Light Dawns

Sunday during worship, we were led by our children into the wonder of the Christmas story, not as a distant tale, but as a living reality that still smiles and sings in us. We paid attention to how the story begins before Bethlehem—how God sends light ahead of the arrival, signs ahead of the miracle. Angels announce peace before peace breaks wide open. A star rises before anyone sees a manger. A promise grows in Mary long before anyone understands it. Advent names this pattern: God’s light begins in the dimness, quietly pushing at the edges of our night before we can make sense of it.

We sat with the image of dawn. No one can pinpoint the exact moment night relents, but we see the horizon lift—soft, almost imperceptible—until we realize light has been at work longer than we knew. Spiritually, we often keep the curtains closed. We assume nothing has changed. But stepping outside into the dawn—opening our eyes, practicing attentiveness—allows us to notice the small clues: a word of encouragement that arrives right when our strength frays, an unexpected opening in a stuck situation, a steadying calm in an anxious hour. These aren’t the whole of God’s work, but they are the signs that lead us to the One who is coming.

John says, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Hear that as past tense victory. In Christ, darkness has already failed. The glow may be faint right now, but it is true light, and true light changes us. So we asked: Where is God giving me signs today—of love, of a path forward, of forgiveness, of a new beginning? Perhaps it’s right in front of us, like dawn before sunrise.

Even God’s table tells this story. Bread and cup are ordinary things that have carried promise long before we fully see it—just as Passover carried hope for centuries before Jesus. As you receive the bread and the cup each day this week – whether its breakfast, lunch or dinner – ask for eyes to notice the small lights God is already planting along your path. Yes, the sun is rising. But even now, the horizon is brightening. May you move toward the dawn, trusting that God is illuminating your way before you can see the fullness of what God is doing.

Key Scriptures

John 1:5
Matthew 1:18–2:23
Luke 2:1–20

Key Takeaways

• Light rises before we’re ready – Advent shows us God’s timing often precedes our understanding. The signs of grace start as a quiet glow long before the outcome is clear. Faith learns to name and nurture that glow rather than dismiss it for not being midday. Trust grows by practicing attention in the grey. [35:39]
• Watch for small, ordinary signs – The star wasn’t the Messiah; it pointed to Him. In the same way, small encouragements, timely people, and inner shifts are not “the whole miracle,” but coordinates leading us to Christ’s presence. Holiness often wears the clothes of the everyday. [37:43]
• Open your eyes; step outside – The dawn can be rising while we sit in darkness with the curtains drawn. Courage sometimes looks like stepping into the light that’s already available. Attention is an act of faith; when we look, we often discover God has been ahead of us. [39:55]
• Darkness has already lost – John’s Gospel speaks of light’s victory in past tense. This reframes our waiting: we do not wait to see if light will win; we wait to see how its victory will unfold. Hope becomes steady when anchored to what God has already secured in Christ. [41:44]
• Sacraments point to coming Light – Bread and cup are signs that carry promise before fulfillment, training us to recognize God’s pattern. We receive them not to escape ordinary life, but to see God’s light within it. The table shapes us into people who can spot dawn in the dark. [47:52]

Questions for Reflection

Name one small, ordinary sign of God’s light you have noticed in the last month. How did you respond, and how might you pay closer attention to signs like that going forward?

Where do you keep the “curtains closed” in your life (habits, fears, routines that keep you from noticing God)? What is one concrete step you can take this week to open a curtain and step into the light? (eg. go for a walk at dawn, tell a friend a need, open your calendar for a conversation)

Think of a current waiting or hard situation you are in. How would claiming that “the darkness has not overcome” change one practical choice you make this week—your prayer, a conversation, or a small act of faith?

Who is someone you could be a timely encouragement to this week—a person God might use as a sign to someone else? What will you say or do, and when will you do it?