In this first meditation for the Nativity Fast, Rev. Fr. Dr. Timothy (Tenny) Thomas reflects on Isaiah 9:2—“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” The Church places before us two radiant figures: the Virgin Mary and St. Elizabeth, each preparing in hidden, miraculous ways to receive God. One conceives beyond nature, the other beyond hope, revealing that when God enters the story, the impossible becomes the beginning of glory.

Father Tenny invites us to see fasting not merely as a change in diet, but as the preparation of the heart’s inner chamber—the spiritual womb where Christ desires to dwell. What in us feels barren or impossible to renew? Where have we stopped expecting life? In this season, God gently asks us to make room for Him, so that He may bring forth something new.

A blessed Nativity Fast to all.

Reflecting on Isaiah 7:14—“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Emmanuel”—this meditation invites us to consider the long silence between God’s promise and its fulfillment. Centuries passed, kingdoms rose and fell, yet the Word of God did not fade. As the Fathers teach, God’s promises do not age like dust, but mature like wine, deepening with time.

In this reflection, Rev. Fr. Dr. Timothy (Tenny) Thomas reminds us that God’s timing is not absence, and delay is not denial. The Virgin Mary’s womb became the meeting place of all waiting and all faith, revealing that what seems delayed is often being prepared in mystery.

As we journey through the Nativity Fast, we are called to learn this quiet strength: to trust in the dark, to hold God’s word gently and steadily, and to allow His promises to ripen within us. Choose one promise—peace, mercy, or guidance—and let it become fuel for the heart, steadying us as we await Emmanuel, God with us.

Reflecting on St. Luke 1:38—“Behold the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word”—this meditation draws us into the holy moment when heaven waited for a human response. Before the mystery of the Incarnation unfolded, God, who spoke the galaxies into being, stood before the freedom of a young virgin and asked for her consent.

Mary’s “yes” came without guarantees, clarity, or assurance of safety. It was faith offered without conditions. As the Syrian Fathers teach, through one woman’s willing obedience, the Savior entered the world, and divine life crossed the threshold into human history.

Rev. Fr. Dr. Timothy (Tenny) Thomas invites us to recognize how God works in the same way within us. Grace is never forced; it is always invited. Each quiet “yes”—whether bold or trembling—creates space for Christ to dwell more deeply in the heart. Small acts of obedience, patience, forgiveness, and truth spoken gently carry eternal weight in God’s hands.

During the Nativity Fast, we are called to notice those sacred moments when heaven leans close and waits. Choose one obedience you have postponed, and say yes—not because you understand everything, but because you trust Him. For every faithful “yes” allows Christ to be born again in the hidden places of the heart.

Reflecting on St. Luke 2:7—“She brought forth her firstborn Son, wrapped Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn”—this meditation invites us to contemplate the humility of God’s coming. Christ did not arrive in brilliance or spectacle, but in fragility: a newborn who cried, breathed, and needed to be held.

Rev. Fr. Dr. Timothy (Tenny) Thomas draws on the wisdom of St. Athanasius, who reminds us that Christ took our dust so that we might receive His glory. God did not remain distant from human weakness; He entered it fully, sharing our hunger, limits, tears, and exhaustion. In doing so, weakness itself was transformed into a place of divine presence.

During the Nativity Fast, we are invited to recognize that glory often hides in what feels small, tired, or vulnerable. This meditation encourages us to offer one weakness to God—without shame, fear, or excuse—and to allow Him to breathe His strength into the places where we feel most fragile. For the God who took our dust is the same God who gives us His glory.

Drawing from Psalm 143:10—“Teach me to do Your will, for You are my God. Your Spirit is good; lead me in the land of uprightness”—this meditation reflects on Advent as the Church’s quiet, persistent prayer: Come, Lord Jesus. Not only into the world, but into our choices, fears, directions, and future.

Rev. Fr. Dr. Timothy (Tenny) Thomas reminds us that Christ does not enter our lives with force or noise. He comes as He did in Bethlehem—humbly, gently, waiting to be welcomed. Advent trains the heart to release control and to place the reins of life into God’s hands. As the Fathers teach, Christ truly reigns in us when we yield our will to His.

This reflection invites us to see that God’s greatest works begin in surrender: a virgin’s yes, a carpenter’s obedience, a child laid in a manger instead of a throne. If we desire Christ to be born in us, we must offer more than admiration—we must offer direction. Choose one area where resistance remains, and pray with trust: Lord Jesus, take the reins. For the Child of Bethlehem leads more gently and wisely than we ever could ourselves.

Reflecting on St. Luke 2:19—“But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart”—this meditation invites us to consider the holy practice of silence. Some mysteries enter our lives not asking to be explained, but to be received and held. While angels sang and shepherds hurried, Mary chose stillness. She treasured what God was doing and allowed it to unfold in quiet trust.

Rev. Fr. Dr. Timothy (Tenny) Thomas draws on the wisdom of St. Isaac the Syrian, who teaches that silence can hold what words may shatter. God’s greatest works often begin like seeds—hidden, small, and growing silently within the heart. In Scripture, silence is never emptiness; it is expectant fullness, the space where God prepares what He will later reveal.

In a world filled with noise, opinions, and distraction, holy silence becomes an act of faith. It declares that God is at work even when we cannot see the movement. This meditation gently invites listeners to spend time in quiet—not to solve or speak, but to hold space for God, as Mary did.

Reflecting on St. Luke 1:68—“Blessed is the Lord God of Israel, for He has visited and redeemed His people”—this meditation turns our attention to the quiet miracle of John the Baptist’s birth. There are no angels in the sky, no guiding star, and no watching crowds—yet heaven bends low, for God is preparing a voice that will awaken a sleeping world.

Before Christ appears, God prepares a forerunner: a preacher of repentance, a friend of the Bridegroom, a lamp lit before the dawn. As the Fathers teach, when God prepares a great work, He first prepares a great silence. John grows in hiddenness—first in Elizabeth’s home, then in the solitude of the wilderness—where his life itself becomes a testimony that holiness begins long before it is seen.

At John’s birth, Zechariah’s tongue is loosed and praise becomes the first sound of this new chapter in salvation history. Doubt gives way to prophecy, barrenness to joy, and what once seemed impossible becomes the beginning of God’s unfolding promise. This meditation reminds us that the unseen seasons matter—the private prayers, quiet obedience, and unnoticed faithfulness through which God shapes His servants.

Honor the hidden work. Choose one small act of repentance or obedience today, trusting that God uses the quiet to prepare the extraordinary.

Reflecting on St. Luke 2:15—“Let us now go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has come to pass, which the Lord has made known to us”—this meditation draws our attention to the first hearts that ran toward Christ. They were not scholars, rulers, or the powerful of their age, but shepherds—ordinary laborers keeping watch through the night.

Rev. Fr. Dr. Timothy (Tenny) Thomas reminds us that heaven is drawn to humility. As St. Augustine teaches, the humble receive what the proud overlook. The angels did not appear in a palace or the courts of the Temple, but in an open field, to those whose hands were rough and whose names were unknown. Revelation moved quickly toward those who were ready to receive it.

The shepherds did not wait for perfect understanding. They obeyed before they could explain, and they entered the mystery before grasping it fully. Their faith had feet. In a world that urges us to wait for complete clarity, this meditation invites us to respond when God gently nudges the heart.

Act immediately on one good prompting today—a prayer, an act of kindness, a confession, a word of encouragement. Like the shepherds, run toward the light you have, trusting that more light will meet you on the way.