Love That Came Low

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Philippians 2:6-8 — Though he was in the form of God, (He) did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

The stable smelled of straw and the faint warmth of animals. In Mary’s arms lay a newborn—small, fragile, and yet impossibly weighty in the gravity of His presence.

His breathing was soft and rhythmic, anchoring the room in a stillness Mary had never known. She laid Him gently in the manger, adjusting the swaddling as Joseph watched, eyes wide with a kind of awe that left him steadying himself against the wood.

Everything about Him felt ordinary and extraordinary all at once.

The animals shifted closer, curious and calm. Mary’s mind struggled to hold the paradox before her: this tiny, vulnerable child was the promised Messiah—the Son of God—choosing straw over a throne. She brushed her fingers across His delicate hand, and the truth settled in her chest like a weight and a wonder all at once.

Love had chosen humility.

Joseph leaned in, one hand braced against the manger. Mary watched Jesus curl His fingers the way newborns do—reaching for nothing, and yet somehow reaching for everything. Each small movement felt like a quiet declaration: heaven had entered the world without spectacle, without force, without defense.

Outside, the world slept on, unaware. But inside this simple shelter, love had lowered itself so completely that even a young mother could cradle Him without fear.

This was what the words would later try to capture:

“Though He was in the form of God, He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped. Instead, He emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant… humbling Himself to the point of death.” (Philippians 2:6–8)

But before those words were written, they were lived—first in a manger.

Mary exhaled slowly, as though her heart was finally catching up to what her hands were holding.

And somewhere in that quiet, a question began to rise.

If God Himself was willing to come this low for the sake of love…
what might that mean for us?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What part of Jesus’ humility stands out to you most in this scene?
  • Why do you think God chose to enter the world quietly rather than with power and spectacle?
  • Where in your own life might God be inviting you to release status, control, or self-protection?
  • How does understanding Jesus’ willingness to “empty Himself” shape the way you see love?
  • What would it look like for you to reflect Christ’s humility in one small, intentional way today?
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Finding Joy in Life’s Unexpected Gifts

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Proverbs 3:5-6 – Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.

When I heard the news that we were expecting our third daughter… I nearly passed out.

There is no poetic way to say it. I was stunned. We were not trying. We were not planning. We were not even vaguely thinking about starting over. We already had two beautiful daughters, Ashlyn and Madison. Our world was full, and honestly, we were just starting to find a rhythm again. Nights were quiet, diapers were a memory, and the laundry pile was almost manageable.

So, yes. Shock. Real, physical, sit-down-before-you-fall-over shock.

But over the next few days, something in me softened. The disbelief did not disappear, but it made room for a different kind of feeling.

I started remembering all the small, sacred things from when our girls were babies. The slow sway of rocking them to sleep. The weight of their tiny heads tucked under my chin. The feeling that the rest of the world could wait—because in that moment, I was their whole world. Those memories came back like old songs I had not heard in a while, and they settled in my chest with a warmth I had not expected.

And now? Now I find myself getting excited. Truly, tenderly, deeply excited.

Fittingly, this baby is due to arrive at Christmas. And the timing does not feel random. It feels… personal. Intentional. Like something only God could orchestrate.

It has made me think a lot about Joseph. The one from Scripture. The carpenter. The man who had plans of his own—plans that were disrupted overnight by news he could not have seen coming. I imagine he asked a lot of the same questions I have asked.

How do I love this child well? Will I have what it takes to provide for this family? What kind of man do I need to become for this child?

Joseph did not get all the answers upfront. But he trusted. He obeyed. He stood by Mary, and he raised a child that changed the world.

And that part—that quiet, steady willingness to lean into the unexpected—that is what gets me.

Because here is what I am learning: some of God’s greatest gifts do not come wrapped in the timing we expect. They show up unannounced, inconvenient, and completely out of sync with our plans.

But that does not make them any less beautiful.

