Feeling Sad at Christmas
It’s the hap-, happiest season of all…
I’ve had those words and their jaunty melody earworming in my mind over the last few weeks. It’s a little ironic, because of all the Christmases in my life, I’m not particularly feeling it this year. Is it OK for pastors to be a little sad sometimes, even at Christmas?! It happens.
I was preparing for the final worship services of 2025 earlier this week, remembering the names and lives of those who have passed away from our congregation over the past twelve months. It’s been a lot. Such beautiful people. There definitely have been a record number of funerals in these parts.
My last remaining uncle died earlier this week. Such a great guy. He was the New Year’s baby in Michigan - born just after the stroke of midnight - in the early 1940’s. He was born with severe cerebral palsy which he refused to let deter him from anything. He loved teaching driver’s education to 15-year-olds. What a guy!
And then there’s been the unusual vortex of severe diagnoses, surgeries, and physical brokenness swirling around recently. It’s detectable in my family, amongst my friends, and in the midst of awesome Christians that I’m privileged to serve alongside. It seems to be one of those seasons where sickness seems to be gaining the upper hand. So, yeah, I’ve been a little sad.
What do we do when our feelings don’t align with the lights, the colors, and the holiday cheer?
When “the most wonderful time of the year” mocks us. Or makes us feel guilty for not having a quick smile and hap-, happy heart easily overflowing with good cheer?
Here’s what I’ve got: Go deeper. Trust that the feelings will follow. Somehow. Someday.
Jesus didn’t come to wave a magic wand and create the most wonderful time of the year.
Jesus came to enter in - into your life, into my life. Into all the stuff that just doesn’t seem to be working quite right. But, here’s the amazing thing: when Jesus enters in, things start to turn around. It might be sooner, it might be later. It might be in the twinkling of an eye, it might take an age and involve a lengthy process. But whether it’s here in the land of the living - or in a better country - all the current weight and darkness will be overwhelmed by the “Sun of Righteousness.”
So, despite the seasonal sadness, I have a peace that passes understanding. A mysterious joy.
I might not be the hap-, happiest guy on the block right now. But - by faith - I have something unshakeable that no circumstance and nobody can take away. What a gift that is!
My friend David Hendricks (left-handed guitar player in our church band, if you don’t know him) writes songs, and this year he wrote a great Christmas song that pokes at exactly this dynamic. I hope you get to hear him sing it someday. Here are a few of the lyrics. Maybe you can relate.
Go and wrap those presents
Hang those twinkling lights
Go and build a snow fort with your kids
But there’s another story on the other side of the hill
Sometime Christmas, it hurts like hell
Carl is being transferred to the Bayside Memory Care
And he knows his mind just isn’t right
Cuz he stares at the card that reads: “I LOVE YOU, DAD”
To a name he can’t recognize
Audrey’s been expecting a new, baby boy
Nine months, to finally hold him in her arms
But a complicated labor and she lost her baby boy
As he draws his last breath… in her arms
Go and hang those stockings
Decorate that tree
Eat the ham, enjoy the pumpkin pie
But there’s different story on the other side of this hill
Sometimes Christmas, can hurt like hell
Oh, I still believe
The baby and the manager – The one who came to save us
Oh, I want to believe
That even in the darkness - He never will forsake us
Go enjoy your family
Go hug those kids
They are the blessings you can’t buy
But don’t forget that story on the other side of the hill
Sometimes Christmas - even Christmas - can hurt like hell