In case you’ve ignored your calendar, we’re one week from Christmas. This is the last week of Advent, the week where we light the candle of Love.
In the last week of Advent, the light grows warmer.
By now, the Advent wreath is familiar. Hope has flickered. Peace has steadied us. Joy has dared to show up, even in unexpected places. And now we come to the candle of love—not as a grand finale, but as the quiet candle holding everything together. On Christmas, we will light the white candle that represents Jesus Christ, the center and the source of our hope, peace, joy, and love.
Love isn’t the loudest candle. It doesn’t demand attention. It simply burns, steady and faithful, refusing to go out. As Scripture reminds us, “This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him” (1 John 4:9).
God’s love isn’t an abstract idea or a warm, fuzzy feeling. It takes flesh. It moves toward us. It wraps strong arms around us. It’s real.
By the last week of Advent, we’re often tired. The calendar is full. The expectations are heavy. Some of us carry feelings of joy; others carry grief. For many of us, our feelings are complicated because we carry a mixture of both. But God’s love meets us where we are, not by erasing our exhaustion or sorrow, but by entering it.
The love we light this week doesn’t wait for us to be ready or worthy. It simply comes.
In a Wesleyan way, we might say the candle of love reminds us that God’s love always goes first. Before we love God, before we love one another, before we even know how to receive or give love well, God has already acted. Love has already been lit.
As the flame glows, we are to sit in silence and watch the flame. It asks us a gentle Advent question: Where have I seen God’s love most clearly this past year? The last candle doesn’t rush us to Christmas morning. It slows us down. It reminds us that the miracle arriving in Bethlehem is love itself, choosing to stay with us.
Prayer: God of love, as we light this candle, warm my heart with your presence. Meet me in my weariness and in my hope. Help me receive your love as a gift, and reflect it—quietly, faithfully, and courageously—to a world still waiting for light. Amen.
