Who Will You See this Christmas?

The orange glow from my bedside clock mocks me as I blink away the hours. I roll over and groan. I know I should get up, but the coziness of my blankets and the weight of my heart keep me in bed. It is the Christmas season, and I feel weary.

There are many reasons why the Christmas blues strike. I become overwhelmed. There are holiday decorations to place and thoughtful gifts to buy; Christmas outfits to select and cookies to bake. By themselves, they are fine. But when squeezed into one month, the expectations usurp me. Instead of propelling me forward into action, the “happiest time of the year” holds me hostage.

But if I step back, strip away the commercial side of Christmas and take away the to-do lists, I can focus. I’ve heard the biblical story so many times that if I don’t listen well, I miss the significance and awe. As you likely know, a baby came to earth in an extraordinary way. God chose a virgin, a stable, and an angelic birth announcement to shepherds to accompany his arrival.

But hasn’t God always shown his love through unexpected ways?

Hagar, slave of Abraham’s wife Sarah, described God as “The God who sees” (Genesis 16:13). Repeatedly in Scripture, God chooses and sees the individuals no one else does.

Jesse’s youngest son, David, a shepherd, was out in the field when the prophet Samuel came to anoint the next king of Israel. David wasn’t even summoned until all his brothers had passed before Samuel. As one handsome, tall son after another came before the prophet, Samuel thought, Surely this is the one. But God replied, “The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Sam.16: 7) Although he was only a shepherd, David became king of Israel and part of the lineage of Jesus.

Unexpected, unusual characters also appear in Jesus’s ministry. In one of my favorite stories, Jesus interacts with a Samaritan woman at a well. All the social rules dictated that Jesus should not have spoken with her because of her ethnicity—and he certainly should not have drunk from the same dish. What’s more, Jesus knew her history. He knew why she was coming to the well at a late hour when no one else was around. Her lifestyle had given her a reputation with the neighbors. She was an outsider in her own community. Regardless, Jesus asked her for a drink. She replied, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (John 4:9) But that didn’t stop Jesus, and he shared his living water with her.

After her encounter with Jesus, the Samaritan woman told her community, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did.” (John 4:29) Jesus saw her when no one else did and entered into a space that made others uncomfortable. Even knowing her sordid history, Jesus invited her to trust in him.

When Jesus was born, the first to hear the announcement were nearby shepherds. The angel said, “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people” (Luke 2:10). Church tradition tells us that shepherds were not well respected in first-century Israel. They were considered ceremonially unclean, and their testimony was not acknowledged in court. Yet, they were the first ones to know about the birth of Jesus and to report the good news: the God who sees us, the God who knows our hearts and our history, had come to earth as a baby.

This good news for “all the people” continued to the cross. We see it through the well-known verse of John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” And we see it in Acts when Peter, through a vision, is told to go to the Gentiles (everyone who is not Jewish) to share the gospel with them (see Acts 10).

In literature analysis, “others” are anyone who is perceived by the in-group as not belonging for whatever reason. Perhaps they are a slave or a foreigner, the youngest son or a woman from a sordid background. If you look around today’s society, can you see the “others”? Can you see someone no one else notices? Or are you the one who feels like no one sees you?

If you are like me, and the Christmas blues have you buried under the covers, I wonder if perhaps we have the wrong focus. All the things we feel we should do are quite possibly the least important as we celebrate the story of Christmas. If we’re overwhelmed, do we need to reorder our priorities? What does that mean? Should we ditch all our family traditions? Only uphold the traditions that focus on and include others who are marginalized? I’m not sure. But I hope that as we encounter the baby Jesus, we are changed.

I lie in my warm bed and think of the shepherds whose night was interrupted by a heavenly announcement. I think of the Samaritan woman who went to the well for water and met Jesus. I think of David before he was king, alone with his sheep, singing praises to God. I think of Hagar, the slave of Sarah, who was seen by God.

My heart lifts. I know that I am seen by God, who knows my heart and my history, the God who sent his Son to the world as a baby to one day die for our sins and conqueror death.

I think of you and me and the possibilities that this Christmas holds. Who will you see this Christmas?

I get out of bed, leaving my warm blankets. “Dear Jesus,” I pray, “Thank you for seeing us. Help us to see others.”

Ashley Shannon is a wife, mother, and self-appointed adventure curator. As a lifelong learner, she enjoys exploring the Midwest where she lives and painting her experience of motherhood with words.