Every year during the month of December, we have the Advent wreath onstage. And we all know that there are always three purple candles and one pink candle.
Most of us just accept that that’s the way advent wreaths are. We don’t question it. Except that there’s always that one kid who says, “James, why is there one pink candle? Was Hobby Lobby out of purple candles and you just thought maybe no one would notice?”
And so I’ll put on my wisest pastoral authority voice and so, “No, no– it’s intentional. The pink candle is the Candle of Joy.”
And again, most people are satisfied with that answer. “Oh… the candle of joy. I get it now.”
But once again, there’s always that one kid who wants to take it one step further. “But why is pink the color of joy? What makes pink a more joyful color than purple?”
Ok. I admit it. I’m that one kid. I had to know. How did we decide that one of the candles was gonna be pink?
So here’s what I found out.
If you aren’t sure what Advent means, it means coming. Advent is a season of expectation and longing for the coming King. And originally all the candles in the Advent wreath were purple—purple signifies royalty.
But Advent wasn’t always the warm-and-cozy countdown to Christmas that we make it today. In the first few centuries of the Church, Advent was actually a lot more like Lent. It was a time of fasting, repentance, and self-examination.
And purple works for that too, because purple is the traditional liturgical color for repentance.
But at some point, the Church decided that there needed to be a break in the fasting. We were still waiting, still anticipating, still longing, still preparing, still repenting…
But someone—I’m convinced it had to have been a children’s minister—remembered the verse from Psalm 30 that says:
“Weeping may tarry for the night,
but joy comes with the morning.”
And maybe—this is just holy imagination, but I like to picture it—maybe that medieval children’s minister was walking to church on the third Sunday of Advent. And maybe the sun hadn’t quite risen yet. But in the eastern sky the darkness had begun to give way, and the horizon glowed with that soft rose-colored light.
The deep purple of night was warming into shades of pink.
And maybe that children’s minister—who, by the way, painted her office pink her first week on the job—got to church and said to the pastor:
“Hey boss, what if we switch to a pink candle, just for this week?”
Okay… maybe it didn’t happen exactly like that.
But we do know this: at some point the Church began calling the third Sunday of Advent Gaudete Sunday, from the Latin word for “Rejoice.” That’s gow-DAY-tay, not ‘gow-debt,’ as your pastor almost preached to you this morning (Thanks, ChatGPT!)
It was the day when joy was allowed to break into the fast.
The day when purple shifted toward rose.
The day when the morning light touched the night sky.
The early Church said,
“We’re going to rejoice now—
even though the story isn’t finished yet.
Even though the waiting is not over.
Even though the Messiah has not yet appeared.”
And over time, that tradition became the pink candle on the Advent wreath.
The pink candle isn’t joyful because the waiting is over.
The pink candle is joyful because God meets us in the waiting. He meets us in the middle of messy, uncertain lives, and He says, “Hang in there. Joy is coming.”
In the Christmas story, Joy is promised.
Joy is delayed.
And then—when God keeps His promise—
joy erupts.
1. Joy Promised
Let’s start with Zechariah. Luke tells us that in the days of Herod there was an old couple living in Judea named Zechariah and Elizabeth. Long ago, they had given up on the idea they would ever have children. Elizabeth was unable to conceive, and now they were both advanced in years.
But in Luke 1, we read that the angel Gabriel appears to Zechariah and tells him that pretty soon, he and Elizabeth are about to start using their social security checks to buy diapers. He says in Luke 1:14
14 And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth,
Skip down a few verses, and you see a similar announcement to Mary. The same is true for Mary.
Gabriel says, “Rejoice, highly favored one.” (English translations usually just translate this as “Greetings,” but the Greek is the imperative chaire, which means “rejoice.”
So there’s the promise of joy to Zechariah in verse 14.
There’s the command to rejoice to Mary in verse 28.
Then there’s the expression of joy of the unborn John the Baptist.
Elizabeth is six months pregnant with John when Mary comes to visit her, and verse 44 says that as soon as Mary came through the door, the baby in Elizabeth’s womb “leaped for joy.”
Mary herself sings, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” (v 46-47)
Joy is all over Luke 1. Flip over one page to Luke 2, and we meet the shepherds.
The shepherds are working third shift. They’re out on “abiding in the fields” —doing the same job they did the night before and the night before that.
And for the third time, an angel shows up and says to them , “Behold, I bring you good news of great joy.”
I wonder if the shepherds looked around and said to themselves, “Well, nothing looks different. It’s just as dark as it was before. We are just as poor as we were before. The sheep smell just as bad as they did before.”
I guess we are just going to have to take this promise of good news of great joy… on faith.
Beloved, joy is promised before anything looks joyful.
2. Joy Delayed
Just because joy is promised doesn’t mean joy is immediate.
It certainly wasn’t immediate for anyone in the first Christmas story.
