Time flies. If you're in your twenties or thirties, you might not fully appreciate this yet. But ask anyone over fifty, and they'll tell you: the older you get, the faster time seems to move. What felt like an eternity as a seven-year-old now feels like the blink of an eye. And suddenly, here we are again—the first Sunday of Advent, the beginning of another Christmas season.
If you're feeling like 2025 has been a bullet train racing past, here's an invitation: make a turn. Let your mind and heart settle and truly enjoy this season. Even if your schedule remains chaotic, you can cultivate a heart posture of rest—of simply being in Him. Because if we just stand in shock at how fast life moves, we'll miss something beautiful and precious about this season.
The word "Advent" simply means the arrival of a notable person, event, or thing. You might hear about "the advent of television" or "the advent of the personal computer"—referring to when these things first appeared. Sometimes it refers to something even bigger: "the advent of a new era."
For Christians, Advent refers to the coming of Messiah—the arrival the Jewish people had waited for throughout all of history. In the Christian calendar, Advent encompasses the four Sundays before Christmas. It's a season of preparation and anticipation as we celebrate Christ's birth.
But Advent is about more than just the historical moment of Jesus' birth. It's about the anticipation of His arrival. There's something powerful about waiting. Yes, waiting can be awkward, even painful—like a four-year-old sitting by the door on a snowy day, worried friends won't make it to the birthday party. But something profound happens when we wait, when we anticipate, when we expect.
That's what Advent invites us into: anticipating the celebration of Jesus' coming.
Most Advent series take us to Luke chapters 1 and 2—where we find the famous Christmas story elements. Gabriel appears to Mary. Joseph and Mary travel to Bethlehem for a census. Angels announce the Messiah's birth to shepherds. It's the narrative we know best.
Some years, we explore Matthew chapter 1, which gives us more of Joseph's story and introduces the Magi traveling from the east to worship the newborn king.
Other years, we've examined Isaiah's prophecies about who the Messiah would be, what He would look like, the titles He would bear.
But this year, we're going somewhere different: the book of John.
John definitely announces Messiah's arrival—he just doesn't do it in narrative form like Matthew or Luke. He does it through poetry. And in his rich, profound prose, we discover beautiful truths about who Jesus is and what He brings to us.
John's Gospel opens with a magnificent poem in chapter 1, verses 1-18. This isn't your typical Christmas story with shepherds and angels. Instead, it's a theological masterpiece that reaches back before creation and forward into eternity.
Here's the outline for this Advent series, all from John 1:
Today, we're focusing on verses 3 and 4: "All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men."
With the coming of Jesus comes the coming of life. Specifically, Jesus is the creator of life, the definer of life, and the giver of life.
Notice how John begins his Gospel: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." (John 1:1)
Sound familiar? It should. It's a direct echo of Genesis 1:1: "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth."
John wants us to understand that everything created in Genesis—everything that has ever been created—was created through Christ. Verse 3 declares: "All things were made through him."
Imagine this scenario: You've gone through something incredibly difficult—a relationship crisis, financial hardship, health struggle, whatever it might be. Throughout that dark season, a particular song carried you through. Every time you turned on the radio, that song seemed to play. When you prayed, those lyrics came to mind. God used that song to minister to you in your darkest moments.
Now imagine you're on vacation, and somehow you end up in conversation with a stranger. (Introverts, stay with me here.) The conversation turns to that song, and the person says, "You're not going to believe this, but I actually wrote that song."
You'd be stunned. What are the chances? Out of eight billion people on this planet, you're talking to the very person who created the song that sustained you through your hardest days.
After the shock wore off, you'd gush with gratitude. You'd tell them how much that song meant to you, how God used it. You'd feel humbled yet bursting with awe.
Now consider this: John is telling us that Jesus didn't just create your favorite song. He created everything. Even life itself.
How much more does He deserve our gush, our thanks, our praise?
John anticipates our questions. Notice the second half of verse 3: "And without him was not any thing made that was made."
In clearer English: nothing was made without Christ. Literally nothing.
Every mountain. Every water molecule. Every star. Every planet. Color. Music. Fire. Platypuses. And yes, even mosquitoes—all created by Christ.
Some religions, cults, and skeptics argue that Jesus didn't actually create these things but that the Father created them through Jesus. But the Greek word here is extremely flexible. It can be translated "through," but it can also be translated "by," "with," "on account of," or "by means of."
Whether your Bible says things were created through Jesus or by Jesus, both are correct. He is the creator.
Think about artistic creation. When an artist creates something—a song, a painting, a piece of writing—there's often this sense of divine flow. God working through them to create something, yet it's undeniably created by them. Both are true.
All things were made through Christ, by Christ, including life. Jesus is the creator of life.
But John doesn't want us merely to marvel at Jesus the artist-creator. He takes us deeper. Look at the beginning of verse 4: "In him was life."
This echoes something John writes in his first letter: "God is love." (1 John 4:8)
Not that love comes from God (though that's true). Not that love was created by God (though you could argue that). But that God is love—the very definition, the embodiment of it.
If you could somehow capture God in an image (which is impossible) and place it next to the dictionary definition of "love," God's image would burst forth off the page. Because He is the definition of love itself.
Similarly, John wants us to realize: God is life. In Him was life. He is the very definition and embodiment of it.
So if you want to know how life should be lived? Look at Jesus.
Want a full, meaningful life? Get to know Christ.
Because in Him was life.
Unfortunately, many of us think about life only in physical terms. We live in a physical world, so it's natural. Yes, Jesus created the physical world—physical trees with physical roots, physical whales swimming in physical oceans, physical humans with physical lungs breathing physical air.
