Glory in Zion
On the night the Messiah was born, the heavens burst open—heavy with the weight of glory. This was no soft shimmer of stars, but the crushing nearness of heaven itself invading the earth.
This reflection is the conclusion of “A Messianic Advent,” a series exploring the first songs of the Messiah’s coming through the words of those who waited — and still wait — for Israel’s redemption.
Heavy with the Weight of Glory
On the night the Messiah was born, the heavens burst open, heavy with the weight of glory.
This was no soft shimmer of stars, but the crushing nearness of heaven itself invading the earth.
No wonder the shepherds trembled.
An angel’s voice thundered through the hills: “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you.”
Before the shepherds could even blink, the sky erupted. A multitude of the heavenly host appeared all around them—soldiers of light declaring victory before the battle had even begun:
“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom His favor rests.”
In the biblical mind, to find favor in someone’s eyes is to be seen with affection—to be chosen, welcomed, embraced. In the birth of Messiah, the favor of God had come to rest again on his people through the covenant child.
The angels declared that the glory of the heavenly Zion had become the glory of the earthly Zion.
Heaven touched earth, and for one holy night, the two became one.
Heavy under the Weight of Transgression
Two thousand years later, we live beneath another kind of weight. Christmas calls us to joy, yet the world outside our doors trembles.
The earth, Isaiah said, “staggers like a drunkard… it sways like a hut in the wind; its transgression lies heavy upon it.” The same creation that once rang with angelic praise still groans under the weight of its rebellion.
We celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace, yet we are surrounded by wars and rumors of wars.
We light candles for hope while violence and hatred spread across continents like wildfire.
We hang lights in our homes while nations sit in darkness and call it progress.
Our carols rise through tears and experiences that are anything but joy-filled.
This is the heaviness of Advent: holding the weight of transgression in one hand and the weight of glory in the other. We live between what has been promised and what has not yet come to pass.
Heavy with the Hope of Zion
The songs of the messianic Advent are about the Messiah who was, is, and will yet be. The birth of Jesus, told through the voices of those who first received him, is not merely the story of a baby born to bring us some measure of personal comfort, peace, or joy.
These four faithful Jews standing at the opening of Luke’s gospel testify of a story that reached far beyond them, one that is still unfolding toward its finale. It’s a story that stretches into our day, yet remains unfinished.
God does not ask us to hold the full weight of his glory—we have not yet been remade to bear it.
Nor does he ask us to carry the weight of our transgression—the one seated at his right hand has already lowered himself to bear that burden for us.
Instead, I believe the advent of Messiah asks us to hold the weight of hope—a hope heavy with the glory of Zion. The songs of Zechariah, Mary, Simeon, and Anna remind us that Advent is a joyful, painful, forward-reaching ache before renewal.
We live between two Zions: one above, blazing with glory, and one below, desolate and longing for light.
But each declares what the angels above and the shepherds below experienced that holy night—
that heaven and earth will one day sing in unison,
and that God himself will dwell among his people forever.
The songs of the Messianic Advent still echo across the sanctuary of eternity, calling every heart to join the same refrain:
“Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth, shalom, on whom his favor rests.”
The covenant has been remembered, the promise made flesh, the consolation of Israel in motion, and the redemption of creation has begun.
May we too join the song of heaven. The king has been born, and in only a little while, the weight of glory will rest again in Zion.
Anna’s Witness | The Redemption of Jerusalem
The priesthood must have grown familiar with her presence. An old widow, maybe wrapped in shawls, her eyes bright with unspent fire.
This reflection is part 4 of “A Messianic Advent,” a series exploring the first songs of the Messiah’s coming through the songs and words of those who waited — and still wait — for Israel’s redemption.
Luke 2:37-38
She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying.
Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God
and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward
to the redemption of Jerusalem.
The Prophetess Who Refused to Leave
The priesthood must have grown familiar with her presence. An old widow, maybe wrapped in shawls, her eyes bright with unspent fire. Did they see her with reverence and respect like Deborah? Or did they assume she was drunk, like Hannah?
Anna, daughter of Phanuel, tribe of Asher—one of Israel’s lost tribes, scattered in exile—still waited, still prayed.
Luke tells us she was “very old,” that she had lived with her husband seven years and then remained a widow until the age of eighty-four. In truth, that is nearly all we are told. Luke devotes only a few verses to Anna, and she never even speaks. And yet he considers her presence essential to the birth narrative of Jesus. Why?
