CHRISTMAS REMINDS US OF WHAT IS IMPORTANT
Christmas comes to us quietly—often beneath the noise we ourselves create. Lights flicker, songs repeat, schedules fill; yet beneath all of it stands a Child, wrapped not in splendor but in swaddling cloths.
Heaven chose humility.
God chose nearness.
And Christmas reminds us, gently but firmly, of what truly matters.
“For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; and the government will be upon His shoulder” (Isaiah 9:6). Not a general, not a philosopher seated in marble halls—but a Child.
The weight of the world resting on shoulders small enough to fit in a manger. Christmas tells us at once that power is not what we think it is; greatness looks like gentleness, and glory wears the face of love.
We are reminded that presence matters more than possessions. “And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7).
No room.
Yet Heaven was not offended.
God did not wait for better accommodations.
He entered where He was least expected. Christmas exposes our priorities—how easily we make room for everything except the One who gives us life.
Christmas also reminds us that God keeps His promises. “But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman” (Galatians 4:4). Centuries of silence, generations of longing, prophets who spoke and died without seeing the day—and yet, at exactly the right moment, God acted. What feels delayed to us is never forgotten by Him.
We are reminded that the Gospel is for ordinary people. “Then the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people’” (Luke 2:10).
Shepherds heard the announcement first—men whose hands smelled of sheep, whose lives were lived under open skies and quiet obscurity. Christmas declares that good news does not begin in palaces but in fields, not among the powerful but among the overlooked.
Christmas reminds us that love moves toward need. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son” (John 3:16). Love gives. Love crosses distance. Love enters darkness rather than shouting at it from afar. The incarnation is not merely doctrine—it is divine pursuit. God did not send instructions; He sent Himself.
And Christmas reminds us that peace is found not in circumstances but in Christ. “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men” (Luke 2:14).
Rome still ruled.
Poverty still existed.
Suffering had not ended.
Yet peace had arrived—because Jesus had come. The world did not change overnight, but everything was forever different.
So Christmas gently reorders us. It teaches us to slow down, to listen again, to treasure what cannot be wrapped or bought. “But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19).
In a season that urges haste, the Word invites reflection. In a world that measures worth by excess, Christmas points us to a manger and says, This is enough.
What is important?
God with us (Matthew 1:23).
Love embodied.
Promises fulfilled.
Sinners welcomed.
Hope born in the dark.
This is Christmas.
Lord Jesus, draw our hearts back to the manger—strip away what distracts us, quiet what overwhelms us, and teach us again what truly matters. Be our peace, our joy, and our treasure, this Christmas and always. Amen.
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BDD
