When Christmas Hurts

Some nights in December feel heavier

than the rest of the year ...

as if the silence itself has weight.

As if the world’s bright lights only reveal what has gone missing.

There are chairs that sit empty.

Names we whisper only to God.

Hopes we once held that slipped

quietly through our fingers.

And in those moments, when the ache swells

like a cold tide in the chest,

you might wonder why Christmas comes at all.

But this is the exact place ... this trembling, hollow place ...

where the Great Love steps in.

Not with fanfare. Not with noise.

But with the quietest arrival the universe has ever known:

God becoming breakable.

God entering our sorrow by becoming small enough

to hold in shaking hands.

This is the love that leans into your grief,

sits beside you in the dark, and refuses to leave.

A love vast enough to hold every ache,

yet gentle enough to rest against your shoulder as you cry.

You are not weak for hurting this Christmas.

You are not forgotten. You are not unseen.

The Prince of Peace comes precisely to the brokenhearted ...

and His love, deeper than the deepest sorrow,

is still making its way toward you.

Even now. Even here.