When Christmas Feels Just Out of Reach + A Christmas Blessing

Sometimes at Christmas, our best intentions are unattainable.
Sometimes at Christmas, our expectations feel just out of reach.

And sometimes, instead of peace, we find ourselves flooded by feelings—grief, disappointment, fatigue, longing—that make it difficult to locate the Prince of Peace in these days. The lights are up. The songs are playing. The calendar is full. And yet, something in us still feels unsettled.

If that’s where you find yourself this season, I want you to know something clearly.

Whether you’re standing on what feels like the highest hill or walking through what feels like the darkest valley, there are a few things worth holding onto—truths that have anchored God’s people since the very first Christmas.

First, God is not mad, disappointed, or frustrated with you.
He never has been. He is—and always has been—pursuing you, not to shame you, but to point you toward flourishing. Toward the life He desires and designed you to experience. A life marked by vibrancy, wholeness, and hope.

Christmas is the clearest reminder that this is still true. God did not wait for the world to get itself together. He entered it as it was—messy, broken, and longing—because love moves toward, not away.

Second, if this season feels quieter than you expected, remember that silence is not absence.
For the people of God, there were four hundred years of silence before the Christmas story broke through. Generations prayed. Generations waited. And still, God was at work—preparing hearts, setting the stage, moving history toward redemption.

Just because you don’t hear a response doesn’t mean there isn’t reception. God promises to hear our cries and our callings. And when He speaks, His voice doesn’t simply answer questions—it reshapes hearts. It prepares us to carry what He is about to entrust to us.

Be prepared when He calls. His invitations often change us before they change the world.

Third, the good news is still good.
It was good news over two thousand years ago, and it is still good news today. It still frees. It still restores. It still reminds us that God is working all things together—even when we can’t yet see how.

The good news that pierced the darkness of that first Christmas continues to pursue us like the smallest candle in the darkest room. Move toward it, and you begin to see that darkness does not have the final word. Light still spreads. Hope still takes root. Mountains still move.

So in this season, my hope and prayer is not that everything turns out the way you want it to.
Not that every longing is met or every ache is resolved.

But that the Prince of Peace would meet you where you are.

To be with you in the midst of it.
To see you through it.
To build something steady in you while you walk through the thick of it.
And to shine forward—even when the clouds haven’t yet lifted.

Christmas does not promise an easy path.
It promises a present God.

A Christmas Blessing

May the peace of Christ meet you in the middle of your real life this Christmas.
May hope find you, even if quietly.
And may you know—deep in your bones—that you are not alone, not forgotten, and not beyond the reach of God’s love.

Merry Christmas.