This surprise has reminded me that God’s fingerprints are often clearest on the things we never saw coming. And if I had stayed locked in my fear, I might have missed the joy buried inside this unexpected gift.

It reminds me so much of what scripture says in Proverbs 5, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.”

So, if your life just took a turn you did not plan for—if you are staring down something that makes your knees weak—do not rush to fix it. Do not run from it. Lean in. Let it sit with you long enough for the joy to rise.

You never know what goodness God has tucked inside the surprise.

— Chris Tomlin

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What unexpected turn has God allowed in your life that you’re still trying to understand?
  • Where are you tempted to lean on your own understanding instead of trusting God fully?
  • How has God shown His faithfulness to you in past situations you didn’t plan for?
  • What might it look like to acknowledge God in this current season—even without clarity?
  • Is there a hidden joy or gift you might discover if you released fear and leaned into trust?
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Tiny Gifts, Big Riches

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Colossians 3:16 — Let the message about Christ, in all its richness, fill your lives. Teach and counsel each other with all the wisdom he gives. Sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs to God with thankful hearts.

I remember the story Penny shared about a Christmas when money was scarce, and she had three daughters counting on her. She prayed openly, asking God for a way to make the morning feel like a celebration, even if the gifts were small.

Her solution was simple but perfect. Instead of gifts, she spent less than fifty dollars on little trinkets, wrapped them, and hid them throughout the house. She wrote clues on index cards and turned her home into a treasure hunt.

On Christmas morning, she handed the first clue to her daughters. The house erupted with sound. Feet hit floors. Voices bounced off walls. Each small treasure found became a prize. Each discovery turned into a shared favorite memory.

Penny watched her daughters and realized that joy can arrive in small packages. Laughter and excitement filled the holes in their family’s hearts that riches could not reach.

Later, Penny reflected on the lessons those lean years taught her daughters and herself — lessons that stayed with them long after the gifts were gone:

  • Creativity blooms when the cupboards are bare.
  • Laughter carries farther than money ever could.
  • Giving does not have to cost anything; it can be time or a kind act.
  • Family presence outweighs possessions.
  • Discontentment shrinks as appreciation grows.
  • Hard times teach lessons that last a lifetime.

Toward the end of the story, she shared a verse with me, the one she had read to her girls each Christmas: Colossians 3:16. “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” That moment tied everything together.

It reminded her—and me—that they were never poor. Not then. Not now. Every Advent season, I return to that line. If the Word dwells in us, if gratitude fills our homes, and if He is already here celebrating with us, who among us could ever not call ourselves rich?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When have you experienced joy that didn’t depend on money or material things? What made that moment meaningful?
  • Colossians 3:16 speaks of letting Christ’s message “dwell richly” in us. What fills your home most often during this season — stress, comparison, or gratitude?
  • How might creativity and thankfulness grow when circumstances feel limited?
  • What simple traditions or shared moments have shaped your faith more than gifts ever could?
  • In what ways might God be reminding you this season that you are already rich in what matters most?
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Joy That Survives the Fall

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1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 – Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

I climbed the snowy hill with more curiosity than confidence. Sitting on the slick rubber tube, I shifted slightly to see how it would respond beneath me. The snow crunched under my boots, and the cold nipped at my fingers as I adjusted my grip.

My hair whipped across my face, tangling against the wind. My friends lingered behind, part cheerleaders, part mischief-makers.

Then came the shove that sent me sliding.

For a moment, it felt amazing. The tube glided over the packed snow, carrying me faster and faster. My laugh burst out before I could catch it. The hill seemed bigger than all my problems as if the world transformed just for me. Every worry felt distant like the slope itself had stripped them away.

Then the bump came.

A hidden root flipped the tube, and suddenly I was rolling, arms and legs flailing, snow filling every pocket of my jacket. When I finally stopped, I lay on my back, gasping, and laughing at myself. My friends arrived, faces concerned. I waved them off. I was fine. I was more than fine—I felt alive in a way that smooth rides never achieve.

