Advent Week One: Holding Fast to Hope

Hope comes from knowing and being KNOWN.

Before Advent ever whispers peace into our bones, it begins with hope. Not flickering hope but the remembering kind that is rooted in who God is and how he has always made himself known.

For me, the first week of Advent is an invitation to pause and reflect on the first seven names in the KNOWN devotional and how they demonstrate his faithful character. Each name is a doorway, a reminder, a promise already proven.

Abba — the doorway to all the others. Hope begins when we remember that the God of the universe invites us to come close, to belong, to be known without fear. Hope is born in the arms of a Father who claims us as his own.

Creator — the One who knit us together, cell by cell, thought by thought. Hope grows when we remember that the One who formed us understands us better than we understand ourselves. Nothing about our story is accidental or catches him off guard.

El Roi — the God who sees. Hope steadies us when we remember that we are never invisible, never overlooked. He sees the circumstances we can’t name yet. He sees the tears we hide. And his seeing is never passive.

Jehovah Jireh — the Lord who sees in order to provide. Hope deepens here, at the intersection where what God sees joins with his nature to provide. He has already gone ahead of us. His provision may not look like what we expected, but it will arrive exactly when it should and as it should, transforming us.

Jehovah Nissi — the Lord who is our banner. Hope holds firm when the truth he declares over our lives speaks louder than the lies that rise around us. His banner doesn’t shift with the battle, accusations (true or false), allegiances, family drama, or our emotions; it stands, steady and sure.

Emmanuel — God with us. Hope swells as we remember that he came to fulfill his own promises. Not from afar, but by entering our world, our ache, our waiting. He is the God who fulfills the covenant by becoming the covenant-keeper in flesh. By his own power, he made the covenant, kept Israel in it, and finally fulfilled it.

The Potter — the One who shapes us with intention. Hope stays alive when we trust the hands that form us. We are not being crushed; we are being crafted. His touch is steady, patient, and intentionally shaping us into the image of Christ.

This is the beauty of Hope in Advent: It returns us to the quiet, daily practice of claiming who God is even before we see what he will do. As the Psalmists teach us, it is the practice of looking back so we can look forward with expectation.

When we light the first candle, may its flicker remind us: Our hope is not in a delicate flame but an all-consuming God.