Read

John 1:14 “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

Think

Christmas morning. The gifts are wrapped (or torn open), the lights glow softly, and the house smells like something warm. But beneath all of it—beneath the traditions and the celebration—is the heart of the story: love came near.

John doesn’t describe the manger or the angels. He doesn’t mention Mary, Joseph, or the shepherds. Instead, he gives us the theology of Christmas in one sweeping sentence: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” It’s the miracle behind every carol, every candlelight service, every nativity scene. God moved in.

The God who created time stepped into time. The One who spoke galaxies into existence entered the cries of a newborn. The Word didn’t just send instructions—he became a person. Not distant, not demanding, but dwelling. The word used here—skēnoō in Greek—literally means “to pitch a tent” or “to tabernacle.” It’s the same language used in the Old Testament when God’s presence filled the tabernacle in the wilderness. Now, that same presence fills flesh and bones. Jesus became the new meeting place between heaven and earth.

That’s what we celebrate today: love put on skin and walked among us.

Not love as a vague idea. Not love as a good intention. Love as a person. Jesus didn’t come because we finally got it right—he came because we couldn’t. He didn’t show up because we deserved it—he showed up because grace always moves first.

This kind of love is more than emotion. It’s incarnation. It’s God saying, “I’m not staying far away.” And when love takes up residence, everything changes.

Think about who Jesus spent time with. The broken. The overlooked. The outsiders. The sinners. He didn’t come for the polished or the perfect. He came for the people who knew they needed help. That’s what makes the gospel such good news: it isn’t about us working our way to God—it’s about God coming all the way to us.

Love has come, and love keeps coming. Into our confusion, our fear, our striving, our sorrow. Into our celebrations and our disappointments. Into our loud dinners and our quiet loneliness. Into every place we didn’t think God would go.

The love of God is not small. It’s not fragile. It’s not sentimental. It’s fierce, real, and deeply personal. And today, in the middle of the wrapping paper and music and meals, that love is still present.

Maybe today feels full of joy—or maybe it feels complicated. Maybe your table has an empty seat. Maybe your heart feels stretched. Maybe you’re grateful but tired. Whatever your Christmas looks like, the invitation is the same: come and see the love that moved toward you.

John says, “We have seen his glory.” That glory isn’t just about majesty—it’s about mercy. It’s not cold or distant. It’s full of grace and truth. And it’s not reserved for the religious elite. It’s visible in Jesus—the friend of sinners, the healer of wounds, the Prince of Peace.

The beauty of Christmas is not just that Jesus came once. It’s that he’s still Emmanuel—God with us. He’s with you now. In the joy. In the noise. In the quiet. In the mess. In the moments that feel like glory and the ones that don’t.

So let this day be more than tradition. Let it be a reminder. Love came for you. Not the version of you that you try to clean up—but the real you. The tired you. The searching you. The hopeful you. The doubting you. The grateful you.

And that love? It doesn’t run out. It doesn’t wear thin. It doesn’t need to be repackaged next year. It’s the love that laid in a manger and walked to a cross. The love that broke through death and still breaks through hardness and fear and shame. The love that holds you now, wherever you are.

This is why we sing. Why we worship. Why we celebrate. Not just because a child was born—but because God came close, and love will never be the same.

Apply

Pause at some point today—whether it’s in the quiet of the morning or after the dishes are done—and read John 1:14 aloud. Let the words sink in. Then take 60 seconds to thank Jesus, specifically, for the ways his love has shown up in your life this year.

Pray

Jesus, thank you for coming near. Thank you for not waiting until I got it right. Thank you for being love in a way I can see, hear, and know. Fill my heart with wonder today. Let your presence shape everything—how I speak, how I love, how I see others. Thank you for being with me, today and always. In Jesus’ name. Amen.