Later, as I rubbed snow from my coat and shook my boots, I thought about how important it is to feel joy like that. I thought about that verse that says, “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” Those words had always meant something to me, but now they felt alive.

Joy is not the smooth ride. It is what endures the tumbles, what stays when the unexpected spins you around. Gratitude is a choice, and laughter is proof it can stick, even in the mess.

So when the next surprise comes—and it will—don’t let the fall write the story. No, let God do it. Keep riding and keep trusting that the One who steadies you will never let you go.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When life feels unpredictable or messy, how easy is it for you to hold on to joy? What helps you return to it?
  • Which part of this verse is hardest for you right now — rejoicing, praying continually, or giving thanks? Why?
  • How have unexpected “tumbles” in your life shaped your faith rather than diminished it?
  • What would it look like to choose gratitude even when circumstances aren’t smooth or comfortable?
  • How might trusting God with the ride — not just the outcome — change the way you face what’s ahead?
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Home Alone but Not Abandoned

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Psalm 91:2 — This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I trust Him.

Before there was Kevin McCallister, there was a man with a notebook full of half-baked Christmas ideas and a flight to catch.

John Hughes had been writing one hit after another, but something about Christmas kept tugging at him. He loved the noise of it—the clatter of dishes, the stampede of family, the sweaters that made everyone itchy and happy all at once. And on one chilly morning, he started thinking about the chaos of leaving for a holiday trip. Bags everywhere. Kids shouting. Someone always forgetting their toothbrush.

Then it hit him: what if they forgot a kid?

The idea was ridiculous—and that’s exactly why he loved it.

So he sat down and started writing. Snow fell outside his Chicago window, and his office glowed with the light of a small Christmas tree in the corner. As he typed, something beautiful began to emerge—not just comedy and clever traps, but a story about wonder and courage and joy.

Then came the hunt for the kid who could carry the whole sleigh.

Enter Macaulay Culkin.

There was something in the way he looked at the camera—a mixture of innocence, mischief, and that unspoken “watch this” confidence. It was perfect. He was Kevin McCallister.

When Home Alone finally hit theaters in 1990, no one expected what would happen next. The movie didn’t just make people laugh—it made them feel.

Families saw themselves in that noisy house. Parents remembered the panic of holiday travel. Kids felt the thrill of being clever and brave. And in the middle of all the slapstick and silliness, one simple truth appeared. Even when Kevin was left behind, he was never truly alone.

There was the kindly neighbor keeping an eye from across the street, the world outside that noticed when he needed help, and the little acts of care that surrounded him. In his moment of greatest independence—and greatest fear—he had protection, unseen by him at times but there, nonetheless.

And maybe that’s the lesson that lingers. Like Kevin, we are never truly alone. Psalm 91:2 puts it simply: “This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I trust Him.”

Just as Kevin had someone watching out for him in small, tangible ways, we, too, have a refuge in Christ — a place of safety where we are never unprotected, unseen, or without care.

I think, perhaps, that is why John Hughes’ Home Alone still feels magical every Christmas. It’s not just for the laughs or the clever tricks, but for the simple reminder that we are never truly abandoned or forgotten.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When have you felt alone or forgotten, only to later realize you were being cared for all along?
  • Psalm 91:2 calls God our refuge and place of safety. What does that look like in your everyday life right now?
  • Where do you tend to look for security first when things feel uncertain — and how might God be inviting you to trust Him more fully?
  • How does remembering that you are never truly alone change the way you face fear or responsibility?
  • Who around you might need a reminder this season that they are seen, protected, and not forgotten?
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Celebrating Christmas in the Kitchen

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Luke 2:11 — For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.

“What are we baking?” I asked, eyes wide.

I stood by the counter, wooden spoon in hand, trying not to make a total disaster of the kitchen. It smelled incredible—vanilla, butter, all the good stuff—and the sunlight made the mess of flour I’d created look almost artistic.

Mom laughed under her breath. “We’re making a birthday cake.”

