As a child, Christmas felt like pure magic. The anticipation, the gatherings, the mountains of food, and the seemingly endless supply of presents, it all seemed to appear effortlessly, as though the season itself carried a kind of enchantment. Family filled the house, laughter echoed through the rooms, and the entire world seemed to sparkle with joy.
But as we grow, we start to see what lies behind the curtain. The magic of Christmas, as it turns out, isn’t effortless at all. We come to realise the countless hours spent planning, shopping, cooking, and preparing, all to create those moments that felt so natural and carefree. Christmas, I learned, isn’t magic; it’s work.
That realization changed things for me. As I got older and began to take on more responsibility during the holidays, I found myself longing for the wonder I felt as a child, a feeling that I couldn’t seem to recreate. The joy I had known seemed tied to a time when I was blissfully unaware of the effort behind it all.
By the time I became a follower of Jesus at 17, Christmas had already started to lose its shine. The curtain was fully drawn back, and I could see not only the effort but the stress, the pressure my family and others faced to deliver yet another “perfect” holiday. Gifts grew more expensive, meals more elaborate, and expectations higher with each passing year. The weight of it all seemed to dim the joy.
It was during this time, though, that I began to discover the true meaning of Christmas.
The Light in the Darkness
At its heart, Christmas is not about perfection. It’s not about lavish meals or piles of presents or homes filled with laughter. Christmas is about light breaking into the darkness. It’s about hope when everything feels hopeless. It’s about the gift of God’s love, offered to a weary world.
This stands in stark contrast to the way Christmas is often portrayed in our culture. Think of the holiday adverts we see each year, like those from Marks & Spencer or John Lewis. They depict scenes of impossibly perfect holidays: beautifully decorated homes, families that are always happy and together, tables overflowing with food.
But these adverts are a fantasy. They present a version of Christmas that is out of reach for many, and, frankly, out of touch with reality. They leave no room for the struggles, stresses, and sorrows that so many of us feel at this time of year.
For those who are grieving, for those who are lonely, for those who feel the weight of the world on their shoulders, this version of Christmas can feel isolating. It can make us feel like there’s no place for sadness in this season, as though we’re failing if we’re not constantly joyful.
But that’s not the Christmas story.
A Christmas for the Weary
The true message of Christmas is for those who feel the weight of life. It’s for those walking through dark valleys, carrying burdens too heavy to bear. It’s for those who mourn and those who long for hope.
The Bible doesn’t shy away from the realities of life’s hardships. Psalm 23, a scripture often read at funerals, speaks directly to these experiences:
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” (Psalm 23:4)
This psalm acknowledges the darkness we all face at some point in life—the loss of loved ones, the pain of grief, the shadows that fall over our lives. But it also promises something extraordinary: God’s presence with us in the midst of it all.
Jesus echoes this promise in the New Testament, saying:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)
These words remind us that Christmas isn’t about pretending everything is okay. It’s about finding hope and light in the midst of life’s messiness and sorrow.
Lighting Candles of Hope
This is why we light candles at Christmas. Each flame represents a light in the darkness, a reminder that even in our most difficult moments, hope is not lost. For many of us, these candles also symbolise loved ones who are no longer with us, people who brought light into our lives and whose absence we feel deeply, especially during the holidays.
When we light these candles, we are reminded that their light still burns within us, just as the light of Christ continues to shine in the darkest corners of our lives.
Christmas doesn’t belong to those who feel like the holiday adverts accurately represent their experience. It belongs to those who carry grief, who feel the ache of loss, who walk through the valley of shadows. Christmas is for those who need the light of Christ most desperately.
A Christmas of Rest and Renewal
If you feel sadness or emptiness this Christmas, that’s okay. You don’t need to force joy or pretend to feel something you don’t. The heart of Christmas isn’t about creating the “perfect” holiday; it’s about receiving the gift of light, hope, and love that Jesus offers.
So this Christmas, I encourage you to give yourself permission to simply be. To mourn, if you need to. To rest. To reflect. And to remember that the true meaning of Christmas is found not in perfection, but in the promise that even in the darkest moments, we are not alone.
May the light of Christ shine in your life this season, and may you find comfort in his unchanging love.

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