1 Thessalonians 5:5 – You are all children of the light and children of the day. We do not belong to the night or to the darkness.
The morning after Christmas feels strange. The house is quieter, wrapping paper gone, the excitement already fading. When I was younger, I thought keeping the tree up past December 25 just meant laziness.
But now I like to keep my tree up a bit longer. I love Christmas, and I believe some stories deserve a chance to finish themselves.
Because, truth be told, the Christmas story did not end at the manger. The shepherds returned to their flocks, their excitement folded into ordinary routines. But far away, three travelers pressed on through nights colder than they imagined, following a star that refused to dim.
They carried gifts, questions, and hope in equal measure. The day they finally arrived is what people now celebrate as Epiphany.
It sounds like a big, confusing word, but the holiday is simple at its heart. Epiphany marks the moment expectation meets revelation.
They saw Him—Jesus. The Promised One who Heaven and Earth had longed for. That arrival did not happen in a single instant. It came slowly, like a caravan crossing the desert, and it reminds me that often truth shows up the same way in our own lives.
So, now I keep my tree up through the Twelve Days of Christmas because it is a reminder that revelation does not happen all at once. The lights of Epiphany are small but they are still there, persistent. The Light does not fade when the season ends.
Christ is the big Light, but I’m reminded that I am somehow folded into this amazing story. Just like those little, twinkling lights, I’m reminded and amazed I get to shine the light of Jesus, too.
That’s not just a nice thought—it’s how Scripture describes us.
The Bible says it like this: “You are all children of the light and children of the day. We do not belong to the night or to the darkness” (1 Thessalonians 5:5).
Most of my days do not feel epic. They feel ordinary. Yet even ordinary days become extraordinary when I choose to live for Him. It’s a bowl of soup offered to someone cold and hungry. A patient answer to a harsh word. Showing up when it would be easier not to. These small acts are light traveling through the world.
Before I pack up the ornaments, I stand beneath the branches and let the meaning settle. I ask myself quietly: if a star guided travelers across deserts, might the Light travel through my ordinary day too? If it can, will I let it?
So, friends, I do not know if you have packed your tree away yet, but if you can, I want to encourage you with this: pause under the glow one last time and remember the Light of the World still shines, long after the season ends.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
- Where have you noticed God’s light lingering in your life after a season has ended?
- What does it mean for you personally to live as a “child of the light” in ordinary days?
- Which small, quiet acts in your life might be carrying more light than you realize?
- Is there a place where darkness feels heavy right now—and how might God be inviting you to shine there?
- As you move forward from Christmas, what would it look like to let Christ’s light guide your daily choices?