Why Are We Here? Discovering the True Purpose of Advent

There's a question that echoes through the corridors of our lives, sometimes whispered in quiet moments, sometimes shouted in times of crisis: "What am I doing here?"

It's the question we ask when we're standing in a church service on a Sunday morning, when we're caught in the mundane routines of daily life, or when we're searching for meaning in a world that often feels chaotic and uncertain. It's a profound question, and one that deserves a profound answer.

The Question Jesus Asked

In the Gospel of Matthew, we encounter Jesus posing a similar question to John's disciples. He asks them pointedly: "What did you go out into the wilderness to see?" It's not a casual inquiry. Jesus is pushing them—and us—to examine our motivations and expectations.

Did they go to see a reed swayed by the wind? Something completely ordinary that they could witness anywhere? Did they venture out to see someone dressed in fine clothes, the kind of person you'd find in palaces and places of luxury?

The answer, of course, is no. They went for something extraordinary. They went for a prophet, yes, but even more than that—they went for the one who would prepare the way for the Messiah himself.

Mistaking the Outcome for the Reason

We can fall into a similar trap when it comes to church and faith. The community we find there is beautiful and life-giving. The love we experience through fellowship can be genuinely transformative. The support systems, the shared meals, the sense of belonging—these are all wonderful outcomes of gathering together.

But here's the crucial distinction: these are outcomes, not the reason.

We don't come to church primarily for community, though we find it there. We don't come primarily for the love we can share with one another, though that love is real and powerful. We come for something truly other, something that cannot be found at the community center or the poetry reading or the concert hall.

We come to encounter Christ.

Think about it this way: if you see people waiting at a bus stop, you know what they're expecting. They're not there for the scenery or the company of fellow waiters. They're there because a bus is coming, and they need to be on it.

In the same way, we gather because we're expecting something—Someone—who will change everything.

A God Who Came Low

As we hurtle toward Christmas Day (and yes, during Advent, "hurtling" feels like exactly the right word), we're reminded of the astonishing nature of our faith. Our Savior didn't arrive in a palace or a mansion. He wasn't born into wealth or power or privilege.

He came in a manger, in a stable, among the animals and the straw.

This is the God we serve—one who loves us so profoundly that He was willing to come among us in the flesh. To feel our pain. To know our grief. To carry our hurt. To cry with us and sob with us. A God who came low so that we could be lifted up and joined with Him.

This is why we're here. Not for the trappings or the traditions, as meaningful as they may be, but for the Person at the center of it all.

The Promise of Isaiah

The prophet Isaiah painted a breathtaking picture of what awaits us—a vision of the kingdom that should make our hearts leap:

"The desert and the parched land will be glad. The wilderness will rejoice and blossom... Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way. Say to those with fearful hearts, 'Be strong, do not fear; your God will come.' Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy. Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert."

This isn't just poetic language. This is the promise of restoration, of healing, of everything being made right. This is what we're waiting for. This is what John the Baptist pointed toward. This is what Advent is all about.

We Are Called to Be Prophets

John the Baptist was a prophet, preparing the way for Christ. But here's the remarkable truth: we are also called to be prophets. Not in the sense of predicting the future, but in speaking truth to power, standing against injustice, and pointing others toward the One who saves.

We can support each other, encourage each other, and build each other up. These are good and necessary things. But we cannot save one another. We can only point to the One who can.

The prophets of old—Amos, Isaiah, John the Baptist—they could warn and teach and prepare, but they couldn't save. Only Christ can do that. And that's precisely why we gather, why we worship, why we keep showing up even when life is hard and faith feels distant.

Living as Prophets in the World

So what does this look like in practice? How do we live as prophets in our everyday lives?

It means recognizing those moments when the kingdom breaks through—when we see the hungry fed, the homeless given shelter, when we feel conviction in our hearts that the suffering we see in the world is not how things are meant to be.

It means carrying that conviction into our workplaces, our coffee mornings, our interactions at the shops during the frantic Christmas rush. It means choosing kindness on the roundabout, patience in the checkout line, and compassion for the difficult neighbor.

It means being people who point toward something greater, something other, something that the world desperately needs but cannot produce on its own.

The Heart of Advent

As we move through this Advent season, the question remains: Why are we here?

We are here because we are loved by a God who sent His Son for us. We are here because the kingdom Isaiah foretold is real and coming and already breaking into our world. We are here because Jesus came first and did the work so that we can be reunited with Him.

The warm feelings we get when we sing carols, the joy we experience at the top of a Christmas tree, the inexplicable sense that there's something more—these aren't just sentiments. They're glimpses of the kingdom, reminders that we were made for something greater than what this world offers.

So strengthen your feeble hands. Steady your knees that give way. If your heart is fearful, be strong and do not fear. Your God will come. He has come. And He is coming again.

That's why we're here.