“Okay, but who for this time?” I asked. “Someone at church?”

She shook her head. “For Jesus.”

I stared at her. “Like… Jesus Jesus?”

She nodded, completely calm about it.

I wasn’t sure what baking a cake for someone I’d never actually met was supposed to feel like, but as I stirred the batter, something about it felt oddly meaningful—like we were doing more than just following a recipe.

I did not know it yet, but this little tradition would stay with me, long after the flour had been swept from the floor. Each year we followed the same recipe, and each year my sister and I argued over who would lick the spoon first and who would sprinkle the sugar.

Mom never rushed my sister and me. She let us spread the icing and carefully place the candles on top. She wanted us to know, deep down, that this celebration was about more than a cake. It was about joy that came to the world and hope that would not let go.

As I grew, and faith became my own, I finally understood. The coming of Jesus is worth throwing a party over year after year. His birth was not a story in a dusty book. It was a rescue. A beginning.

Now in my own kitchen, flour and sugar lined the counter. My daughters peeked around the corner.

“What are you doing?” they asked.

I motioned them in and told them we were about to bake a birthday cake for Jesus. Soon there was laughter, batter on the floor, and three spoons too many in the bowl.

As we stirred, I leaned in to tell them what my mom once told me, reading softly from the Bible: “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” Luke 2:11. I hoped they would carry this moment with them, the way it stayed with me.

After all, if anything is worth celebrating, is it not the birth that changed the world?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What Christmas tradition has helped shape your faith or understanding of Jesus over the years?
  • How does remembering Jesus’ birth as a rescue — not just a story — change the way you celebrate Christmas?
  • Who in your life might God be inviting you to pass faith along to through simple, meaningful moments?
  • When was the last time you paused to truly celebrate what Jesus’ coming means for you personally?
  • How can you make space this season — through tradition, conversation, or worship — to honor the Savior who changed everything?
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Hand Picked by God

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John 15:16 — You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you.

A few years ago, Bri and I went Christmas shopping for the radio station. We started the morning with coffee in hand and a mission in mind. We were going to make a lot of kids’ Christmas mornings brighter.

We both knew it would take hours, and we were ready for it. We mapped out our route, and started a friendly competition: who could spot the best toys at the best prices first?

We moved down the aisles like treasure hunters, testing buttons, reading labels, and shaking boxes just to see if a toy might survive rough little hands. I held up a puzzle and said, “This could be good, but will they like it?”

Bri held up a stuffed animal and declared, “Maybe, but how about this instead?”

By the third store, our carts were overflowing, energies were draining, and our imaginations were fading. We were working hard just to stay intentional for each kid because, still, we wanted to make each child’s Christmas Wish possible.

We pictured kids opening these gifts, surprised and squealing. We remembered the generosity of each and every listener of 88.7 The Cross whose generosity made this possible. It mattered deeply, so we pressed on.

When we came to the end of our day’s labor of love, I stood there in the self-checkout line and a thought struck me. It was something like this.

We were being intentional on behalf of strangers and thinking through each choice with care. If we could do that for people we would never meet, how considerate must God be in choosing us?

John 15:16 came to mind: “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give you.”

God does not pick us at random. He chooses with purpose. He knows us completely and loves us. And just like Jesus says in John 15, He chooses us so that our lives would bear fruit — the kind that lasts.

By the time the final bags were loaded into the car, my feet were sore but my heart felt so full because I hadn’t thought of it quite like that before.

I am Hand-picked. And so are you. I hope you will remember that today.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When was the last time you felt truly chosen or seen? How did that change the way you showed up?
  • John 15:16 says God chose you with purpose. Where might He be inviting you to bear fruit right now — in your family, workplace, or community?
  • How does remembering that you are “hand-picked” challenge the doubts or insecurities you carry?
  • What gifts or callings has God placed in your life that are meant to last beyond this season?
  • How might believing you are chosen affect the way you treat others today?
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Finding Jesus on the Long Road

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Psalm 16:11 — You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

The star hovered above the horizon calling them forward like a song. The Magi trudged onward, carrying treasures, hope, and exhaustion. Each step felt heavier than the last, yet the drumbeat of hope continued.