We are physical beings. But we're so much more than arms, legs, lungs, kidneys, and earlobes. We also have will. Personality. Intellect. We have a spiritual life.
When God created Adam, Scripture says God "breathed into him." It's more than just physical air entering physical lungs. God breathed life into Adam's soul.
Adam was physically alive and spiritually alive. But God warned him: if he ate the forbidden fruit, he would die.
When Adam and Eve ate that fruit, God mercifully didn't kill them physically in that moment. Instead, they began the long, slow descent toward physical death. Everything began to decay. Rather than living eternally with God on this planet, they would eventually die.
But I believe God's word came true immediately in another way: on the day they ate that fruit, they died spiritually.
We see evidence of this spiritual death immediately:
They'd left the definition of life—God the creator who said, "Here's how to live"—and went contrary to it. They died spiritually.
Every single person since has been born physically alive but spiritually dead.
But here's the good news John wants us to hear: Jesus is not just the creator and definer of life. He is also the giver of life.
The last phrase of verse 4 says: "In him was life, and the life was the light of men."
In John's day, there was no electricity—no light bulbs, flashlights, or smartphone flashlights. Once the sun set, the only way to have light was through an oil lamp. You'd fill the lamp with oil, place a wick in it, and as the wick soaked up the oil, you'd light it and have light.
But if the oil went dry, the wick would burn up and the lamp would die. The only way to resurrect your lamp was to refill it with oil, put in a new wick, let it soak up that oil, and relight it.
When Adam and Eve sinned, the spiritual wick went dark. They died.
But Jesus came to give life, and that life was the light of men.
One commentator noted this phrase alludes to Psalm 36:9: "For with you is the fountain of life; in your light do we see light."
Give yourself to that life, and the light comes and shines within you.
This is why Jesus defines Himself as "the resurrection and the life." He says, "I am the way, the truth, and the life." He defines it, which is what allows Him to give it.
Years ago, when I worked as a young adult pastor, a couple in our church asked me to pray for their three adult children—none of whom loved Jesus. Over eight years, I had the joy of seeing two of their sons come back to Jesus. (One tragically died in a car accident.)
Stephen had walked away from the Lord around high school. He wanted nothing to do with his parents' faith or church. After graduation, he decided that what mattered most was beer and women. That became his life.
He could barely keep a job because he'd oversleep from hangovers and get fired, moving from restaurant to restaurant. He was living for what the world said would give him a great life.
Over time, Stephen discovered what King Solomon concluded in Ecclesiastes: these things are meaningless. They don't deliver the joy and satisfaction they promise.
Finally, Stephen hit rock bottom, and something awakened in him: Maybe my mom and dad were right.
Stephen came back to the Lord. And when he did, God gave Stephen life. This man began to exude joy. He became an incredible influence for Christ in our church. Today, Stephen and his wife are on the mission field, helping others find life in Christ.
Jesus is a life-giver. Not just "the life of the party"—He's truly a giver of life. Not just physical life, but true life. Spiritual life.
Later in his poem, John returns to this theme. Verses 12-13 say: "But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God."
People are born physically alive—born of blood, by the will of flesh, sometimes by the will of man (planned and wanted). But Jesus came to give us more than physical life. He came to give us spiritual life—to help us become children of God, to be born again.
But notice the key phrase in verse 12: "But to all who did receive him."
This leads to the essential question: Have you received Him?
Have you received the creator, the definer, and the giver of life?
If you've never given your life to Jesus, today could be your spiritual birthday. Today could be the day you give your life to the One who gave His life for you.
Let the creator of true life create something new in you. Let the One who defines life itself begin to define how you should live. Let the One who gives spiritual life come in and fundamentally change you—like Stephen and countless others who have experienced this transformation.
Many people, when they realize the truth of the gospel, find themselves gushing. They're humbled and broken in a good way. They confess their sin, give it all to Him, and declare: "I want to live for You."
But maybe you've already received Christ, yet you're not living surrendered to Him. Jesus said He came to give life and give it abundantly (John 10:10). But you don't feel like you're living abundantly. You're just trying to make it through each day.
Maybe that's because you're not surrendering. You're still living for yourself. Maybe anger gets in the way. Or lust. Or greed. Or desire for comfort. Or something else.
Is there something you're not giving over to the Lord that's keeping you from fully receiving Him and experiencing the abundant life He offers?
Jesus isn't sitting on His throne in heaven wagging His finger at you, telling you to act better. He's there with His arms wide open, inviting you to come into His embrace. He's inviting you to let Him—the creator of life—help redefine the life He's calling you to.
This Advent season, as we anticipate the arrival of Christ, take time to sit before His throne of grace and simply be in awe of Him. Be the kind of person who gushes about His goodness, His grace, this gift of salvation, His Holy Spirit, His presence—everything about who He is and what He's done.
Jesus went to the cross to pay the penalty for sin that we couldn't pay ourselves. He allowed His body to be broken and His blood to be shed because of His deep love for us. He did this so we could be rescued from spiritual darkness and brought into spiritual light—so we could come out of spiritual death and be resurrected into spiritual life.
He breathed His Holy Spirit into us so we could live the life He's always intended for us to live.
In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.
This Advent, receive the One who is life itself. Let the creator, definer, and giver of life transform you completely. Because the life He offers isn't just existence—it's abundance, joy, purpose, and eternal communion with God.
That's what Christmas is really about: the coming of Life into our world of death, bringing hope, transformation, and the promise of forever.
