Every December, the world starts rushing as seasonal lights go up, calendars fill up quickly, and Christmas playlists spill from department store speakers before the Thanksgiving leftovers have even cooled. There is a cultural trend to rush in and rush through the holiday season.

But Advent invites a different rhythm. It invites us not to hurry, but to wonder.

Advent beckons us to wander slowly, thoughtfully, hopefully down the long road toward Bethlehem. And somewhere along that road, if we allow it, wonder begins to rise inside us like a sacred warmth.

The old Appalachian Christmas carol “I Wonder as I Wander” captures this spirit fittingly. Its haunting melody and simple lyrics invite us into a posture of awe as we contemplate the mystery of Christ stepping into our world. The song itself echoes Advent’s message: as we wander toward Bethlehem, it is the wondering that prepares our hearts and minds to welcome the Christ child, yet again.

Over a century ago, when crowds gathered in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, waiting for news of the Wright brothers’ first flight, they lived in a moment thick with anticipation. Before anyone saw an airplane lift off the ground, people gazed at the horizon, holding their breath, wondering if something extraordinary was about to break into the ordinary. That is Advent. It is the pause before the miracle.

Wonder cultivates the fertile soil of our minds, readying us to learn and grow. As Socrates reasoned, “Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.”

Advent isn’t a day trip. It is a progressive journey. Think of Advent as the “loading bar” on your computer or phone. It moves slowly from 6%…to 28%…to 75%. You can’t rush it, and you can’t ignore it. That little bar is doing important behind-the-scenes work—downloading, preparing, aligning things so the device can function as it should.

Advent does the same for the human heart. It prepares us, steadies us, and positions us to receive Christ not with fatigue but with awe.

We are not the first ones to travel this path. Scripture is full of wanderers whose journey shapes our own:

• The prophets wandered with hope (Isaiah 9:2–7).
• Mary wandered toward Bethlehem with courage (Luke 1:38).
• Joseph wandered with obedience (Matthew 1:20–24).
• The shepherds wandered with expectancy (Luke 2:8–15).

They did not rush. They wandered faithfully, trusting that God would help them navigate the journey.

And so do we.

In December of 1941, with the world engulfed in war, Winston Churchill stood beside President Franklin Roosevelt on the White House lawn for a Christmas Eve service. The future felt frightening, the headlines heavy. Yet together they read John 1:5: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

That night, in the shadow of conflict, nations heard a reminder that has anchored believers for centuries: even in the world’s darkest winters, God’s light shines in the dark places and spaces of life, a message we need to hear resoundingly this year.

Perhaps we must learn to wonder again. Advent prompts us to slow down enough to see grace glowing at the edges of our days, sort of like candlelight in a dark sanctuary, gentle yet unignorable.

This season is not about racing toward a date on the calendar. It is about traveling with intention and a spirit of inquiry. About noticing God’s presence in the challenges, in the questions, in the silences, and in the small mercies. It is about recapturing the holy wonder that first stirred in Bethlehem, a holy curiosity that echoes the humble, searching tone of “I Wonder as I Wander.”

Isaiah invites us to walk this road with hope: “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light” (Isaiah 9:2). Mark calls us to prepare the way (Mark 1:3). Mary teaches us to magnify the Lord (Luke 1:46).

As you wander the road to Bethlehem this year, may wonder rise in you again, wonder that steadies your spirit, softens your pace, and opens your heart and mind to the One who is coming.

Don’t rush there. Wander. And wonder.

Because those who wander the road to Bethlehem with wonder do not merely celebrate Christmas—they are ready to welcome the Christ child when they arrive, and then to follow him from the manger to the cross and beyond.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who now serves as a leadership coach and consultant with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife live on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)

Although plans for a federal highway system were underway as early as the 1930s, construction of the Interstate Highway System was officially authorized by the Federal Highway Aid Act of 1956. By the time I-20 opened between Atlanta and Birmingham in the 1970s, the residents of my hometown eagerly anticipated faster travel along this new freeway.

For years, my family had driven to Birmingham from Anniston on old Highway 78, a winding two-lane road that meandered across the Coosa River at Lake Logan Martin and over the mountains near Chula Vista. When I-20 finally opened, I was thrilled to accompany my grandparents on our annual Christmas trip to Birmingham’s Eastwood Mall. Our itinerary included shopping, visiting “the real Santa,” riding the escalator in Pizitz Department Store, and dining at Morrison’s Cafeteria.

To my surprise, my grandfather preferred the old two-lane highway over the new expressway. He often remarked, “The freeway is for people in a rush. The scenic route is for those who want to enjoy the trip.”

At the time, I didn’t know anything about Advent, but now I see how it invites us to take the scenic route to Bethlehem. The ethos of our economy pushes us toward Christmas in the fast lane, where the season seems defined by shopping, spending, and acquiring. John Jensen’s quip comes to mind: “The trouble with life in the fast lane is that you get to the other end in an awful hurry.” Advent, in contrast, encourages us to slow down and savor the scenery on the way to the manger.

As a young pastor, I was introduced to the colors and candles of Advent, and my journey toward Christmas changed forever. Now more than ever, I believe that as mission-driven Christians living in a market-driven culture, we need the reflective practices of Advent to help us resist the stealthy influences of materialism, busyness, and greed—forces that obscure the true message of the season and replace it with superficial slogans and commercial clichés.

Advent invites us to listen for a truth bigger than words and to long for a gift beyond material things. It reconnects us with the heart of the Christmas story, challenging us to reject cultural portrayals of a Jesus who promises prosperity, success, and self-fulfillment. Instead, it calls us to follow the biblical Jesus, who offers forgiveness, models simplicity, and teaches self-denial.

For Jesus followers and spiritual seekers alike, Advent is a scenic journey that begins with the promises of the prophets and culminates in the nativity. It’s a season of growing expectation that peaks when the Christ candle is lit and the Christmas star shines over Bethlehem.

Taking the scenic route to Bethlehem means revisiting the timeless stories of the prophets, Mary and Joseph’s journey, and the shepherds in the fields. It means pausing to notice the beauty of God’s work in the world and in our own lives.

By choosing this unhurried path, we open our hearts to both the joyful songs of angels and the mournful cries of a broken world. We make room for God to work in us, preparing us not just for the celebration of Christmas but for a life of following Jesus.

When we choose the scenic route to Bethlehem, avoiding the fast-paced cultural expressway, we create space to hear the still, small voice calling us to follow Jesus. By taking this road less traveled, we just might discover that the journey is every bit as meaningful as the destination.

(Revised article from 2017)

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who currently serves as a leadership coach and columnist with the Center for Healthy Churches.)