[The Holy Spirit] fills our hearts and teaches us how nothing can satisfy our longings except God Himself. He keeps us so that we can keep Christmas all year long.
Most of us spend part of the Christmas season hoping for a moment of a connection with God.
Deep down, at some point, while stuck in traffic or waiting in an endless line at Target, we recognize the empty distraction of the hustle and bustle. The futility of heart that comes from shopping and checking off our to-do lists and stuffing both the stockings and the turkey. None of those things are wrong or sinful by themselves—they are the necessary preparations for the holiday. There’s plenty of goodness and joy to be found in creating a meal for our families and purchasing gifts for our children to open on Christmas morning. Those are wonderful traditions!
But eventually, we realize that we prepped the tree for presents but never prepped our hearts for His Presence. And while our stomachs are full of Christmas cookies and green bean casserole, our spirits are empty and starving. We’ve missed something that was never written on our list.
Waiting for the "God Moment"
I know for me, there’s an occasion every year when I remember to stop, breathe, and ask God to give me that moment with Him. A minute to feel the real meaning of Christmas. In those prayers, I feel a little needy but mostly just filled with wonder and anticipation because He always comes through with an answer. It’s not usually right then. But I know to start watching for it and to open my heart to receive Him that holiday in a fresh way.
It puts the real reason for the season back on my radar and gives my soul a break from the commercialism of the holiday.
One Christmas, that coveted moment occurred while watching my elementary-aged daughter, dressed in a flowing white leotard and skirt, perform an interpretative dance at our church’s Christmas Eve service. Tears pressed my eyes as my heart swelled with joy and wonder. Another year it was watching her as a teenager sing her first public solo of "O Come Emmanuel," while her good friend strummed guitar and a hushed congregation whispered along. And yet another year, it happened with an overwhelming feeling of being “seen” as I stared into an inky Christmas Eve sky full of stars and pondered what that first Christmas night must have been like so long ago.
This year, my “moment” looked a little different than it had in the past.
Christmas night, after all our extended family had left, my kids and husband, and I piled up to watch a Christmas movie. There was a new one we’d not seen yet showing on one of our streaming services, so we thought we’d give it a try. It sounded fun—an epic adventure of a boy and his mouse journeying to save his father during the holidays. Lots of snow and elves and special effects…what could go wrong?
My spirit felt a little dry going into the movie, and I breathed a prayer for the Lord to speak to me through the story. I love allegory, which is why movies like "The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe" and "Lord of the Rings" can well deep emotion inside me until I feel I might burst with praise and worship. This happens often for me with books and movies, so I had big expectations of the Lord giving me my “moment” while watching this cute family flick.
Halfway through the movie, I realized that wasn’t going to happen. The movie, while starting out strong and with a lot of potential, fell flat quickly and then actually became depressing. In the show, the town needed hope, so the boy began making and delivering toys. And that was it. There was no allegory for my weary heart to find. Just a simple worldly message: Joy = consumerism.
Happiness = stuff.
The movie ended and my spirit felt more down than ever. The emptiness the film offered was contagious. The movie had no true hope—just like the world without Christ.
The kids went to bed, and I told my husband, “I feel like we missed Christmas.”
I was burdened by the weight of realizing that while we’d had a great day full of presents, laughter, holiday treats, and family time, we’d done nothing that centered directly around Christ. Everything felt surface-level and commercial, and now it was over.
My husband knew exactly what I was talking about and felt much the same. We discussed it, wondering what we could do differently next year to have more intentional time focusing on Christ and on advent rather than getting caught up in all the busy. We were over-sugared and overwhelmed. We were sad.
We felt like parenting failures.
Then I looked at him and said, “You know what? The night isn’t over.”
Christmas Year-Round
We called the kids back downstairs from bed and told them everything we’d been discussing. We brought them into the conversation and asked what they thought and felt. What ideas they had for next year to be more advent-focused.
We confessed how the movie provided evidence that nothing outside of Christ fulfills our souls. That good food and presents and family time are blessings, but all that can still leave us feeling hollow when not accompanied by connection with the Holy Spirit.
He alone can fill and sustain and satisfy.
And even though this year my kids are twelve and fourteen years old and know all about the real meaning of the holiday season, we talked about it anyway—because it’s good to preach the Gospels to ourselves. Talking to our kids before bed about the importance of learning life lessons about contentment now that they can carry into adulthood was beautiful and unplanned and priceless.
It was my moment.
May I remind you this holiday season—it’s not too late?
Consider this quote from Charles Dickens in his famous holiday novel, "A Christmas Carol." It was spoken by the character of now-reformed Scrooge after his ghostly visits. “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me.’’
Christmas is celebrated as a day, but it’s also a heart posture. It’s remembering Christ and keeping Him close all year long, not just on December 25th. All that time we spend as parents, hoping to honor God in the days leading up to Christmas? We can do that in January, too. And February. And in March!
Just like Scrooge got a second chance to change his ways and start living the way he should, so can we. We don’t have to wait a full calendar year to “get it right.” We can, right now, on this very day, start honoring Christmas in our hearts. Not the day of the year, but the Person.
I’m not certain of Charles Dicken’s spiritual state, chosen denomination, or theology—but I know that there is much allegory to be gleaned (intentionally or otherwise) from his ending line: “The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me.”
As believers, we have the Trinity guiding us all year round—and thankfully, we don’t need scary visits from ghosts dragging us into the past, present, and future to convict us! We just need the Holy Spirit to convict us into remembering Him. He’s an active member of the Trinity alongside God the Father and Jesus the Son, and that’s His specialty.
Luke 11:13 (ESV) "If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”
John 14:25-26 (ESV) “These things I have spoken to you while I am still with you. 26 But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you."
The Holy Spirit is with us every day of the year, and He leads us as parents, as singles, as spouses. He fills our hearts and teaches us how nothing can satisfy our longings except God Himself.
He keeps us so that we can keep Christmas all year long.
Photo Credit: ©Getty Images/Guasor