The villages they passed offered little—some bread as well as suspicion. Still the star hung unwavering above them as if to say, “Joy to the world! The Lord is come!”

The desert wind cut across their faces as they paused to rest. But the melody continued in their bones: “Let earth receive her King; let every heart prepare Him room.”

They pressed on. They had studied the stars for decades, and they knew the signs. The long-awaited Savior had come. He was deserving of their gifts of praise and so much more.

When the star finally rested above a small house, they approached slowly, holding their breath, hearts pounding.

Inside, a child lay in wide-eyed wonder. The Magi laid down their gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Kneeling, they felt layers of joy rise—relief, awe, and nearly weightless gladness.

Here He was, the promised Messiah. He comes to make His blessings flow. He, alone, rules the world with truth and grace.

A dream warned them not to return the way they had come, and they obeyed. Everything—the star, the dream, the child waiting—reminded the Magi why they had kept walking. Every sleepless night, every risk, every mile in the dust had led them to this.

And the joy they felt was worth it all because the song in their hearts came from Him.

As they knelt, the Wise Men finally understood the truth Scripture had been pointing to all along: “You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” (Psalm 16:11)

And now, kneeling before the child, he felt joy like never before that comes from finally arriving where you were meant to be, from standing before the One who makes every sacrifice matter.

Today, no matter what journey you are on, keep moving toward Him because…oh, the wonders of His love. Bring your gifts, bring your heart, and follow the signs.

And when you find Him, the joy waiting for you will rise like a song—let heaven and nature sing, because He is always worth the journey.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What journey are you currently on that feels long, uncertain, or exhausting? How might God be using it to draw you closer to Him?
  • The Magi kept moving even when the road was hard. What helps you continue seeking Jesus when joy feels distant?
  • Psalm 16:11 says joy is found in God’s presence. Where do you usually look for joy first — and how might that need to shift this season?
  • When have you experienced joy not because circumstances were easy, but because you sensed God was near?
  • What gift — time, attention, trust, worship — might God be inviting you to lay at His feet this Christmas?

L Y R I C S 

Joy to the world the Lord is come
Let earth receive her King
Let every heart prepare Him room
And Heaven and nature sing
And Heaven and nature sing
And Heaven and Heaven and nature sing

We will sing sing sing
Joy to the world
We will sing sing sing

Joy to the world the Savior reigns
Let men their songs employ
While fields and floods rocks hills and plains
Repeat the sounding joy
Repeat the sounding joy
Repeat repeat the sounding joy

We will sing sing sing
Joy to the world
We will sing sing sing

He rules the world with truth and grace
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness
And wonders of His love
And wonders of His love
And wonders of His love
And wonders wonders of His love

(We will sing sing sing)
We’re singing we’re singing
Joy to the world
We will sing sing sing

Joyful joyful we adore Thee
God of glory Lord of love
Oh Lord of love
Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee
Opening to the sun above

Joy to the world
(Joyful joyful we adore Thee)
We adore You God
(God of glory Lord of love)
There’s no one like You
No one like You God
(Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee)
Opening to the sun above

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A Hug That Calmed The Storm

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Galatians 5:14 — For the whole law can be summed up in this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.

In a department store crowded with shoppers and twinkling lights, a little girl’s cry pierced the air. She was sitting in a shopping cart, face red, blotchy. Her tiny fists were curled tight.

Her mother crouched beside her, whispering reassuring words but nothing seemed to comfort her. The woman’s shoulders were braced because she knew she was carrying not just her child, but the judgmental glances of everyone around her.

Shoppers sidestepped them and hurried past.

Then a boy, no older than four-years-old appeared from the next aisle over. He ran toward the crying girl he had never met and wrapped her in a hug. There was absolutely no hesitation in this.