Start with Zechariah. The angel promises joy in verse 14…
and the very next thing that happens is God tells him he can’t speak until the day John is born. This might have been joyful for Elizabeth, but not so much for Zechariah.
It’s joy delayed.
Then there’s Mary.
Gabriel tells her to rejoice, but for the next nine months she deals with morning sickness and swollen ankles.
It’s joy delayed.
No one in the Christmas story embodies this idea of joy delayed better than Joseph. In Matthew 1, we learn that when Joseph found out Mary was pregnant, he decided to divorce her quietly (Matt. 1:19). That’s how Matthew introduces him—as a good man in an impossible situation.
Before Joseph ever hears the promise of joy, he feels betrayal. Confusion. Heartbreak. Shame. The weight of feeling love for Mary and hurt by Mary at the same time.
Then, the angel appears to him in Matthew 1:20 and says:
“Joseph, son of David… do not fear.”
Now notice—The angel does not say, “Rejoice!”
He says, “Don’t be afraid,”
Joseph is actually never told to rejoice. Just to obey. Take Mary as your wife, and it will all make sense later.
Joseph hears that the child is from the Holy Spirit, but even after that revelation, he still has to:
• face the gossip in Nazareth,
• take Mary as his wife with everyone assuming the worst,
• register in Bethlehem,
• flee to Egypt,
• and raise the Son of God on a carpenter’s salary.
If anyone teaches us that joy is delayed, it’s Joseph.
He receives the promise in a dream— but he carries the weight in real life.
His joy will come… but not yet.
And that’s why the purple candles stay lit.
Purple is the color of longing, of waiting. The purple candles whisper, “not yet.”
And this is where the pink candle speaks a word of grace.
“Even in the waiting, God sends joy ahead of schedule.”
Joy in the dark.
Joy in the confusion.
Joy in the long middle where nothing seems to be changing.
“Weeping may tarry for the night,
but joy comes in the morning.”
And Rejoice Sunday—the Sunday of the pink candle—
is the Church’s way of saying,
“The morning hasn’t come yet… but look at the horizon.
It’s starting to glow.”
Beloved, if you are in a season where joy feels delayed…
you are not out of step with the Christmas story.
You are right in the middle of it.
3. Joy Erupts
So joy is promised in Luke 1.
Joy is delayed in Matthew 1.
But in Matthew 2— suddenly, joy erupts.
And it doesn’t erupt with Zechariah, or Elizabeth, or Mary, or Joseph, or the shepherds. Not even with the angels.
The only ones that actually express joy at the birth of Christ are the wise men from the east.
Foreigners. Outsiders.
When the Magi finally see the star settle over the place where Jesus was, Matthew says:
“They rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.”
(Matthew 2:10)
In Greek, Matthew stacks the words on top of each other:
They rejoiced.
With joy.
Great joy.
Exceedingly great joy.
It’s joy upon joy, joy overflowing, joy erupting.
The Wise Men don’t just feel joy— they burst with it.
After all the waiting, after all the miles traveled, the border crossings, the customs, the immigration, the visa applications,
after all the questions and uncertainty…
they finally see Him. And joy explodes.
No one in the Christmas story expresses joy like the Wise Men.
Not the angels.
Not the shepherds.
Not Mary, or Joseph, or Zechariah, or Elizabeth, or even John the Baptist in the womb.
Only the wise men get the quadruple emphasis.
Why?
Because they embody what it means to see the promise fulfilled.
They followed the light they had. They waited longer than anyone else.
And when God kept His promise, their joy could not be contained.
Beloved, this is Advent joy fulfilled.
Joy that begins as a whisper,
waits through the long silence,
and finally erupts when Christ appears.
Response:
I don’t know where you are emotionally this Christmas.
Maybe it’s been a great year, and it’s easy for you to express joy. Maybe you’re already looking ahead to 2026 with excitement, and you are living in that place of joy promised.
But maybe some of you are living in the reality that joy is delayed.
2025 wasn’t the year you hoped it would be.
You’ve been knocked backward by financial hardship, job loss, death, divorce, sickness… betrayal. You feel like something broke beneath your feet and you’re still trying to find your balance again.
If that’s you, then please take this on faith:
Joy delayed is not joy denied.
Remember—the wise men didn’t arrive on Christmas night. They likely didn’t meet Jesus until nearly two years later. There were hundreds of miles between joy promised and joy expressed.
And it may be a while before you feel like the joy God promised has taken root in your own life.
But know this: God keeps His promises.
The first prophecies of the Messiah came centuries before His birth. God’s people endured captivity, wilderness wanderings, civil war, exile, and four hundred years of silence before anyone heard the cry of a newborn Savior.
And still—He came. Right on time.
Not a moment too soon, not a moment too late.
So hear me:
Joy delayed is not joy denied.
“Weeping may tarry for the night…
but joy comes with the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)
Trust that the purple will give way to pink.
Jesus has come. And Jesus is coming again.
Let’s pray.
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