The beauty of Advent is that it pulls us gently into a rhythm our world rarely invites: waiting. Not passive, weary waiting… but hopeful waiting. The kind that trains the heart to stay awake, alert, and ready for the One who draws near.

Today, we light the first candle of the Advent wreath: Hope.

This small flame flickers against the darkness, reminding us that even the tiniest glimmer of God’s promise is stronger than the deepest night. Hope is never naïve for the Christian woman – it’s an act of courage, a spiritual posture, and a declaration that God is who He says He is.

The Hope That Comes Before Fulfillment

Advent begins in quiet longing.

Israel waited centuries for the Messiah. Mary waited nine hidden months with Jesus beneath her heart. The early Church waited with eyes lifted toward heaven. And now, we wait – both for Christ’s return and for all the places where we still need Him to come into our lives.

But here is the truth we forget:

Hope isn’t something we muster.

Hope is Someone we encounter.

When we speak of hope during Advent, we aren’t talking about optimism or positive thinking. We’re talking about Christ Himself, the Hope that took on flesh and walked among us.

As St. Paul writes:

“Christ Jesus our hope.” – 1 Timothy 1:1

Hope has a name.

Hope has a heartbeat.

Hope has a face.

And He steps toward us long before we step toward Him.

Why the First Candle Matters

The first candle is traditionally called the Prophets’ Candle or the Candle of Hope. It recalls the words spoken long before Bethlehem – the promises whispered to a weary people:

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” – Isaiah 9:2

Lighting this candle is a reminder that God always keeps His promises, even if the timing isn’t what we expected. Hope is the first flame because it reignites the entire season. Without hope, faith grows thin. But with hope, everything starts to breathe again.

Advent hope is not fragile.

It is steady, rooted, confident.

It’s hope that says:

“Even here… Christ can come.”

“Even now… God is working.”

“Even in the waiting… I am held.”

Hope for the Catholic Woman Today

Maybe you enter Advent feeling tired or stretched thin.

Maybe your prayers feel unanswered.

Maybe your story feels unfinished.

Sister, Advent is for you.

God is not asking you to feel hopeful – He is asking you to make room for Him to fill you with hope.

Hope only becomes real when we dare to bring God the places we’re tempted to hide, numb, or self-protect. Hope begins when we tell Him the truth:

“Lord, I don’t see the way forward.”

“I’m afraid of being disappointed again.”

“I long for healing, for clarity, for peace.”

“I want to trust You – but I’m struggling.”

This is the good news:

He comes anyway.

Not because our hope is strong,

but because His love is.

A Marian Moment: What Mary Teaches Us About Hope

Mary embodies the essence of Advent hope – not because she understood everything God was doing, but because she trusted the One doing it.

She didn’t wait with anxiety.

She waited with receptivity.

She let God fill the spaces she could not control.

And she shows us that hope is not loud or dramatic.

Hope is quiet.

Hope is steady.

Hope says, “Let it be done unto me.”

May we grow in this Marian kind of hope – open, surrendered, confident in God’s goodness.

A Simple Advent Practice for This Week

Each morning this week, pray:

“Jesus, awaken hope in me again.”

Then name one area of your life where you are waiting for Christ to come:

• A relationship

• A fear

• A desire

• A wound

• A prayer you’ve prayed for years

• A part of your identity that needs healing

Let Him enter it.

Let Him be Hope for you.

You could also pray the St. Andrew’s Novena leading up to Christmas.

Journaling Prompts

1. Where do I feel most in need of hope right now?
2. What promises of God do I struggle to trust?
3. What would it look like to wait not with anxiety, but with expectancy?
4. Where might Jesus be inviting me to surrender control this Advent?
5. How can Mary’s “Let it be done unto me” shape my heart this week?

Closing Prayer

Jesus,

Light of the World,

today we welcome You again into our waiting.

Kindle in us the flame of hope.

Remind us that the darkness is never too deep for Your light to reach.

Give us Mary’s trusting heart, Isaiah’s courage, and the Church’s longing expectation.

Teach us to wait – not with fear, but with holy anticipation – for all the places where You are coming anew.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Our Hope. Our Promise. Our peace in the waiting.

Amen.