Then the crying stopped. Within seconds the toddler was giggling again.

The mother covered her mouth, and that is when she began to cry. It was just a hug, but it calmed the storm going on inside that anxious mother’s heart.

I have told this story to friends before, and every time, I catch myself imagining the love it takes to step toward someone else’s chaos. The boy did not lecture, he did not calculate, he simply noticed and acted.

That is exactly what Scripture calls us to do: “For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” (Galatians 5:14).

It struck me that small gestures carry immense weight. Peace does not always arrive with grand plans or elaborate words. Sometimes, it comes in the form of a hug from a stranger, a kind word, or a hand offered when someone is struggling.

As I reflect on it now, I realize how often I hesitate. How many moments pass me by because I am afraid to step in? And yet, if one four-year-old can quiet a storm, what might we accomplish if we simply move toward each other instead of away?

The next time someone near you is struggling, consider this: a small act of care, offered without expectation, can make a world of a difference in their life. More than you’ll ever know.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When you notice someone else’s struggle, do you tend to step closer or quietly move on? What usually holds you back?
  • Think of a time when a small act of kindness changed your day. How did it affect you emotionally or spiritually?
  • Who might be feeling overwhelmed, judged, or unseen around you right now — at home, work, or even while running errands?
  • What simple act of love could you offer today without overthinking it — a word, a gesture, or your presence?
  • How might loving your neighbor “as yourself” look different this season if you responded with compassion before calculation?
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Learning to Welcome Jesus

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Revelation 3:20 — Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.

My dad surrendered his life to Jesus when I was about seven, and everything changed in our house. He started taking us to church and singing in the choir. One of my biggest memories of his singing was Christmas — because he was always in the church Christmas musical.

As much as I loved hearing my dad, my favorite singer was Mr. Roy Reynolds, the church bass. When he sang, he would curl his lower lip and rumble out these deep notes you could feel in your chest. As a kid, he was my favorite to watch because of all the funny faces he made.

Every Christmas, Mr. Roy played the innkeeper — which was huge to me — because he sang a solo called “No Room.”

Our musical had one of the deacons and a sweet lady from church dressed as Joseph and Mary — bathrobes, cloths over their heads, and a baby doll in their arms. They would walk from door to door on the set, knocking, hoping someone had space for them.

Then they’d reach the inn. Mr. Roy would step out, chest high and voice booming with joy because he knew his one line was coming:

“NO ROOM!”

As a kid, I thought the innkeeper was the villain. I imagined him wearing a black hat like in old westerns — the man who turned away Jesus. Jesus came to save the world, and this guy put Him in a barn.

It made all of us feel better about ourselves. We’d never turn away Jesus… right?

But years later, after I’d grown in faith, I realized the innkeeper wasn’t a bad guy. He was just… a guy. Busy. Overwhelmed. Trying to handle life. And when the holy moment knocked on his door, he didn’t recognize it for what it was.

I told a pastor this story once. He smiled and said, “You know… the innkeeper gave Him a place. He just didn’t give Him the place.”

And suddenly Revelation 3:20 took on a whole new meaning: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock…”

The innkeeper didn’t reject Jesus with malice. He just didn’t make room for Him. He offered something — but not his best.

And if I’m honest, I see myself in him more than I’d like to admit.

This Christmas, as the calendar fills and the urgency of life crowds in… how willing am I to stop and make room for Jesus? Not just a place — but the place?

— Mark Hall, CASTING CROWNS

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  1. Where in your life do you feel “crowded” — emotionally, mentally, or spiritually — making it harder to slow down and notice Jesus knocking?
  2. What would it look like to give Jesus not just a place in your day, but the place?
  3. Think of a time when you almost missed something meaningful because you were busy. How might that relate to letting Jesus in more fully this season?
  4. Are there habits, distractions, or pressures that are keeping you from opening the door more widely to Him?
  5. How might you intentionally create space for Jesus — in your home, your schedule, your relationships — as you move through the Christmas season?
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