The more I desire to write and endeavor to understand the mystery of Christ’s Incarnation, the more I find myself standing where Athanasius once stood—humbled, aware that my words are found wanting under the weight of glory they attempt to communicate. He confessed that the deeper he pressed into the Divinity of the Word, the more it withdrew from his grasp, and that even what he managed to write was only “the imperfect shadow of the truth” he perceived. I feel that same tension every time I attempt to communicate from my personal and ministry context.—The reality of God becoming man, The Eternally Existent One stepping into time, the Creator entering His creation—exceeds my language, intellect, and expression.
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS HAS COME AND GONE.
As my family scurried to clean up the décor the Sunday after Christmas, I found myself lingering. For years, I had led my family through Advent worship—marking the weeks prior to Christmas Day with hope, peace, joy, and love. We remembered how Christ came, what His appearing accomplished, and why His birth mattered. And yet, year after year, something felt unfinished. As we took down ornaments and lights, wrapped the holly and evergreen garlands, disassembled the Christmas trees, and boxed away the nativity, the wreaths, the candles, the bells, the angels, the stars—I realized why.
ADVENT WAS NEVER MEANT TO END AT THE MANGER.
Many people misunderstand the purpose of Advent. Some are content with nostalgia; the familiar warmth of “the reason for the season.” Others grow cynical, frustrated by commercialization and sentimentality, uncomfortable with the surrounding noise and excess. Some avoid Christmas altogether, distancing themselves from Santa, songs, and symbols in an attempt to preserve purity. BUT all of these responses, in different ways, miss the point.
Throughout Christian history, the symbols of Christmas were never meant to stand alone. At their best, they did, and still, function as signposts—visible, tangible teachers pointing beyond themselves to Christ. The Christmas tree, shaped by medieval Christian tradition, reminded worshipers that life lost through a tree is restored through another. Evergreens testified to eternal life in the dead of winter. Lights proclaimed that Christ is the Light of the world who enters darkness without waiting for it to lift. The star announced divine guidance and revelation—that God leads seekers to His Son. Gifts echoed the greater truth that salvation is received, not earned, because God gave first. Candles, bells, wreaths, shepherds, angels, snow, holly, and the manger itself—all formed a kind of visual catechism for a people who could not read, but who could see, remember, and believe.
THESE SYMBOLS WERE NEVER REPLACEMENTS FOR SCRIPTURE. THEY WERE SERVANTS OF IT.
And yet, even the best symbols are insufficient if they remain boxed up with the decorations. They were meant to direct us toward Someone, not satisfy us with sentiment. Dennis the Menace once asked a question that still lingers with me: “Dad, why can’t Christmas have overtime?” He was asking the right question—but for the wrong reason. Christmas doesn’t need overtime. It needs completion.
BECAUSE THE BABY IN THE MANGER IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY.
The Child of Advent is the Promise and the Christ of the Scriptures. The gentle Savior is also the Warrior King of Revelation—riding forth in righteousness, judging and making war, faithful and true. Advent does not stop at Bethlehem. It moves relentlessly forward—through the cross, through the resurrection, through the ascension, and toward a promised end.
This is where Advent has always been moving.Not toward sentiment, but fulfillment. Not toward memory, but completion.Not merely toward Christ coming, but toward God dwelling with His people forever. The first Advent announces that God has come near, the words of Jesus reveal that He will never leave and this is how the story culminates: “And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is among the people, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away.” (Rev 21:3-4) This has always been the plan—not simply that Christ would come, but that God would be with His people. In Christ. Forever.
Athanasius understood this when he wrote that the same Word who created the world is the One through whom it is renewed. Creation and salvation are not separate acts. The Incarnation was not a pause in history—it was the beginning of restoration and the fulfillment of the Gen 3:15 promise from God. Christ did not come to be admired, remembered, or symbolized as a little, innocent, helpless baby. He came to save, to reign, to dwell, and to make all things new.
HE CAME TO FINISH WHAT HE STARTED.
This is why Advent always felt incomplete to me. Because hope, peace, joy, and love are not Seasonal Themes—they are lived realities, embodied in Christ and worked out in us through faith.
These thoughts, and so many more, erupted in my mind like fireworks. I was overwhelmed as the words that Peter penned in his letters to the “aliens” scattered all over modern day Turkiye, flooded my thoughts. Peter makes this unmistakably clear. Because Christ has come—and because He will return—we are called to live transformed, holy, lives now. The symbols help us remember why. But they can never replace the One they proclaim.
AS I PACKED CHRISTMAS AWAY, I REALIZED THAT NOTHING ESSENTIAL WAS BEING PUT IN A BOX.
The candles may come down, but I am called to remain a light. Not a quiet flicker hidden in the night, but a bold flame—burning, visible, unmistakable. The symbols return to storage, but the substance lives on. Christ in me. Hope that endures. Peace that rules. Joy that sustains. Love that compels. In 2 Peter 1:2-11, Peter describes what hope, peace, joy, and love look like as we are filled with the Incarnation in our spirit. Here Peter says, “so that by them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world by lust. 5Now for this very reason also, applying all diligence, in your faith supply moral excellence, and in your moral excellence, knowledge, 6 and in your knowledge, self-control, and in your self-control, perseverance, and in your perseverance, godliness, 7 and in your godliness, brotherly kindness, and in your brotherly kindness, love. 8 For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they render you neither useless nor unfruitful in the true knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. 9 For he who lacks these qualities is blind or short-sighted, having forgotten his purification from his former sins. 10 Therefore, brethren, be all the more diligent to make certain about His calling and choosing you; for as long as you practice these things, you will never stumble; 11 for in this way the entrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ will be abundantly supplied to you.”
REMEMBER! PETER SAYS I WILL ALWAYS REMIND YOU.
“Therefore, I will always be ready to remind you of these things, even though you already know them and have been established in the truth which is present with you.” (2 Peter 1:12) Peter echoes what Jesus promised at the end of Matthew’s Gospel—that He would be with us always, even to the end of the age (Matt. 28:20). Here, Peter is not introducing something new; he is deepening and expounding the immensity of Christ’s power and presence in the life of the believer.
Jesus Christ is our source of sufficiency and perseverance. He has granted us salvation, sustains our life by His power, provides both the example and the divine strength to live holy lives, and invites us into a personal, intimate knowledge of Him—through repentance He enables and faith He sustains.
So, I will not stop living toward the fulfillment and completion of Christ in me. I will not stop telling as many people about Him as I can. I will not stop seeking to bring as many with me into the presence of Jesus as God allows before my life ends. Christmas does not conclude my faith—it commissions it.
From gloom to glory – Christ in us, the hope of glory. And until the King who came returns, I will live Advent every day.