Hearts Prepared

Read

Luke 3:4–6 “A voice of one calling in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him. Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth. And all people will see God’s salvation.’”

Think

The final days before Christmas carry a sense of urgency. You can feel it in the stores, the streets, the inboxes, and even in your own mind. Finish the wrapping. Send the card. Buy the last-minute gift. Clean the house. Finalize the meal. All the external prep rises to a crescendo.

But what about the internal preparation? What about the condition of your heart?

That was John the Baptist’s mission in Luke 3—to prepare people not for a party, but for a person. To help them recognize that someone holy was about to step into their story. His words echo through Advent like a holy reminder: “Prepare the way for the Lord.”

John preached from the wilderness, a place of discomfort and interruption. And yet that’s where people went to hear him. Not the temple. Not the synagogue. The wilderness. Why? Because something in them was hungry. They sensed that something new was on the horizon, and they didn’t want to miss it.

John wasn’t announcing an event. He was announcing a revolution—one that would begin not in palaces or power structures, but in hearts. His message wasn’t, “Get cleaned up for the Messiah,” but “Make space.” Remove the clutter. Straighten the path. Soften the resistance. Let your heart become a landing place for the presence of God.

This passage isn’t about literal roads. It’s about spiritual readiness. It’s about being honest enough to say, “There are some rough places in me. Some high pride and low valleys of discouragement. Some places I’ve let become crooked or hardened or cluttered.” And then inviting Jesus to step into those spaces and make them new.

As Christmas draws near, this is what Advent calls us back to—not just to remember that Jesus came, but to actively prepare for what he wants to do in us now. God isn’t looking for performance. He’s looking for permission. He doesn’t need your perfection. He wants your participation.

Think about the phrase: “Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low…” This is the language of transformation. God doesn’t just want to visit your life—he wants to shape it. He wants to level out the pride that keeps you self-reliant. He wants to raise up the discouraged parts that have been sitting in shame. He wants to straighten what’s gotten bent, and smooth what’s grown rough. Not through your effort, but through his presence.

Advent is not just a season of remembering; it’s a season of readiness. And readiness looks like repentance—not in the guilt-ridden, finger-pointing way we often picture it, but in the soul-softening way that says, “God, I want to be realigned.” Repentance isn’t punishment. It’s preparation. It clears the debris so grace can flow more freely.

The beauty of this kind of preparation is that it’s never too late to start. Even on December 23. Even if the season hasn’t looked how you hoped. Even if you feel spiritually scattered or emotionally numb. Even if your mind is on everything but Jesus.

There is still time to slow down. Still time to invite God to do a fresh work in your heart. Still time to say, “I want to be ready.”

When Luke quotes the prophecy from Isaiah, he ends with a powerful line: “And all people will see God’s salvation.” That’s the destination. That’s what this is all moving toward—not more striving, but more seeing. Not proving yourself, but posturing yourself. Not a checklist, but an encounter.

We prepare the way—not because Jesus needs help showing up, but because we need help noticing. We clear the road so we can see him more clearly. We open our hands so we can receive him more fully.

The goal isn’t a perfect Christmas. It’s a present Christ. It’s not about getting everything done. It’s about creating space to wonder, to listen, to respond.

John’s voice in the wilderness reminds us that the most important kind of readiness happens internally. And even though you can’t control the pace of your week, the behavior of others, or the details of your schedule—you can choose to prepare your heart. You can pause. Breathe. Repent. Worship. Open your hands. Ask for help. Thank him again. There is still time to prepare him room.

Apply

Take a blank sheet of paper and draw a straight path across it. On one side, write what might be “in the way” right now—distraction, anxiety, control, pride, discouragement. On the other side, write a simple prayer of readiness: “Jesus, I want to see you clearly. Prepare my heart.”

Pray

God, in these final days before Christmas, prepare my heart. Clear out what distracts. Level what’s proud. Lift what’s discouraged. Soften what’s stubborn. I don’t want to just go through the motions—I want to welcome you fully. Help me see your salvation with fresh eyes. In Jesus’ name. Amen.