Bringing Back the Awe: Why Christmas Should Still Captivate Us

I was wrapped snugly in my winter coat and PJs, hot chocolate steaming in my mug. My three brothers and I were stuffed into my mom’s light-blue station wagon like sardines in a can. Two of us facing forward while the other two in the “way back” faced each other, we pulled out of our driveway and headed up the hill toward our destination.

Our childlike anticipation must have been contagious, because my mom belted out every Christmas carol and song she knew, and my dad even joined us for a few. “Jingle Bells,” “Joy to the World,” “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer”—we sang each one with equal gusto. There isn’t a single good singer to be found among the six of us, but of all the music that plays in the soundtrack of my memory, it’s the best concert I’ve ever been to.

All our singing ceased as we pulled up to the first house on a street a few blocks up. Lit up in thousands of lights, carefully placed to display the beauty of the home and symbolize the Christmas spirit, we were left breathless. As we looked down the sleepy little street, in our sleepy little Idaho town, we understood exactly why this unassuming avenue was aptly nicknamed Candy Cane Lane.

Every house on the block had a giant candy cane affixed to its mailbox, and not one house on the street had gone untouched by the glowing strands of green, white, red, and blue. Lights were everywhere. The snow on the ground was illuminated and sparkling as if it couldn’t help but take part in the show.

“Wow! Look at that one!”

“That is so beautiful! Their house looks even better than it did last year.”

“I wonder how they got the lights up there!”

Our whole family saw the beauty of Christmas and gaped in awe at the splendor on display that cold Christmas Eve. The lights, the snow, the joy of music—it was almost holy.

Thinking back on this night makes me wonder what it must have been like for the shepherds in the fields on the very first Christmas night. What were they feeling when the host appeared and all of heaven celebrated above them, God’s power and glory and beauty on display?
Were there lights with the singing? Did the shepherds, like my brothers and I, stand with eyes wide and jaws slung open? Did they say anything, or were they simply captivated by the miracle that is Christmas? I would venture to guess that after seeing the sky open up and the angels dancing, those shepherds experienced Christmas every day. Their Messiah had come, and he was a baby named Jesus!

There is a sad element to the end of my sweet family story: we all grew up. We became teenagers who were too busy or too cool to drive around and look at lights on houses. Some of us moved away, and now we see Candy Cane Lane only when our friends post pictures on Facebook. It just isn’t the same. The awe has faded.

What if we do things a little differently this Christmas season? What if we bring back the awe? What if, instead of being caught up in the busyness of gifts and parties, we follow the example of the shepherds and simply stand in awe of the miracle sent to us from heaven? What if we rejoice in the Savior who was born, the same one who promises to come back for us? What if we sing songs to him and join our families in celebration of his life, living as those who have heard the message of heaven?

I challenge you to find the awe in the Christmas story this season. Let’s reclaim the childlike faith that once held Santa so dear and now holds the mighty Jesus Christ. Let’s see the Christmas story for what it truly is, a miraculous gift from God, sent from heaven to save us. He is the reason the angels dance and sing. Let him be the reason you dance and sing. And when you’ve found the awe this season, take it with you, just like the shepherds, into the rest of your life.

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Becky Yurisich is a full-time Army wife and mom, and an occasional teacher of first graders. She is an unapologetic follower of Jesus and the University of North Carolina Tar Heels. Becky holds a bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education from UNC, and dreams of writing a book. She blogs at beckyyurisich.com.

Photograph © Bob Ricca, used with permission