Anna’s actions assume a whole world of Scripture, memory, and Jewish expectation that Luke does not stop to explain—because he assumes his audience already knows it. That world is essential to understanding why Jesus was born at all. It is also a world many of us were never taught how to enter. It has taken me many years of study to learn how to imagine Anna’s story faithfully within first-century Judaism, and to place her hope where it belongs: within Israel’s long and faithful waiting for redemption.
Anna never abandoned her post: “She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying.”
Others came and went. But Anna stayed in the temple.
The prophets had promised that one day the Lord would return to Zion, that comfort would come to his people, that redemption would rise again from Jerusalem. Anna believed that glory would burst right through the eastern gate. She wanted to be there when it happened. So she waited.
Waiting as Worship
Waiting, to Anna, was not wasted time. It was worship. She had learned that the God of Israel fulfills his word in his time. The same God who brought Israel out of Egypt, who returned them from exile, would send his Redeemer. For Anna, waiting was an act of faithfulness. It was her way of keeping the lamp burning, of guarding hope when the night was long.
Then, one ordinary day, her waiting ended.
A young couple entered the temple with their infant son—too poor to afford a lamb, offering instead two turtledoves. The Spirit stirred, and Anna saw what very few could see: the Redeemer had come to his temple.
Simeon had just spoken his blessing when she approached. Her fasting turning to feasting in a heartbeat. She gave thanks to God and “spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.”
That phrase—the redemption of Jerusalem—was charged with prophetic meaning.
It echoed Isaiah 52:9: “The Lord has comforted His people; He has redeemed Jerusalem.”
It was the promise that God himself would return, restore his dwelling, and reign again from Zion.
A Hope that Looks Forward
Luke says Anna spoke of the child to all who were looking forward—the remnant within Israel who had not lost hope. My guess is their number was small. The remnant usually is. In what was probably a crowded, busy temple-complex, Anna recognized the baby Messiah because she had been looking forward.
She had studied and prayed; she had given her life to being a watcher on the walls, a guardian of the House of the Lord. Unlike Zechariah, who likely knew of her, Anna did not waver. She believed. She waited for the Lord to restore Jerusalem—and when she saw the child, she ran to spread the news.
It’s strange to me that our celebrations of Jesus’s birth is often the opposite of Anna’s. Where our messages are anchored in remembering the past—what already happened back in Bethlehem—Anna’s announcement is eschatological. She looked forward in this child to the dawn of Israel’s restoration and the beginning of the world’s renewal.
Today, Jerusalem still waits. Its stones and people still cry out for peace. The nations still rage, and creation still groans. Yet Anna’s testimony remains: the Redeemer has come once, and He will come again.
In his first coming, he entered his temple as a child; in his next, he will enter as King. The same eyes that looked up at Simeon in wonder will one day look upon Zion with great rejoicing. The same baby Anna beheld beside the pillars of the Temple will one day make her a pillar in his own.
Anna’s faith bridges those two horizons. Her witness reminds us that the story of salvation does not begin at the manger and end at the cross—it moves forward toward a coming kingdom.
The redemption she longed for was not merely for herself, but national restoration and cosmic renewal. This was the same hope the prophets foresaw:
the day when righteousness and peace would kiss,
when Torah would go forth from Zion,
when the nations would stream to Jerusalem to learn the ways of the Lord.
Advent Reflection: Waiting and Witness
Advent is about hope, joy, peace, and love. But it isn’t only those things. Advent is the spirit of Anna.
When the Messiah appeared, she testified to all who were already looking forward. In an instant, every year of patient waiting became prophetic witness.
In every generation, God raises up Annas—those who refuse to abandon their post, who intercede through long nights, who believe that the King of glory will return through the eastern gate. Anna’s story asks the question: do we have a faith that looks forward, too?
Anna’s story anchors our Advent in both patience and prophecy. She reminds us that worship is not only magnifying what God has done, but bearing witness to what He has promised yet to do.
The Redeemer has come—and the redemption of Jerusalem, and of the world, unfolds in His hands.
And so, as we light our Advent candles and trim our trees, Anna invites us to keep watch with her. To make our hearts a temple of waiting.
To pray for peace, to face the east, and to wait—
with Anna,
and with all creation,
for the final redemption.
