Christmas Eve: Love Made Visible
“And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory.” — John 1:14
It's Christmas Eve, once again. The moment before the moment, the last day of Advent.
Experience tells me that Christmas Eve is also a time when many of us scramble a bit. We may be waiting for packages to arrive, rushing to wrap presents, or making last-minute preparations to gather with family and friends.
Which is why tonight is so important.
It's why tonight we ought to find the space to push back against the tyranny of the urgent, and remember the story, our story.
On this holy night, the story reaches its luminous center: God does not remain distant. God draws near—tangible, vulnerable, breathing, crying, resting in the arms of humanity. Christmas is not sentiment or spectacle—it is Incarnation. Love made visible.
The manger is not merely a symbol of humility but of accessibility. The King of kings could have arrived in palaces or among the powerful, yet chose straw, shepherds, and obscurity. Why? Because love always chooses proximity over privilege.
Jesus did not come to persuade us that God loves us—He came because God already does. The birth in Bethlehem is not the beginning of God’s affection but its unveiling. Christ is the evidence that God refuses to abandon creation.
Mary held the mystery in her arms. Joseph watched redemption in swaddling clothes. Shepherds bowed before a Savior before they understood theology. Magi followed light toward Love’s embodiment. Heaven and earth converged in a child.
Where does this love need to become visible in you? Perhaps in forgiveness you resist extending, compassion you find challenging to offer, and patience you struggle to embody. Christmas grounds love in earth and flesh—it does not remain an idea. It takes on shape, touch, voice, sacrifice, and presence.
Tonight, let the manger invite you—into wonder, gratitude, and deeper trust. God has come close. Not because we know how to find Him, but because He knows how to find us.
The Light has arrived—not distant, but dwelling among us. Love is here—cradled, revealed, and still being born anew in us. Christmas is not only history—it is an invitation. Let Christ be born in you.
Prayer
Incarnate God, thank You for coming near. On this holy night, awaken our hearts to wonder, soften our spirits to receive Your love, and make Your presence real to us again. Let the mystery of the manger shape us—teaching us humility, tenderness, courage, and grace. Be born in us so that Your love becomes visible through our lives. Amen.
Reflection Questions
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How does Christ’s nearness in the Incarnation speak into where you most need God to show up today?
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Where is love inviting you to take shape—in attitude, relationship, or action?
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What does it mean for you personally to let Christ be “born in you” this Christmas?

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