Christmas is not just the celebration of a birth. It's certainly more than Jesus' birthday. It is the celebration of an appearance. Titus tells us, "When the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared..." God stepped into our world, into flesh, and into history.

Now, notice what Paul emphasizes: not because of righteous things we had done.

That's how we win contests. When I was in middle school, I had the opportunity to meet Chuck Norris. He came to our school as a reward for our participation in his new karate program. And, somehow, our family even got a Christmas card from him!

But Christmas confronts our instincts to try to earn our way to God. The manger reminds us that salvation begins not with our effort, but with God's mercy. Before we could ever clean ourselves up or figure everything out, God came near to us.

I've been through many blackouts, and I think every time I eventually do the same thing. I'll walk into a room knowing the lights do not work. Still, I flip the switch, and for a split second I'm surprised when nothing happens.

Some of that is muscle memory. That's what you do when you enter a room. You reach for the light because darkness isn't helpful. My body remembers the light, even when I know it's not there.

I'd like to think that's something God can teach us to be: light expectators. That is, people who live with the expectation that God will shine.

We aren't people who deny darkness. But we are people who refuse to believe it gets the final word. We are people who still reach out, still pray, and still show up, expecting God to act. Not because our conditions have improved, but because God has been faithful before.

Of course, the switch isn't the source of light. Flipping it doesn't restore power to the grid. It doesn't fix the outage. It does show me that I believe light belongs in this room. That's the kind of expectancy Isaiah sees when he says the people walking in darkness have seen a great light. Nothing had improved yet. The power wasn't back on, but God had already decided.

That's what Christmas announces.

Faith is often misunderstood as only an agreement. We may think it's about believing the right things, checking the right theological boxes, or nodding along to truths we've heard our whole lives. But Paul reminds us in Galatians 3 that Abraham's faith was something far more lived than that. The text says that "Abraham believed God." That belief is revealed in the Bible not just in Abraham's thoughts, but also in his actions.

Abraham trusted God enough to move. Enough to leave what was familiar to him. Enough to walk forward without a map, timeline, or proof that all would work out for him. His faith wasn't a certainty. It was a trust. And trust almost always involves risk.

I'm sure most of us would prefer a faith that feels safer than that. When faith demands more of us than we expect, that's often when resistance begins. We want clarity before obedience and reassurance before surrender. We want God to explain the plan before we take the step. But faith doesn't always work out that way. Faith begins where our control ends.

Last night, our church hosted a service of the Longest Night. For several years, this has been one of the gatherings I look forward to most.

It's a time to acknowledge our pain and need before God and one another, especially in the midst of a holiday season that can fly by. Of course, we all need healing and peace. But what I've observed is that this service is a gathering some of us need sometimes. So, guessing how many people will show up is impossible. Some years, more people feel like they need to be there. Others, not as much.

This year, more than ever, I think, I needed to be there. I prepared everything for the service a week before, and was ready to lead. As the service began, everything went as planned. By design, it's a simple gathering. I do most of the talking, and we sing only a few verses throughout the entire time.

This year, we sang "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." Who knows how many times I've sung that hymn. But singing "Rejoice! Rejoice!" meant something I needed to experience in a different way. Tears swelled in my eyes. I sensed the light of Christ in a meaningful way.

There's a lot happening during the holiday season. It's easy to be overwhelmed this time of the year. That's why I think I was drawn to David's prayer today.

Notice what he does before he begins to pray. The text says he went and sat in the Lord's presence. Before he says or asks anything, he slows down just enough to be present. And isn't presence what we celebrate at Christmas?

Then David says, "Who am I, Lord God, and what significance is my family, that you have brought me this far?" Now, that may sound strange or a bit like false humility. He's King David, after all. That's who you are! But that's just a reminder that no matter what our accomplishments are or what we've made of our lives, we are still creatures standing before God in need of grace.

So, let's use his question to reflect on our lives. When we slow down enough to look back, we can see how much of our story is undeserved goodness. Doors that opened. Strength that showed up on time. People who carried us when we couldn't carry ourselves. And David's prayer didn't talk about what he had done. Instead, he points to God. God's faithfulness, generosity, and unmatched grace.