This reflection is part of “A Messianic Advent,” a five-part series tracing the songs and voices surrounding the Messiah’s birth. Up next the conclusion to the series: Glory in Zion.
The Story of Shalom
In the beginning, when the world was wild and waste, when darkness covered the face of the deep, the spirit of God hovered over the waters and drew shalom out of chaos.
This is spoken-word liturgy, originally shared as a testimony at my church, December 2025.
Creation
In the beginning—
when the world was wild and waste,
and darkness covered the face of the deep—
the Spirit hovered over the waters,
and the voice of God drew shalom out of chaos.¹
In the ancient days—
when giants walked the land
and violence devoured man and beast—
God sent a flood to cleanse the blood-soaked earth.
The Spirit hovered once more over the waters,
and His favor rested on Noah.
As the offering rose from the mountain of curse,
God hung His shalom in the sky
like a banner of promise.²
Fathers
In the days of the Fathers— Abraham, Isaac, Jacob—
a promise followed the covenant family wherever they wandered:
blessing in the field, blessing in the womb;
thunder in the heavens, wrestling in the dust.
Yet the gospel of shalom glittered in the stars
and whispered in the sand.³
In the wilderness, Aaron the anointed one
lifted his face toward Israel and declared,
“Yahweh bless you and keep you;
Yahweh make His face shine upon you
and give you shalom.”²
To Israel God said,
“I will bless you… and I will give you shalom.”³
To them He promised,
*shalom in the land;
and shalom when you lie down
None will make you afraid.”⁴
He said,
“My presence will go with you,
and I will give you rest.”⁵
In the days of the holy tent,
He taught us through the shelamim—
the offering of peace—
that shalom is communion,
shalom is worship,
shalom is life in his presence.⁶
In the days of David,
he vowed a covenant of shalom,⁷
a promise stronger than exile,
wider than the wilderness.
Even the weary were told,
“You shall go to your fathers in shalom.”⁸
Seers
And in the days of the great seers,
they lifted their voices and cried of Messiah:
“He shall be called the Prince of Shalom.”⁹
“Of the increase of His shalom there will be no end.”¹⁰
They gazed toward the mountains and proclaimed,
“How beautiful upon the hills
are the feet of the one who brings good news,
who proclaims shalom in Zion…”¹¹
They lamented Israel’s rebellion:
“You cry ‘shalom, shalom’—
but there is no shalom.”¹²
Yet even in grief they foretold hope:
“Upon messiah will fall the chastisement
that brings us shalom.”¹³
God’s covenant of shalom shall not be removed.¹⁴
“You shall go out in joy
and be led forth in shalom.”¹⁵
They promised a Shepherd
who would stand and guard flock of Yahweh—
and He would be their shalom.¹⁶ ¹⁷
And in this place—
this land of war and desolation—
the Most High God declared,
“In this place I will give shalom.”¹⁸
In the days of the psalmists,
days of exile and insecurity, they sang:
“In shalom I will lie down and sleep,
for You alone make me dwell in safety.”¹⁹
“Yahweh will bless his people with shalom.”²⁰
“Seek shalom and pursue it,”*²¹ they sang.
“The meek will inherit the land
and delight in abundant shalom,”²² they sang.
“In the days of Messiah may shalom abound
till the moon is no more.”²³
“He will speak shalom to His people.”²⁴
“Righteousness and shalom shall kiss.”²⁵ “And great shalom have those who love Your Torah.”²⁶
Son
And then—
there was silence. Centuries of silence.
No seers. No songs.
No voice.
No shalom in Zion.
