Advent has arrived, and with it all the decorations, travel plans, and little anxieties that seem to multiply this time of year. I joked about my “hard-and-fast rule” on Christmas music and hauling the tubs and the tree upstairs, but beneath the humor is a real admission: this season often stirs up worry. Weather. Family dynamics. Gifts. Travel. Even puppies. The calendar says it’s “the happiest time of the year,” and yet our hearts can tremble over the future.

Advent addresses that exact ache. It is a season of preparation, not only for Christmas but ultimately for Jesus’ return. That means our eyes naturally look forward—where anxiety loves to live. Psalm 112 meets us there with a startling promise: the righteous are not afraid of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord. But Psalm 112 sits beside Psalm 111, and that pairing matters. The way forward, Scripture says, is to look backward—to the God who has already acted, already saved, already bound himself to us in a covenant he keeps.

So we rehearse the past on purpose. We remember the God who brought Israel out of Egypt, who split the sea, who kept them in exile and brought them home. And in Advent, we remember the greater Exodus—God with us, born of Mary, entrusted to Joseph’s rough hands, the infinite made infant. The manger is our proof that God moves toward us in love. The cross is our proof that he ends the reign of sin. The empty tomb is our proof that death doesn’t get the last word. And baptism is our proof that those victories have our name on them.

That memory doesn’t erase wise planning; it simply rewrites the motive. Prepare, yes, but not from fear. Haul the tubs and string the lights, but let them preach to your anxiety: Emmanuel happened. Emmanuel happens. Emmanuel will happen again. If gifts fall flat, if the weather interrupts, if the budget groans—none of it overturns the covenant love of God. The past tells you what to expect from the future: Jesus keeps his promises. He has come. He has overcome. And he is coming back.