"The Gift that Breathes in Morning Light" - 12/25/25

Last night on Christmas Eve, we gathered in the sanctuary with bright lights, beautiful trees, and a warmth that felt truly sacred and expectant. The music was offered with such care, scripture was read so well, and the meditative readings gave us space to breathe and listen. Then we shared candlelight, passing the flame from hand to hand, and it felt like the whole room was glowing with hope. I am deeply thankful for our musicians, our readers, and everyone who served behind the scenes to make that night so meaningful.

And now Christmas morning is here. Kids are up early and can hardly wait to open their gifts. Homes are filling with laughter, family time, and those little moments that make the day feel rich, whether it is breakfast together, a phone call to someone far away, or plans to travel and be with loved ones. The joy looks different in each home, but it is here, breaking in with the morning light.


Scripture
“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”
- John 1:14a (NIV)


Reflection
The hush of Christmas Eve has opened into the sounds of Christmas morning. The candles may be out, yet their glow seems to remain within us. Something holy came near in the night, not only in Bethlehem long ago, but also in sanctuaries and homes, in gathered hearts and shared worship. Christ has come, and the world feels gently changed.

Today, joy is not an idea held at a distance. It takes on shape and warmth. It is heard in children’s laughter as paper is torn away. It is found in a quiet prayer offered before breakfast. It is carried in familiar songs, even when they are sung imperfectly. The wonder of Christmas is not that everything is flawless. The wonder is that Jesus is born into what is real, into our tiredness and gratitude, into our celebration and our needs, into every complicated corner of human life.

John speaks of the light that has come into the world. The Greek word is φῶς (phōs, light), a light that does more than brighten a room. It reveals. It heals. It helps the heart see what is true. This light does not depend on our mood or our circumstances. It reaches the homes full of laughter and the homes holding sorrow. It reaches the hearts that feel full and the hearts that ache with missing.

Christmas Day is more than a treasured tradition. It is God choosing nearness. It is the quiet miracle of Emmanuel, God with us, made present in ordinary moments. Heaven touches earth in the sacred story, and also in the shared meal, the gentle embrace, the patience offered, the small peace that settles where anxiety once stirred.

So the day becomes a kind of sanctuary. Christ is not only remembered but received. The light has come, and it remains.


Prayer
God of Bethlehem,
Thank you for the Word made flesh, for love choosing nearness.
Let Christmas joy rest upon every home, and let comfort be near those who carry sorrow today.
Bless the gifts offered in worship and the quiet gifts offered in kitchens and living rooms.
May the light of Christ dwell with your people, steady and kind.  Amen.