Holy Ground, Messy Places
The story of Christmas is not clean. It is not quiet. It is not convenient.
Jesus was not born into comfort or order or certainty. He was born into disruption. Into travel and exhaustion. Into fear and vulnerability. Into a borrowed space that smelled like animals and hay and sweat. There was no plan B, no perfect timing, no control. Just obedience, trust, and love showing up in the middle of a mess.
And that matters.
Because if we are honest, most of our lives do not look like a Christmas card. They look more like a stable. Unfinished. Uncertain. Crowded with worry. Heavy with responsibility. Marked by grief, stress, doubt, and questions we do not have answers to yet.
That is holy ground.
Not because it is tidy or resolved. But because God steps into it.
The miracle did not happen after the mess was cleaned up. Not once everything made sense. The miracle happened right there. God entered disorder and did what only God can do.
Miracles still work that way.
So here is a simple invitation this Christmas. Two small but meaningful tasks.
• Give someone else a gift.
Not something wrapped. Give presence. Enter their mess. Sit with them. Encourage them. Listen without fixing. Offer grace where it is not earned. Show patience where it is hard. That kind of gift costs something, but it is the kind that lasts.
• Give yourself a gift.
Permission to be human. Permission to not have it all figured out. Permission to slow down, breathe, and stop pretending that strength means having no cracks. Sometimes the most meaningful gift you can give yourself is honesty.
That brings me to my faith.
I believe in Jesus. And I do not have it figured out.
My faith has never been a straight line or a settled conclusion. It has been marked by questions, inconsistency, doubt, and moments of clarity that never seem to last as long as I want them to. I have wrestled. I still wrestle. There are days when belief feels steady and days when it feels fragile.
What I do understand, and keep coming back to, is this. Jesus starts and ends with love. And I believe with conviction that he is our Lord and Savior.
I hold onto that truth even when my faith feels thin. Even when the path feels unclear. Even when the mess feels louder than the miracle.
Christmas reminds me that God is not afraid of our mess. He enters it. Fully. Willingly. Lovingly.
So do not wait until life feels neat or resolved or calm. Step into the mess. Give someone else the gift of presence and compassion. Give yourself the gift of grace.
