Guest Post by: David Tonaszuck
Reflection on the Gospel of Matthew 11:2-11
Today, I want to share with you not just a message, but a story. It’s a story that could belong to any of us. It’s the story of James, a husband and father of three whose life was upended just days before Christmas. For sixteen years, James worked at a factory, building a future for his family. Two days before what should have been a season of joy, his company announced layoffs. Just like that, he was out of a job, his last paycheck barely enough to cover the rent. He watched the lights go up in his neighbors’ windows and heard families sing and celebrate, but instead felt the heavy shroud of anxiety and sadness descend on his home.
Waiting in the Dark: When Advent Feels Heavy Instead of Hopeful
James tried to stay brave for his wife, Amy, and their children: twelve-year-old Allie, who grew serious and careful almost overnight; eight-year-old Ben, still stubborn enough to believe in Christmas magic; and little Sophie, who just wanted her father to smile. But at night, James would lie awake, staring into the darkness, wondering how to say there would be no gifts, not even a tree. He felt a different kind of emptiness, a pressure he’d never known before, questioning not just his future but God’s presence.
One evening, both to escape the cold and because of a persistent feeling he couldn’t quite name, James wandered into his church. There, amid the scented darkness of Advent candles, the pastor spoke of waiting and hope, about the promise of a Savior who comes when everything seems lost. It was a message about the patience required for true hope and how Advent is a season of waiting, not with despair, but with trust that God is near. For the first time in years, James prayed with honesty: “Lord, I can’t do this alone. I need You.” He placed his worries, his pain, and his family in the hands of Christ, choosing to trust God even if nothing changed. In that prayer, James began to wait, not out of resignation, but in patient hope, trusting Jesus’ promise to enter into his struggle.
Advent in Real Time: Trusting God When Nothing Is Certain
Advent came and went. The days didn’t get easier. James watched his savings slide away and sent out desperate job applications. But something changed in him. He was gentler, less quick to anger, and somehow steadier. Amy noticed. When she asked, James told her, “I’m trying to believe Jesus is here, even in this.” He didn’t say it like a man certain of a miracle, but like one opening the smallest door of hope, willing to wait on the Lord with patience.
Then, a week after Christmas, when James least expected it, grace broke through. A call came from a semi-stranger at church, offering a job. The pay was less, but the work was steady and, in another blessing, came with food for the family pantry. It wasn’t just that God provided financially. Something deeper happened in James. A peace and confidence were born in surrender. He realized that strength is often found in waiting with trust rather than worrying in fear. His hope became active, a quiet rejoicing rooted in patience.
At the family dinner table, James told the truth, not only about the layoff, but about how God had met him in the silence and waiting of Advent. “We are here because Christ showed up when I finally let Him in,” James told his family. “We’re always going to have suffering, but Jesus doesn’t leave us to face it alone.” The true miracle that winter wasn’t a job, but the gift of hope and faith passed on to his children, a kind of light born in the darkness. James began leading his family in prayer every night, showing them that waiting with patience leads to rejoicing when Christ comes.
Salvation Breaks Through: Seeing Christ’s Light in Our Patient Waiting
James’ story is our story. In the darkest days, whether financial, relational, or spiritual, it is so easy to believe that hope is for someone else and that faith is just wishful thinking. Today’s Gospel, however, invites us to see otherwise. When John the Baptist, imprisoned and burdened with doubt, sends messengers to Jesus, Jesus responds not with grand promises, but with evidence: “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.” Salvation is breaking in, even when we cannot see it. Sometimes it comes after patient waiting, and the joy rings all the sweeter.
St. John Paul II reminds us: “We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song. We do not pretend that life is all beauty… But we know Jesus has conquered sin… We live in the light of his Paschal Mystery.” In Advent, we anticipate Christmas, but we also train ourselves to look for the ways Christ continues to come quietly and persistently, bringing hope, healing, and unexpected grace. It is in the waiting that our hope is formed, and in our rejoicing it is fulfilled.
Living Trust Each Day: Small Acts That Welcome Christ Into Our Waiting
How do we learn to place our trust in Jesus through the Holy Spirit? It begins in small, practical acts: praying each day, attending Mass and participating in the sacraments, especially the Eucharist, surrendering our anxieties, and letting Scripture shape our thoughts. It’s found in reaching out for help, practicing gratitude, creating moments of silence, and serving the needy. Every gesture that opens our hearts, even a whispered “Jesus, I trust in you,” invites the Spirit to deepen our reliance on God’s faithfulness.
Advent is the perfect season to welcome Christ anew, not because everything is tidy, but because He comes precisely into our struggles and longings, and most importantly into our waiting. As John the Baptist prepared the way, so too are we called to witness with words and actions, proclaiming that Christ is here, working in and through us, especially as we wait with patience and rejoice in hope.
We give thanks and praise and glory to our Father in Heaven, whose love for us through Jesus and the Holy Spirit never fails, and who is present even on our darkest nights, turning them into the dawn of new hope. 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.
