Rejoice, the Lord is Near

As we steadily move into our third week of Advent, our hearts begin with hope, grow stronger in faith, and gently lead us toward the joy of knowing Jesus is near. In this third week of Advent, the atmosphere in the church shifts. The rose candle is lit, the priest wears the rose vestments, and the energy is shifting from one of reflection and hope to that of joy. He is coming. 

It’s the middle of December, life is busy, the to-do lists are long, and emotions can run high, but Gaudete Sunday (“rejoice” in Latin) reminds us that joy isn’t something we earn or create. It’s something God gives. It’s a gift that quietly grows in the heart of anyone who makes room for Him. The readings this Sunday don’t say rejoice, life is perfect and it will be easy. They basically say, rejoice because the Lord is near. 

Sometimes our joy comes as a special moment, a laugh, a memory, a warm conversation. But sometimes it’s quieter. It’s the peace you can’t explain that helps you through your current challenge. The strength you didn’t expect when the news you received wasn’t exactly what you had planned or hoped for. The hope that rises even when you can’t quite put your finger on it, but you feel a change coming.

Gaudete Sunday invites us to notice those small graces and hold onto them.

Maybe your heart isn’t overflowing with joy right now. That’s okay. This Sunday isn’t about forcing a feeling; it’s about opening a door. Even a small crack is enough for Jesus to begin working. This third week of Advent is like a gentle reminder that God is close. Closer than you think.

Try asking yourself: Where have I seen God’s goodness this week even if it is in tiny ways? What is weighing on my heart that I can hand over to Him? Where do I need the joy only Christ can give?

The joy of this Sunday isn’t loud or flashy. It’s more like that quiet moment when you finally sit down after a long day and realize you’re not alone. So I’ve been trying to notice the tiny graces—those little moments that feel like God slipping into the day: a conversation that warms me, a bit of unexpected peace, or just a sense that I’m being held even when life feels messy. It’s a sweet text from a friend wishing you well on your writing; or a door dash delivery of your favorite pie to celebrate your birthday; or a long overdue conversation with a sibling that went much better than you had anticipated. It’s that small spark of hope that shows up even when you weren’t looking for it.

So this next week try to notice the tiny graces, those little moments that feel like God slipping into the day: a conversation that warms your heart, a bit of unexpected peace, or just a sense that you are being held even when life feels messy.

I guess what I want to share with you all is this: Joy doesn’t have to be big to be real. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it’s gentle. But it’s still joy. And this Sunday, that’s more than enough for me.

Bonus song: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel