Advent Devotional December 4, 2025

Scripture

2 Peter 3:11–18

11 Since all these things are to be destroyed in this way, what sort of persons ought you to be in leading lives of holiness and godliness, 12 waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set ablaze and destroyed and the elements will melt with fire? 13 But, in accordance with his promise, we wait for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home.

14 Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace, without spot or blemish, 15 and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation. So also our beloved brother Paul wrote to you according to the wisdom given him, 16 speaking of this as he does in all his letters. There are some things in them hard to understand, which the ignorant and unstable twist to their own destruction, as they do the other scriptures. 17 You therefore, beloved, since you are forewarned, beware that you are not carried away with the error of the lawless and lose your own stability. 18 But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity. Amen.

Devotion

The Rev. Dr. Michael Haddox ’12/’24

“I remember his smile,” she said lovingly, like she was remembering out loud more than talking to me. “He loved to play cards and dance. Sometimes he’d dance with me. Nobody could dance like Daddy.”

I didn’t say anything for a moment. I just watched her face, younger somehow in the remembering.

“I used to stand on his feet. He’d hold my hands and spin me around … Just me and him, in the kitchen.”

Looking back, that moment made me think of Christmas decorations. We put them up every year, but they never last. Over time, the lights don’t shine as brightly, and new ones are bought. The wreath gets dry and brittle, so you throw it out. Ornaments break, and you replace them. But no matter how many new things you hang on the tree, you can feel what’s missing. You feel what time has stolen.

That’s often how I feel when I talk with Grandma. The wheelchair holds her in place. She hasn’t danced in years. Her body has forgotten how to. And some days, her mind forgets, too.

But not on this day. Her memory—of her dad and dancing in the kitchen—came from someplace deeper. Someplace time couldn’t touch. This wasn’t nostalgia. It was something more. It was holy.

This life is full of fading things. We try to hold on, but everything eventually wears out and breaks. But according to God’s promise, that’s not how our story ends.

That dance she remembers isn’t over. It’s just on pause.

The wheelchair, the broken memories, the aging body, are real, but they aren’t final. The chipped ornaments and broken dreams don’t get the last word.

One day, the wheelchair will be empty, not because of death, but because of resurrection.

And the music will start again.

Prayer

Almighty God, thank You for the gift of life, even when fragile and fading. Help us hold on to Your promise, that death and loss will not win. We trust You, Lord. I look forward to the day when we all will dance again. In Jesus’ name, amen.