As the first day of November is swept away along with piles of autumn leaves, I start thinking ahead to Christmas. Making lists of gifts to buy, planning what decorations to put up and when, and pondering festive menus, all while humming along to a Bing Crosby playlist. As November slips into December, I anticipate Christmas Day, the highlight of the holiday season. Spending time with family, exchanging gifts, savoring a slice of cheesecake at the end of Christmas dinner, sitting with cozy blankets on the couch watching It’s a Wonderful Life.
One Christmas Eve several years ago, we woke anticipating a day of baking and last-minute preparations, followed by attending our church’s candlelight service. Instead, we discovered that during a heavy snowfall in the middle of the night, a tree had cracked and hit a power line leaving us without electricity.
For our neighbors, this wasn’t much of a problem. They had a generator. We didn’t. No electricity meant a house slightly warmer than the North Pole, an oven that no longer functioned, no lights, and no running water. With outages widespread in our area, the electric company informed us that crews were working to restore power, but they didn’t know when it would be back on. Maybe late that night. Maybe the following day.
As this news sank in, our holiday plans began to crumble like old tinsel. Why, I thought, did this have to happen today? Couldn’t it have happened last week? Or in January? Why of all days, on Christmas Eve?
A friend offered to let us shower at her house and use her oven to bake the pies we’d prepared the day before. Later in the day, another friend who still had power offered to loan us their small generator to heat our winter-in-Michigan-is-freezing house. We picked up the generator, grabbed fast food for dinner, managed to make it to Christmas Eve service, and then returned home. Fumbling with flashlights in the dark garage, we finally got the generator hooked up after midnight. When Christmas morning dawned, the house was warm as we opened gifts. I don’t remember what we had for dinner, except for the pies baked in our friend’s oven, but it wasn’t what we’d planned. On December 26, late in the day, the power finally came back on.
This hasn’t been the only Christmas that hasn’t gone according to plan. Christmases past have found us making an unexpected trip to the emergency room, caring for my mom after her knee surgery a few days prior, and grieving the loss of grandparents.
When life doesn’t match our plans, our instinct is to feel frustrated and let down. When the unexpected happens around the holidays, these emotions seem to be amped up times ten. Maybe it’s because of the commercials, advertisements, Instagram posts, and movies that flood us with their definition of what Christmas is supposed to be. The gifts under the tree, the loving family, the glow of lights, the soft strains of familiar carols. Maybe it’s because, in Christmas, we’re searching for that little bit of perfect on earth.
This year of loss, cancellations, stress, fear, and echoing uncertainty has given us a resounding reprise of a familiar performance. That of life’s imperfections, brokenness, and often deeply painful realities.
If we seek our joy in the perfect execution of our carefully laid out plans, we’ll be left empty. If we find our peace in security, often we’ll be left anxious. If we place our hope in the fulfillment of our dreams for the holidays, often we’ll be left disappointed.
Because Christmas isn’t our hope.
Let that sink in.
Christmas isn’t our hope.
Jesus is.
Our hope isn’t found in a holiday worthy of a Hallmark movie. It isn’t even found in the togetherness of family.
Jesus is our hope, our joy, our peace, our comfort, and our security. On Christmas, we celebrate Him. The gift He gave us when He came to earth born of a young woman whose own plans were turned upside down. The salvation He brought us, giving us the assurance of a glorious eternity spent with Him. The promise He fulfilled as “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).
If your heart is weary this Christmas season, if you’re grieving loss, if you’re anxious about what the holidays will look like, center your heart on Jesus. Ask Him to fill you with His peace and to show you how to make this Christmas a meaningful reminder of Himself.
No matter what kind of holiday we have this year, let’s place our hope and find our joy in Him.
This Christmas, let’s celebrate Jesus.
Amand
a Barratt is the ECPA bestselling author of fifteen novels and novellas including The White Rose Resists: A Novel of the German Students Who Defied Hitler. Her latest release, Joy to the World: A Regency Christmas Collection, is a collection of three novellas set in Jane Austen’s England, written with authors Carolyn Miller and Erica Vetsch. She and her family live in northern Michigan. Connect with her on Facebook and visit her online.
