Guest Post by: David Tonaszuck
Reflection on the Gospel of Matthew 3:1-12
Dear sisters and brothers in Christ,
As Advent unfolds before us, we’re handed an invitation—not just to more lists, more shopping, or more frantic hustle, but to something riskier and far more honest. Let’s take a glimpse at someone in our own midst—a woman like Samantha, perhaps someone you know, perhaps someone a little like you.
Every year, Samantha mapped out her perfect Christmas with military precision: menus, presents, decorations, endless lists promising a season that would finally feel right. And every year, as she sat among the torn wrapping paper and cold leftovers, a hollow ache settled in. “Hollowed out by the holidays,” she joked. But beneath that joke—loneliness, disappointment, a hunger for something real.
One Advent, perhaps nudged by a friend or the Holy Spirit, Samantha found herself in church, half expecting sentiment, half expecting nothing at all. Instead, John the Baptist’s jarring cry landed in her lap: “Prepare the way. Make straight the paths. Produce good fruit as evidence of your repentance.” Not exactly the cozy Christmas comfort she’d envisioned. But it was honest. It was wild. And it sparked a realization—she’d been polishing the outside, all while ignoring the clutter inside her own heart.
Over the coming weeks, she let go of some lists. She embraced silence. She made space—both in her days and inside herself—for God to speak. She spent honest moments listening to those she loved, and gave time to strangers who had less. Old wounds, buried fears, flickers of hope surfaced. She prayed, not with perfect words, but honesty: “Jesus, come into my mess.”
What happened wasn’t Instagram-worthy. But as Christmas neared, the emptiness faded, replaced by a deep, surprising peace. Samantha’s heart lightened. Her laughter returned. Her love became tangible. The change wasn’t flashy, but it was real. She bore good fruit—kindness, patience, generosity—a harvest grown quietly by welcoming Christ into her life.
Bearing Fruit That Lasts: Advent’s Urgent Call to Authentic Change
In today’s Gospel, John the Baptist steps onto the scene not with gentle suggestions, but a bracing call: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” This isn’t about wallowing in guilt or rehearsing old mistakes. Repentance means change: a turning toward what matters most. John does not care about spiritual credentials or inherited tradition; he draws our attention to visible evidence: the fruit we bear.
And this is where the power of Advent comes alive. John’s warning is urgent; the ax is at the root. There is no time for pretending. Jesus is coming—not simply as a child in a manger, but as Lord who brings with Him the Holy Spirit and fire. He alone transforms what no ritual, no tradition, no willpower can change. To welcome Jesus is to let Him change us, get down to our roots, cut away what’s dead, and plant new life.
St. John Chrysostom put it plainly: “The only proof of truly loving God is this: that we try in every way to produce fruit in our works.” Sisters and brothers, love for God is not an idea or a feeling—it should be visible in what flows out of us: mercy, justice, patience, forgiveness.
Advent isn’t about playing it safe, nor is it about getting the surface “just right.” It is about preparing room for God. John teaches us to clear the clutter, make space for Christ, and live in anticipation of Someone greater. This isn’t empty tradition; it’s a genuine hope, lived out in acts of love and humility.
Daring to Be Made New: Honest Advent Preparation and Grateful Surrender
So let us, like Samantha, risk honesty this Advent. Let us put down our lists and our busyness, sit for a few minutes in silence, open the doors of our hearts, and say: “Lord, come as you wish, and make me new.”
May our preparation bear real fruit—not as a badge we polish, but as the quiet overflow of a heart transformed by Christ’s coming. Let us give thanks, praise, and glory to our LORD God—who in His everlasting love sends us His Son and fills us with His Holy Spirit, making us new and drawing us forever closer to His embrace.
We ask for this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
About Our Guest Blogger
Saint Carlo Acutis once said, “Not me, but God.” His words echo deeply in my own spiritual life. This blog is not about me, but about the work of the Holy Spirit. I choose to remain anonymous because the voice behind these reflections isn’t what matters — the One speaking through them is.
I am a lifelong Catholic with a deep love for Scripture, the sacraments, and the quiet ways God speaks through everyday life. Live the Eucharist was born from my desire to share how the Gospel and the Eucharist shape not just my Sundays, but every step of the journey.
My hope is that these reflections bless you, challenge you, and draw you closer to Jesus — truly present in the Eucharist and profoundly present in your daily life.