Until one night,
angels burst through the sky like radiant diamonds and declared,
“Glory to God in the highest, and shalom on the land
upon those on whom His favor rests.”³¹
A priest trembled in the temple as heaven broke in:
“Do not be afraid, Zechariah…
your son will prepare a people for Yahweh—
feet fitted with the gospel of shalom.”²⁷
A young woman in Nazareth
received a greeting of impossible peace:
“Shalom Mary, for Yahweh is with you.”²⁸
A child leapt in the womb,
and a mother cried blessing.²⁹
And an old priest prophesied
that the rising dawn from on high
would guide Israel’s feet
into the everlasting way of shalom.³⁰
An old man in the temple held the baby Yeshua
and whispered,
“Now dismiss Your servant in shalom—
for my eyes have seen Your salvation.”³²
And a prophetess watching nearby proclaimed
that the redemption of Israel had drawn near.³³
Messiah
When that baby grew into a rabbi—
he looked out on a sea of brokenness from a dusty hillside,
and saw souls who knew more of oppression than exaltation,
more of hunger than fullness,
more of conflict than calm—
he lifted His voice and said,
“Blessed are the shalom-makers,
for they shall be called sons of God.”³⁴
And when He entered the city of peace—
Jeru-shalem—
He wept with holy anguish:
“If only you had known
for the things that would make for your shalom.”³⁵
At the table before His death, He said,
“My shalom I give you—
but not as the world gives.”³⁶
And at the stake of His execution—
when the serpent of old stirred the wild and waste in the hardened hearts of the rebellious,
when the powers of darkness surged and surrounded like dogs
to mock, mar, and make ruin of the Chosen One—
He made shalom
by the blood of His life.³⁷
He reconciled Israel,
and sprinkled clean the many from among the nations,
making us one family,
tearing down our walls of hostility,
preaching shalom to those near
and shalom to those far.³⁸
And after rising from the dead—
in rooms thick with fear,
in hearts sinking beneath the face of the deep—
He came and said:
“Shalom.”³⁹
Until the Day
In the unsteady waters of our own lives, in the chaos waters of our own world—
we are able to look with great courage
for the day of the shalom of our God to visit us from on high.
For we know of His shalom there will be no end—
no end to the forever He brings.
He will soon crush the adversary under our feet,⁴⁰ because his shalom guards our hearts and minds,⁴¹
and shods our feet
to steady us for what is yet to come.⁴²
Even at Christmastime,
the present powers of darkness do not relent outside these church doors.
The wars do not stop.
The innocent find no reprieve.
They are plundered and preyed upon
while the great ones of the world say,
“Peace and safety—shalom is here.”
But the wise among us see their empty words for the delusion that they are.
For sudden travail will seize the foolish
like a thief in the night;
as a rider on a red horse awakens,
and it is given to him
to take shalom from the land.⁴³
But we—we who know the story of shalom—we who dwell in the shadow of the Most High and hold heavy the hope of Zion—we will not be moved.
The earth may quake,
the hills may melt,
and the hearts of the mighty may fail.
Though arrows fly by day
and the powers of the heavens are shaken,
we stand firm—
planted in the shalom that has been
since the foundations of the earth.
So we will not be surprised when a great harvest of righteousness
comes to those who have sown faithfully in shalom.
It grows right in the places
that today
are anything but peaceful.⁴⁴
So even when there is no fruit on the vine,
even when we tremble in the night,
our delight is in the shalom of the Lord—
the One who makes our burden light,
the One who makes our feet
to walk upon the heights.⁴⁵
NOTES (Scripture References)
1. Gen. 1:2.
2. Gen. 9:8–17.
3. Gen. 12:1–3; 15:5; 22:17.
4. Lev. 26:6.
5. Exod. 33:14.
6. Lev. 3; Lev. 7:11–21.
7. 2 Sam. 7:11; Ps. 89:3–4; cf. Ezek. 34:25; 37:26.
8. Gen. 15:15.
9. Isa. 9:6.
10. Isa. 9:7.
11. Isa. 52:7.
12. Jer. 6:14; 8:11.
13. Isa. 53:5.
14. Isa. 54:10.
15. Isa. 55:12.
16. Mic. 5:4–5.
17. Jer. 33:6.
18. Hag. 2:9.
19. Ps. 4:8.
20. Ps. 29:11.
21. Ps. 34:14.
22. Ps. 37:11.
23. Ps. 72:7.
24. Ps. 85:8.
25. Ps. 85:10.
26. Ps. 119:165.
27. Luke 1:13–17.
28. Luke 1:28.
29. Luke 1:41–45.
30. Luke 1:78–79.
31. Luke 2:14.
32. Luke 2:29–32.
33. Luke 2:36–38.
34. Matt. 5:9.
35. Luke 19:42.
36. John 14:27.
37. Col. 1:20.
38. Eph. 2:14–17.
39. John 20:19, 21, 26.
40. Rom. 16:20.
41. Phil. 4:7.
42. Eph. 6:15.
43. Rev. 6:4; 1 Thess. 5:2–3.
44. James 3:18
45. Hab. 3:17–19.