Introduction
Are you entering this Christmas season hoping in things that can’t actually hold you up, busy schedules, perfect moments, gifts, traditions, or a “better year”, or are you anchored in a hope that will not fail? Advent trains me to slow down and prepare my heart by fixing my eyes on Jesus, because biblical hope is not a fragile wish but a confident expectation grounded in God’s promises and fulfilled in Christ.
Advent simply means “coming.” Historically, the church has used these weeks before Christmas to stop, reflect, worship, and remember the substance behind the shadows, behind the lights, music, decorations, and nostalgia. Those are good gifts, but they’re not the foundation. Without intentional focus, the season’s meaning gets swallowed by distraction, stress, and even regret, what can feel like a “Christmas hangover” afterward. So I want to disciple you through this question: What are you hoping for? Not just what’s on the list, but what your heart is leaning on for joy, security, and life.
Main Points
Are you entering this Christmas season hoping in things that can’t actually hold you up, busy schedules, perfect moments, gifts, traditions, or a “better year”, or are you anchored in a hope that will not fail? Advent trains me to slow down and prepare my heart by fixing my eyes on Jesus, because biblical hope is not a fragile wish but a confident expectation grounded in God’s promises and fulfilled in Christ.
Advent simply means “coming.” Historically, the church has used these weeks before Christmas to stop, reflect, worship, and remember the substance behind the shadows, behind the lights, music, decorations, and nostalgia. Those are good gifts, but they’re not the foundation. Without intentional focus, the season’s meaning gets swallowed by distraction, stress, and even regret, what can feel like a “Christmas hangover” afterward.
So I want to disciple you through this question: What are you hoping for? Not just what’s on the list, but what your heart is leaning on for joy, security, and life.
Redefining Hope Beyond Wishful Thinking
When I say “hope,” I don’t mean what the world often means: “I hope my team wins,” “I hope things work out,” “I hope I get what I want.” That kind of hope is uncertain. Even confident speeches and strong optimism can’t guarantee outcomes in a broken world.
Scripture describes something deeper. Paul models it when he’s imprisoned and facing real threats, chains, opposition, and the possibility of death, yet he speaks with clarity and steadiness:
- Philippians 1:18–20 shows Paul rejoicing and describing his “eager expectation and hope” that he “will not be ashamed,” and that Christ will be honored in his body “whether by life or by death.”
That’s not a flimsy desire. It’s a settled confidence. Paul’s hope is inseparable from faith, trusting God’s character and promises even when circumstances look dark.
And I want you to notice why this matters: hope isn’t optional. If hope dies, anger, anxiety, despair, and resignation rush in. Even culturally, Christmas can intensify loneliness, depression, and grief. So we don’t minimize pain, we bring pain to the only hope that can carry it.
Advent Begins In The Prison Cell
Dietrich Bonhoeffer said a prison cell, where you wait, hope, and depend on the door being opened from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent.
That’s the story of Scripture. Humanity sits in a prison of our own making. Israel, though given God’s good gifts, repeatedly rebelled and spiraled into darkness, corrupted politics, hollow religion, hypocrisy (echoed across the prophets like Isaiah). Yet God promised: a King is coming; a Deliverer is coming; the Messiah will come in the flesh.
Advent reminds me that we don’t rescue ourselves by willpower, wealth, or seasonal magic. God enters the story. He comes for us. That’s why Christmas is not sentimental, it’s salvation.
Hope Anchored In God’s Courtroom Verdict
Paul’s confidence in Philippians 1 is tied to “deliverance”, a word closely connected to salvation. There’s debate about whether Paul expects deliverance from prison or ultimate deliverance in eternity, but the strength of his words allows both:
- God may deliver him now,
- and God will certainly deliver him finally, vindicating him, not letting him be put to shame, standing with him in the ultimate court of heaven.
This is the kind of hope Scripture describes elsewhere: hope as an anchor secured behind the veil in God’s presence (implied from Hebrews 6). My circumstances can shift violently; my feelings can surge and crash; but if my anchor is in God Himself, I’m held.
So when you feel overwhelmed this season, grief returning, family strain intensifying, finances tightening, I want to train you to ask: What is my soul anchored to right now?
Our Heavenly Citizenship Reorders Everything
Now we come to the first major “anchor” for hope from our main Advent text:
“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” , Philippians 3:20
Paul contrasts two mindsets: those whose minds are set on earthly things, greed, appetite, self, versus those who live from another kingdom. He even warns about people whose “god is their belly” and whose end is destruction (the immediate context before Philippians 3:20).
To be “heavenly minded” is not to escape earthly responsibility; it’s the only way to do lasting earthly good. Earthly-minded living is futile, especially when Christmas tempts us toward I want, I want, I want.
Paul’s illustration would have landed powerfully in Philippi because Philippi was a Roman colony, a kind of “little Rome.” They understood citizenship, privilege, and identity. Paul is saying: Christians are an outpost of heaven on earth. You live in this place, but your deepest allegiance, values, and culture come from somewhere else.
