Advent Devotional December 22, 2025

Scripture

Luke 1:57-66

57 Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. 58 Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her.

59 On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him Zechariah after his father. 60 But his mother said, “No; he is to be called John.” 61 They said to her, “None of your relatives has this name.” 62 Then they began motioning to his father to find out what name he wanted to give him. 63 He asked for a writing tablet and wrote, “His name is John.” And all of them were amazed. 64 Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue freed, and he began to speak, praising God. 65 Fear came over all their neighbors, and all these things were talked about throughout the entire hill country of Judea. 66 All who heard them pondered them and said, “What then will this child become?” For indeed the hand of the Lord was with him.

Devotion

The Rev. Dr. Karleen Jung '25

On Dec. 22, as daylight is at its shortest, we find ourselves in a season of anticipation and waiting. In this deep midwinter time, we read of the birth of John the Baptist. It’s a time that stands in thoughtful contrast to the height of summer, which is when we actually commemorate the feast of the Nativity of John the Baptist. John’s birth has always resonated with me because my own natal celebration falls on his feast day in June.

Luke describes John’s miraculous birth to Elizabeth and Zechariah, an event that filled their neighbors with awe and wonder. When the time came for his naming, it was Zechariah who, despite being unable to speak, wrote on a tablet, “His name is John.” This act—in defiance of family tradition—confirmed the hand of God at work, leading everyone to wonder who John would become. It serves as a tender reminder of our own unique callings—our purposes that are woven into the very fabric of our being.

John’s feast day, celebrated when the sun reigns supreme and the days are longest, seems to perfectly embody his role as the fervent prophet, preparing the way. Yet, his most profound words, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30), resonate deeply with the turning of the seasons: John, the light-bringer of the Abrahamic covenant, humbly steps back as the Light of the world draws near. John’s summer light wanes, making way for the increasing light of Christ, born in the deepest part of winter.

As we wait for the Christ child in the quietness of this winter day, we, too, are invited to embrace John’s humble posture. What in our own lives needs to diminish? Perhaps it is our anxieties, our self-reliance, our distractions? What must we release so that Christ’s light can truly increase within us?

This season is not simply about commemorating a historical birth, but about opening our hearts to allow the incarnation to happen anew. In this time of dark midwinter, may the light of Christ dispel your inner shadows, and may you more fully experience God’s shalom.

Prayer

Divine Light, as days shorten, help us to humbly make space within. May we release what hinders so Your light may grow in us, dispelling shadows and bringing peace. Amen.