When Christmas feels loud and your heart feels tired

There are seasons when Christmas arrives softly, and there are some seasons when it arrives already carrying some weight. The Christmas story from Scripture (Luke 2) opens with some movement, and a lot of pressure and obligation. A decree goes out. People are forced to travel. Mary is pregnant and uncomfortable while traveling nearly 100 miles, and she finds herself significantly displaced as a young, first-time mom. Nothing about this moment is calm nor curated. It is extremely demanding before it is intimately holy. And yet……this is exactly where God chooses to arrive. Jesus is born not into quiet, but into complexity. Not into ease, but into expectation. There is no room prepared for Him. There are no boundaries protecting Mary from exhaustion or opinion or interruption. Still, God is present and actively working in both Mary and Joseph’s lives. What stands out to me in this story is not just what happens but how Mary chooses to respond. While angels announce and shepherds rush and people talk, Mary does something countercultural:

“Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19)

She does not explain (...I don't blame her, it's kind of hard to explain God's incoming miracle). She does not perform or aim to meet everyone's expectations. She does not manage everyone else’s emotions. She holds the moment while remaining quietly prayerful. There is wisdom here for us. You can love deeply without carrying everything. You can show up without  being consumed. You can be present without  surrendering your peace. Scripture tells us that the shepherds return “glorifying and praising God.” Everyone processes this moment differently, and that’s all good. Mary’s way is not loud, but it is incredibly faithful. And perhaps……this is where Christmas gently asks us a question of our own: Is this a season to be more like Mary……or more like Martha? So often, we default to Martha, who from my lens, was very busy and attentive (yet also well-intentioned), and seemed to always find herself carrying the invisible weight of making everything *just right.* And there is goodness in service. But Christmas invites something deeper. Christmas invites us to sit, or as I was reminded recently by Kevin McCallister from Home Alone, this season invites us to “hang around.” It invites us to notice, and maybe we even see something differently than we’ve seen it year after year. And as per usual, Christmas invites us to receive. Mary (the mother of Jesus) experienced Christmas not through production, but through presence. She saw God’s work unfolding slowly, imperfectly, quietly, and humbly. She trusted that what God was doing did not require her constant effort or the approval of others (remember, she’s a pregnant, teenage virgin….). It only required her steadfast and attentive heart. What might change if we allowed ourselves to see Christmas through her eyes? To notice where God is moving instead of where we feel behind. To witness rather than manage. To believe that God’s work does not depend on us to push ourselves to exhaustion. When we seek to share that vision — Mary’s vision and/or God’s vision — we often discover unexpected parallels in our own lives. Moments that once felt heavy begin to feel holy. Situations we cannot fix become places where we recognize God is already at work. Christmas does not ask you to fix your family. It does not require you to absorb loneliness or unresolved trauma that isn’t yours to heal. It does not demand emotional overextension in the name of love. Sometimes the holiest thing you can do is treasure and ponder, and to let God do His work while you guard your heart. Jesus came as the Prince of Peace. He did not come as the manager of chaos. And He still comes gently, even when the room is full and messier than a manger stall.

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And a gentle, shameless nudge to actually show up this Christmas

If Mary can travel nearly 100 miles while pregnant, displaced, exhausted, and uncertain, I would like to believe that you can probably manage a 10-minute drive to church today or tomorrow. Christmas Eve is not about production or perfection. It is about presence. So yes — politely get your butt in a seat.

Bring your family. If you don’t have family nearby, invite a co-worker or a friend. And if getting there feels like (or physically is) too much right now, that’s okay too! Watching online is a great option if you’re unable to get out and about with others. 

My church offers a livestream option and nearly a dozen service times between Christmas “Eve” Eve (today, the 23rd) and Christmas Eve itself.  You can find all service times and the livestream here: www.lutheranchurchofhope.org/christmas

The most faithful step isn’t always doing more. It’s often just showing up and allowing God to meet you right where you’re at. Wherever that may be, He knows.

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A simple closing prayer

Lord, Help me to love without losing myself. Teach me when to step forward and when to be still. Let me treasure what is mine to hold, and encourage me to trust You with what is not. Let every heart prepare Him room this Christmas season. Allow us to envision a glimpse of Your perspective as to what the first Noel looked like, both literally and figuratively. Show us what that could look like, in our homes and in our hearts, through what Jesus’ sacrifice then and His presence now have given us, which far exceeds the presents under the tree, be they many or few. Root us in gratitude. Anchor us in Your peace. Help us to receive this season not with striving, but with wonder. May we notice You where You are already at work, and rest in the truth that You are enough. Amen.