This creates tension, like having dual loyalties, but it’s a holy tension. I don’t pretend I’m unaffected by earthly cultures; I feel their pull. Yet my hope isn’t finally located in any earthly system, comfort, or success. My hope is rooted in belonging to Christ’s kingdom.
Practically, I want you to ask during Advent:
- Does my calendar show that I’m a citizen of heaven?
- Does my spending show that I’m a citizen of heaven?
- Do my anxieties reveal an earthly mindset, or a heavenly one?
- Am I bringing the “DNA” of God’s kingdom (His values, His ways) into my home, work, and relationships?
Awaiting Jesus Shapes My Present Life
Philippians 3:20 doesn’t just say we have heavenly citizenship, it says, “from it we await a Savior.”
Advent is training for waiting. Not passive waiting, but watchful waiting, steady, faithful, and hopeful. I want you to see that Paul’s hope is not merely that things get easier; his hope is that Jesus is coming, and that reality rearranges life right now.
So I disciple you to wait like this:
- I simplify where I can, because my hope isn’t in “more.”
- I repent quickly, because I’m preparing to meet my King.
- I endure hardship with courage, because my story is not trapped in this moment.
- I honor Christ in my body “whether by life or by death” (Philippians 1:20), because my future is secure.
This is how Advent gives substance to the season: it teaches me to long for Christ more than I long for the season to “go well.”
Christ Will Transform What Is Lowly
Paul continues:
“[Jesus] will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.” , Philippians 3:21
This is not abstract theology. This is hope for real human weakness, aging, sickness, exhaustion, grief, disability, and the felt limits of our lives. Paul says the coming Savior will not only forgive; He will transform. And He has the power to do it because He will subject all things to Himself.
So when you feel the futility of trying to control what is beyond you, and you’re tempted to despair, I want you to lift your eyes: the end of your story is not decline, loss, or decay. In Christ, the end is glory.
That doesn’t erase today’s pain. But it anchors today’s pain in tomorrow’s certainty.
Conclusion
Advent calls me to stop and ask, “What am I hoping for?” If my hope is anchored to gifts, outcomes, comfort, or control, it will eventually disappoint me and make my heart sick. But if my hope is anchored in Christ, His promises, His salvation, His coming kingdom, then I can face even hard seasons with steady courage.
Paul in prison teaches us that biblical hope is not denial; it’s confidence. It is an eager expectation that God will not abandon His people, that Christ will be honored, that our true citizenship is in heaven, and that Jesus is coming to transform what is lowly and subject all things to Himself.
So I’m inviting you to practice Advent this week: slow down, look past the shadows, and fix your heart on the substance, Jesus Christ, who has come and will come again.
Lord Jesus, thank You for meeting us in a broken and distracted world. Thank You that Advent reminds us You came in the flesh and that we are still awaiting Your coming again. Forgive us for placing our hopes in things that cannot satisfy or sustain us. Anchor our hearts in Your promises, and help us live as citizens of heaven, bringing Your kingdom culture into our homes, our work, our relationships, and our spending.
For those who feel lonely, depressed, anxious, or full of grief this season, draw near with comfort and real hope. Give us the same eager expectation Paul had, that we will not be put to shame, and that You will be honored in our bodies whether by life or by death. Strengthen our faith, deepen our longing for You, and fill us with joy that is rooted in Your salvation.
We await You, our Savior. We trust Your power to transform what is lowly and to subject all things to Yourself. In Your name we pray, amen.
Conclusion
Advent calls me to stop and ask, “What am I hoping for?” If my hope is anchored to gifts, outcomes, comfort, or control, it will eventually disappoint me and make my heart sick. But if my hope is anchored in Christ, His promises, His salvation, His coming kingdom, then I can face even hard seasons with steady courage.
Paul in prison teaches us that biblical hope is not denial; it’s confidence. It is an eager expectation that God will not abandon His people, that Christ will be honored, that our true citizenship is in heaven, and that Jesus is coming to transform what is lowly and subject all things to Himself.
So I’m inviting you to practice Advent this week: slow down, look past the shadows, and fix your heart on the substance, Jesus Christ, who has come and will come again.
Closing Prayer
Lord Jesus, thank You for meeting us in a broken and distracted world. Thank You that Advent reminds us You came in the flesh and that we are still awaiting Your coming again. Forgive us for placing our hopes in things that cannot satisfy or sustain us. Anchor our hearts in Your promises, and help us live as citizens of heaven, bringing Your kingdom culture into our homes, our work, our relationships, and our spending.
For those who feel lonely, depressed, anxious, or full of grief this season, draw near with comfort and real hope. Give us the same eager expectation Paul had, that we will not be put to shame, and that You will be honored in our bodies whether by life or by death. Strengthen our faith, deepen our longing for You, and fill us with joy that is rooted in Your salvation.
We await You, our Savior. We trust Your power to transform what is lowly and to subject all things to Yourself. In Your name we pray, amen.