers, must listen again for the footsteps of God approaching.

Next, Advent calls us to holy expectation and a sanctified life. Titus 2:11-13 reads, “The grace of God… teaches us to say ‘No’ to ungodliness… while we wait for the blessed hope.” Advent is not passive. It is not simply remembering. It is preparing for the coming of the Lord Christ Jesus. Look at Mary’s response to the Angel; she did not say, “Let me get back to you.” She did not say, “I am not ready.” She definitely did not say, “Maybe later.” Mary’s response was immediate and surrendered: “Let it be to me according to your word.” Advent reminds us that God doesn’t just want to enter this world; he wants to enter us, and when he enters our lives, he sanctifies it. There is a prayer that we, as believers, should pray during this Advent season: “Come, Lord Jesus—come into my heart and make me holy.”

Let me ask you a question: What do you do when you’re expecting guests in your home? My wife and I clean our house, prepare food, and put things in order. Advent asks us, “If Jesus were to return today, would he find the house of your life ready?” It does not need to be perfect, but it should be yielded. Not sinless by effort, but surrendered to God’s grace. Advent is a spiritual house cleaning.

In addition, Advent forms us as people who are longing for Christ’s return. Philippians 3:20 reads, “We await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ…” As believers in Christ, we are not driven by eschatological hope; we are not practising escapism, but we are being transformed. We just don’t recall that Jesus came; we proclaim that he is coming again. Advent teaches us, as believers, to lift our eyes from the political chaos, global conflict, personal struggles, and cultural darkness. Advent teaches us to boldly say, “This is not the end of the story.”

During biblical times, cities would have people standing on the walls waiting for the king to return from battle; these people were called watchmen. When they saw the king coming, they would shout to the city, “The king is coming! Prepare the way for him!” Believers in Christ are God’s watchmen today, and Advent is our annual reminder to stay awake, alert, hopeful and ready.

Furthermore, Advent restores our wonder and worship. It should slow us down, teach us childlike awe, and it should disarm our cynicism. In this consumer-driven Christmas culture obsessed with noise, Advent whispers, “Be still. God is on the way.” Worship is the furnace where holy love burns brightest. Advent is not sentimental; it is formational. When we sing hymns like “O Come, O Come Emmanuel”, “Come Thou Long-Expected Jesus” or “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence”, we are not merely singing carols. We are praying dangerous prayers like this, “Come into this world again. Come into my heart again. Come into our brokenness again.” Advent recalibrates our souls to adorn Christ above all else.

Finally, Advent prepares us for both Christmas and Christ’s kingdom. Christmas without Advent is like Easter without Lent. Advent prepares the soul so the Seed of Christmas Truth can take root. Advent tells us, “Christ has come, Christ is coming, and Christ will come again.” Advent tells us Christmas is not just a story; it is a kingdom. A Kingdom where the poor are lifted up, holiness is possible, grace abounds, Joy triumphs, and darkness cannot win. Advent is shaping us into citizens of Christ’s kingdom.

In closing, remember that Advent reveals our need for grace and teaches us to wait because we cannot save ourselves. It trains us in holy expectation and invites us to prepare for Christ to reign in us. Advent renews our hope for Christ’s return and forms us in worship and wonder. Through Advent, we are anchored in the story of redemption, finding holy purpose in our celebration.

As we are in the midst of Advent, ask yourself these questions. Have I allowed God’s grace to wake it in me anew? Where is the spirit calling me to holy preparation? Do I live like somebody expecting Jesus to return? Have I lost my wonder? Is there room for Christ in every corner of my life?

John Wesley had a simple but powerful prayer during Advent, “O Thou who camest from above, Kindle a flame of sacred love. On the mean altar of my heart.” We should be praying:

Come, Lord Jesus.

Come into our hearts.

Come into Your Church.

Come into this world.

We wait for You—

not with fear, but with hope;

not with anxiety, but with joy;

not with passivity, but with holy expectation.

Amen.