When I was a kid, Christmas was magic.
Not because of Jesus—because of anticipation.
I waited all year for something unbelievable to happen.
Presents. Wonder. Proof that life was good.
Something that could fix an ache I didn’t know I had.
And then the day came…
and it never matched the build-up.
It couldn’t.
But the expectations have stayed.
Even as an adult, I still feel that quiet sadness—
the sense that Christmas should deliver something
it was never built to deliver.
And here’s what I keep circling back to:
Christmas isn’t magical because it fulfills our expectations.
It’s magical because it upends them.
A crying baby.
A frightened mother.
A nowhere town.
Starlight for the poor.
Angels showing up where nobody was looking.
Not a show—but a surprising interruption.
Not what we wanted—but something we’ve never seen before—bigger, bolder, beyond anything our expectations could hold.
Maybe the reason Christmas never lives up to the hype
is because the hype was too small in the first place.
Maybe we were trained to want presents
when God is pointing to a whole new cosmos.
And maybe the sadness we feel each year
isn’t disappointment at all.
Maybe it’s a reminder
that we were made for something big
we can’t fully grasp—
not yet.
A taste.
A hint.
A crack of light.
Something so much bigger
than presents or nostalgia—
bigger than understanding—
pressing in from the edges of the dark.
Still arriving.
Still being born.
Romans 8:22–23 (NRSV):
We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now;
and not only the creation, but we ourselves… while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.
Holy One,
You know the weight of our expectations,
the ache of what never quite arrives,
and the quiet sadness we carry into holy days.
Meet us in the longing—not with easy answers,
but with presence.
Give us courage to release what cannot save us,
and openness to the mystery still being born.
Let the light that slips through the cracks
steady our steps,
soften our hearts,
and make room in us for wonder again.
Amen.
What expectation of Christmas did you inherit that never worked?
What still hurts when the holiday fails to deliver?
What do you secretly hope God will fix for you?
Where does sadness show up in December?
What would it look like to welcome something new?
When was the last time you felt wonder instead of pressure?
What are you ready to stop pretending about Christmas?
If you’re willing, tell me where Christmas has surprised you—or let you down.
My book, The Lie That Kills Us: We All Have Elephants is available now: Amazon
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