The Christmas Story We Live: God’s Gifts Along Our Hardest Journeys
Ever taken a long road trip that left you completely drained by the time you finally pulled into a hotel or reached your destination? I remember one in particular: three full days on the road while I was eight months pregnant. I had just learned my father only had a few days to live, and since flying was no longer an option, my husband and sister committed to driving with me down to Florida. We stopped every two hours so I could stretch and walk a bit, and even then it was grueling, when you’re that far along, everything feels like a hurdle. Yet each night, I knew I could look forward to a warm bath and a soft bed waiting for me.
It’s almost impossible to fully grasp what Mary must have felt, arriving at the end of that exhausting journey only to be turned away. Imagine those final miles, every step heavier than the last, clinging to the hope that somewhere ahead there would be a room, a bed, a safe place to rest, only to be met with the crushing words: there’s no room for you here.
What a profound gratitude that finally a resting place opened up, albeit a humble stable. And soon after, the shepherds and the Magi arrived, rejoicing and bearing witness to the birth of Jesus.
After all they had endured, I can only imagine how deeply Joseph and Mary must have cherished the arrival of these unexpected, heaven-sent guests rejoicing with them, affirming God’s care and worshiping with them.
Six years ago, our whole family flew to the Dominican Republic to celebrate my grandmother’s 100th birthday. But almost as soon as we arrived, my daughter spiked a fever and she had to stay back at the hotel with my husband. The next day her temperature rose and fell unpredictably, yet we pressed on with our plans, traveling four hours away to a smaller town where we were scheduled to lead several of our programs and trainings. We went with some friends including a physician, which gave us a measure of comfort, believing he would guide us if her condition worsened.
During the long bus ride, her fever refused to break, and when we finally arrived, our local partners were running late. It was just one of several setbacks that slowed our efforts to get her to a hospital. In that swirl of fear and uncertainty, the calm, steady presence of a kind, confident pediatrician, who gently told us it was pneumonia and explained the treatment, became an anchor for us, quieting our fears and steadying our hearts right when we needed it most.
Even after she was admitted, the trials didn’t stop. Hurricane Maria threatened the island, our team was urging us to leave as soon as possible, and we were trying to honor our commitments while our six-year-old lay in a hospital bed. In the middle of it all, during a simple coffee break in the hallway, a nurse coming on shift caught sight of my distress. She paused, checked in, and with just a few compassionate words, ministered to my heart and lifted my weary spirit.
The day before we departed, we managed to facilitate a seminar with couples that had gathered from about ten churches from the surrounding village. It was the first time that the couples came together for such an occasion and they put aside the threat of an impending hurricane to do so. Their engagement and gratitude ministered to us that day.
On the bus ride back, one of the passengers suddenly rose to his feet and, with a voice full of conviction, poured out words from the depths of his heart seeking to calm everyone from the fear and anxiety piercing the air because of the hurricane. And even in the final hours of our journey, sitting in a small airport restaurant, a gentle worker noticed my daughter’s coughing fit, searched for honey and lemon, and lovingly mixed a remedy just for her.
It felt like a sacred relay of kindness, each person taking their turn to carry us when we were too weary to move forward on our own. Every encounter became a living testimony of His favor, a series of providential appointments, handpicked by God, to surround our family with care at every step of the journey.
I hadn’t met a single one of these kind strangers before this trip, just as Mary and Joseph had never met the shepherds or the Magi, yet, like them, each one responded to God’s nudge and stepped into our story at exactly the right moment.
There are seasons when God invites us to open our arms, offering hospitality, extending kindness, and rejoicing with others in the middle of their struggle. And there are seasons when we find ourselves on the other side of that grace, the ones in desperate need of being carried, comforted, and cared for.
Looking back, can you trace God’s hand and purposes through seasons that confounded your understanding?
As we enter this Christmas season, may I invite you to draw close to Jesus and to pay attention to the gentle nudge of the Holy Spirit, to be a shepherd to the weary traveler, and a Magi who freely offers generous gifts. Christmas is, at its heart, a story of lavish generosity and profound redemption—God with us. Because of Him, we can trust that every struggle and every hard road has meaning, and we can rest in the hope we have in Christ.
On life’s journeys, we may lose our luggage, our temper, our self-control, even our sense of direction but because of Christmas, we never lose our hope.