Lord, Prepare my Heart

Advent enters its second week not with noise, but with a deeper, more penetrating silence. The candle that burns today is not merely a symbol of time passing, it is a gentle light that reveals what still lies hidden within us. The readings invite us, almost quietly, to look inward with honesty. Isaiah begins with an image that touches the wounded places in our hearts: a shoot growing from the stump of Jesse. A stump is something cut down, something that appears dead or finished. Yet from such a place, God says, life can spring again. It is His way of reminding us that nothing in our lives is too ruined, too broken, or too exhausted for His grace to revive. Each of us carries a stump somewhere, the remnants of a hurt, a failed attempt, a hope that has faded, or faith that has grown weak. And to each of us, God gently whispers: “Life can begin again.”

And so, as the second candle burns, we allow its quiet light to rest on our hearts. We let it illuminate the wounds that need healing, the habits that need changing, the relationships that need softening, and the hopes that need renewing. We let it remind us that Christ comes not into perfection, but into honest hearts, hearts willing to be reshaped, reopened, and revived.

May this week of Advent become a gentle invitation to say: “Lord, prepare my heart. Heal what is wounded. Renew what is tired. Burn away what is harmful. And let new life grow where I thought life was impossible.”

This is the quiet, beautiful work of Advent, making room within us for Christ to come. Amen.