Making Space for the Dream — Advent 2

Texts:  Isaiah 11:1-10 and Matthew 3:1-12

Advent is often described as a season of waiting. But the kind of waiting we practice isn’t about crossing off days or just hoping something good will eventually happen. Advent is about expectant waiting—a kind of waiting that is active, messy, deeply human, and rooted in real hope.

Maybe the best way to picture it is like expectant parents. They’re excited, yes, but also anxious and sometimes overwhelmed by all they don’t know. They read books, prepare the nursery, make lists—but they can never really be “ready.” When the big moment arrives, there will be chaos, surprise, and plenty of improvising. The point isn’t to control the future, but to make space for what’s already unfolding, and to be willing to welcome new life as it comes.

That’s the invitation of Advent.

Isaiah gives us a startling image:

A dead stump. Something that looks finished, forgotten, beyond hope. But Isaiah says, “Look again.” There, in what’s left for dead, a green shoot is pushing through. God’s Dream—the hope for real change, justice, and healing—keeps showing up in the overlooked, the broken, the places everyone else has written off. Not in the centers of power, not in the polished or managed corners of life, but right in the mess and the margins.

Isaiah’s vision isn’t just survival; it’s transformation. Wolves and lambs share a pasture. Children play near what once was dangerous. It’s a world turned upside down—not because everyone’s the same, but because something new is possible: peace, trust, the birth of something beautiful right in the middle of what feels impossible. Isaiah’s hope doesn’t deny the world as it is—it transforms it, by God’s presence with us.

Enter John the Baptist, calling out from the wilderness.

He isn’t at the temple. He’s not running a committee. He’s out in the wild places, reminding us that God so often breaks in, not in our carefully curated routines, but right in the unpredictability of daily life.

John doesn’t shame anyone for being human. His call is simple:

“Don’t just sit there. Don’t settle for the way things have always been. Be open to change. Make space for God’s Dream, here and now, in your real life.”

He’s not interested in rituals for their own sake. He wants to see hope made real in our actions, our relationships, our willingness to risk something new. We all have our own “stumps”—places in life where we feel stuck, exhausted, or ready to give up. John’s message? Don’t write those places off. Stay open to surprise.

So what does this mean for us, right now?

It means Advent isn’t about getting it all right, or fixing ourselves, or waiting until everything feels safe and certain. It’s about preparing—making space for hope, for healing, for newness, even if it feels inconvenient, uncomfortable, or incomplete.

• Where are the stumps in your life—places you’re tempted to write off, but where new growth could surprise you?

• What old fears or assumptions are you being nudged to question or release?

• What would it look like to make space for God’s Dream to grow, even in the messiness of ordinary life?

Advent is for real life, not perfect life. It’s about showing up, making space, and trusting that God’s Dream is already at work—quietly, persistently, in the midst of it all. Our part is simply to notice, to welcome, and to be open to joining in.

May you find courage to make space for God’s Dream this Advent, and discover new growth where you least expect it.