Advent is here, and our church is kicking off a new series called A Nativity Story. And yes—we’re bringing along a few fun characters each week until Christmas Eve (which, by the way, is on Wednesday, December 24th at 7 p.m. One service. Whole family. It’s going to be beautiful. Don’t miss it!).

But this week, something unexpected happened in our little Nativity video:
Gabriel the angel was… discouraged.

And honestly? I get it.

Gabriel remembers the glory days—skies splitting open, shepherds falling on their faces, wisemen chasing a star across continents. Back then, people noticed God.

But now?
Everyone in the house is scrolling, shopping, rushing, planning, wrapping, posting, and checking their phones like it’s an Olympic sport. (The average person checks 144 times a day, if you're counting… Gabriel sure is.)

In frustration he sighs, “They couldn’t hear an announcement from God even if I destroyed their Wi-Fi router.”
Relatable?

But then Mary steps in—calm, wise, steady Mary—and she says something that stops everything:

“Jesus doesn’t need a spotlight.
He only needs a manger.”

That line has been echoing in my heart all week.

Because God does sometimes thunder—like angels filling the night sky for shepherds who smelled like… well… shepherds.

But God also whispers—like He did to Elijah, speaking not in the wind, earthquake, or fire, but in a gentle, barely-there whisper that required leaning in to hear it.

And—this one is hard for us—
God waits.
God is not slow, God is patient. God doesn’t give up on distracted people or rushed hearts. God waits for us to look up.

And finally, God dwells.
The Word became flesh and moved into the neighbourhood—not into a palace or cathedral but into the simplest, most ordinary place possible: a manger.

The manger is the great equalizer—no VIP section, no prerequisites, no perfect life required.
If God is comfortable entering the world through a barn, God is comfortable entering your Monday morning, your messy kitchen, your imperfect faith.

Here’s the question Advent presses gently into our hurried hearts:

Are we missing the manger because we’re waiting for the spotlight?

Maybe God will thunder for you this season.
Maybe God will whisper.
Maybe He’ll invite you to wait.
Maybe He’ll meet you in the most ordinary moment of your day.

But God will meet you.

Because God is Emmanuel—God with us.
With us in the noise.
With us in the quiet.
With us in the joy.
With us in the ache.
With us in every breath between now and Christmas morning.

So this Advent, slow down just long enough to look toward the manger.
He doesn’t need a stage—just a little space in your heart.

God with us. Always.