The Christ of Christmas

God with us. Not God after we have it together, not God once the noise settles or the grief resolves, but God here, in the mess and the hurry, in homes where joy and sorrow share the same table. Advent dares us to believe that Emmanuel does not wait for ideal conditions. He enters real ones.

Emmanuel is found in the ordinary and easily overlooked: the quiet flicker of a Christmas candle, lights strung in celebration, ornaments hung on the tree with great care and fond memories. The familiar aroma of a favorite meal, the laughter that rises unexpectedly and reminds us we are still alive. These are not distractions from holiness; they are places where God chooses to dwell. Small moments become thin places when we slow enough to notice.

The gift of Christmas is not wrapped in spectacle or certainty, but in vulnerability: swaddling clothes, a borrowed manger, a child who comes needing care. God’s nearness is gentle and unforced, inviting rather than demanding. Christ comes not to rescue us from our humanity, but to enter it fully.

To receive the Christ of Christmas is to open our hands to a presence already among us. It is to trust that God has come to be with us, right where we are, as we are — and that this nearness is itself the beginning of peace. Peace be with you... Pkes

What if the clearest gift of Emmanuel this Christmas is in slowing down enough to notice where God is already with you?