The older I get, the less likely I am to making sweeping statements that draw black and white moral lines.

Maybe that’s because I’ve reversed my position so many times, and I hate eating crow. But, let’s be honest, if we aren’t learning and growing and changing, then we’re probably dead.

I have blogged many times about grief being a major catalyst for change—the deeper the loss, the closer to your core grief is able to shift your perspective. And one of the biggest shifts loss has worked in my own perspective is to both broaden it to see what’s really important, and to focus on those important things while shaking off what isn’t.

That’s rather ephemeral, so let me get specific.

I gave my life to Christ when I was fifteen, and I was both fervent in my devotion and in my efforts to express that devotion in ways I believed were appropriate. I got rid of all music and books that I believed were likely to take my thoughts away from a worshipful state. I eschewed watching movies that fell into the same category. I did my best to live a life worthy of the grace I had received.

So when I learned of the pagan origins of Christmas in my early twenties while pregnant with my first child, after much wrestling with my emotional attachment to the holiday, we stopped celebrating it. Fortunately, my husband is equally as devoted to living a godly life as I am. He didn’t have the same conviction about Christmas I did, but he went along with it because he was honouring my beliefs and he did see my point.

I, like so many people in the world, have a certainty-seeking personality. Not many of us can accept how little about our own lives we can control, and some of us have a harder time than others. I am a rule-follower, because following rules and strictures has been a proven way to navigate through life’s dangers most of the time. The problem is when we adhere to rules instead of the intent behind them. Christ even chided his own disciples for this.

My personality hasn’t really changed. Thank God, my perspective certainly has—because grief shows us that no amount of certainty-seeking will truly give us control of our lives.

Starting with several losses in 2015, I began to absorb the meaning of verses such as “what I desire is mercy, not sacrifice,” (Hosea 6;6) and “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matt. 22: 37-40 NIV)

Because of my beliefs, I spent many years being angry at Christmas, and at Christians who perpetuated Jesus as the “reason for the season.” I mean, there’s no getting around the fact that Jesus wasn’t born on December 25, it was a holiday meant to celebrate the return of the sun—which was worshiped as a god in many religions—to the northern hemisphere. And that many of the traditions associated with Christmas are directly traceable to pagan traditions, which many pagans still celebrate with reverence today.

(But, with the truly human ability to accept conflicting dual realities, I bore no hesitation continuing to use the common names of the days of the week, most of whom were named after Norse or Roman gods, and the months of the year that had the same origins.

But I digress.)

I have gone through many phases on my walk with God, and every choice I made was out of a desire to express my worship in a way that was pleasing to him. From my upbringing in a very rule-focused denomination to my early adult years in a charismatic church, I saw the gamut of how people expressed worship. But it took me a long time to realize that it’s not the expression of worship that matters most to God, it’s the intent behind it.

Isaiah 58 (NIRV):

The Lord told me,

“Shout out loud. Do not hold back.
    Raise your voice like a trumpet.
Tell my people that they have refused to obey me.
    Tell the family of Jacob how much they have sinned.
2 Day after day they worship me.
    They seem ready and willing to know how I want them to live.
They act as if they were a nation that does what is right.
    They act as if they have not turned away from my commands.
They claim to want me to give them fair decisions.
    They seem ready and willing to come near and worship me.
3 ‘We have gone without food,’ they say.
    ‘Why haven’t you noticed it?
We have made ourselves suffer.
    Why haven’t you paid any attention to us?’

“On the day when you fast, you do as you please.
    You take advantage of all your workers.
4 When you fast, it ends in arguing and fighting.
    You hit one another with your fists.
    That is an evil thing to do.
The way you are now fasting
    keeps your prayers from being heard in heaven.
5 Do you think that is the way I want you to fast?
    Is it only a time for people to make themselves suffer?
Is it only for people to bow their heads like tall grass bent by the wind?
    Is it only for people to lie down in ashes and clothes of mourning?
Is that what you call a fast?
    Do you think I can accept that?

6 “Here is the way I want you to fast.

“Set free those who are held by chains without any reason.
    Untie the ropes that hold people as slaves.
Set free those who are crushed.
    Break every evil chain.
7 Share your food with hungry people.
    Provide homeless people with a place to stay.
Give naked people clothes to wear.
    Provide for the needs of your own family.
8 Then the light of my blessing will shine on you like the rising sun.
    I will heal you quickly.
I will march out ahead of you.
    And my glory will follow behind you and guard you.
    That’s because I always do what is right.
9 You will call out to me for help.
    And I will answer you.
You will cry out.
    And I will say, ‘Here I am.’

“Get rid of the chains you use to hold others down.
    Stop pointing your finger at others as if they had done something wrong.
    Stop saying harmful things about them.
10 Work hard to feed hungry people.
    Satisfy the needs of those who are crushed.
Then my blessing will light up your darkness.
    And the night of your suffering will become as bright as the noonday sun.

(Emphasis mine.)

Grief changed how I looked at Christmas. I began to see how little it mattered that the traditions associated with it were borrowed from paganism—the significance of a symbol is the significance you give it. (That’s because stories are so very powerful.)

Not only that, God will use anything—and I do mean anything—in order to accomplish his primary purpose, which is to bring us into relationship with him. Which is probably why Christmas has become a time of year when so many people are willing to at least talk about Jesus and the beliefs of Christianity, even if they don’t ascribe to them themselves. And here in the north, the beauty and light and joy of the holiday is a true balm in the middle of a long, dark season. I believe God is love and the source of joy, and if the holiday brings joy to so many and is known as a time of love and family, how could I continue to resent it?

If God doesn’t waste Christmas, why was I?

So, while I’d softened toward the idea of Christmas over the last several years, it wasn’t until the emotional darkness of these pandemic times that we actually embraced bringing the light-filled traditions of Christmas back into our home.

This year, we celebrated Christmas for the first time in eighteen years. It was simple. It was lovely. And it was perfect.

Unfortunately, just as God sanctifies the broken and unholy, evil twists the beautiful and holy. While this is a happy time of year for many, it is not for all, and especially those that have experienced loss. In this time where our entire world is experiencing grief and uncertainty on a scale unprecedented in our generation, there are probably many struggling with the holidays like never before.

When my sister asked me why we got a Christmas tree, I said “To bring some joy into this crap-tastic year.” But while the tree was beautiful, and I enjoyed the twinkling lights for the past month, it wasn’t the tree itself that brought the most joy, but the reminder that God brings beauty into the darkest and most uncertain times. He never leaves us, nor forsakes us. And he is in the business of making the broken beautiful.

I hope this season brought a similar reminder to you. Even if you are missing loved ones or your financial situation is difficult or you don’t even celebrate Christmas, remember that you are not alone. These are difficult times, friend, but there is still joy to be found, if you look for it. While Jesus didn’t come at Christmas, he did come, and he is still our Emmanuel, which means “God with us.”

God bless, my friend. I hope you had a merry Christmas, and I wish you a very happy New Year.

ICYMI: My short story All I Want for Christmas will be free until January 2. Click here to check it out, or search on your favourite platform.