A few nights ago, I got a call from my son because he had a bad day. And because he let me into his world and the ways he felt exposed, I got the chance to care for him and even make him laugh.

While lifting weights this morning, I listened to a podcast by Dr. Curt Thompson, author of The Soul of Shame. In a lightbulb moment for me, Thompson pointed out that vulnerability is a bid for connection. Wanting to be seen. Found. 

And the alternative to vulnerability? Shame. Feeling the need to hide.

We’ve all felt that—how choosing to be vulnerable means creating space for connection, but also for rejection, even harm.

Why I’m Afraid of Being Vulnerable There was a night a number of years ago that still stings a little when I recall it. I had been interested in a girl and finally found the nerve to tell her how I felt. It was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done.

Thompson goes back to Adam and Eve, how they came into this world naked–vulnerable. And in fact, we all come into this world naked and vulnerable. That’s a bid for connection right there, when we’re squalling and hungry and cold. From the moment we’re born, Thompson says, we are “looking for someone looking for us.” We need to hear someone say, “I’ll find you.” 

We will be found

I’ve reflected on this so much in the last year, through moments with loved ones that gutted me. I chewed on what I see of God in Luke 15, in the three stories Jesus tells—of the shepherd who leaves the 99 sheep to look for the one. The woman who lost her coin. And the prodigal son. He is a God who endures the long struggle to find us.

I believe it’s a God-created desire. To be pursued, found, and embraced exactly as we are. Jesus hints at this in John 17:22-23: 

I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one—I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

God placed in us this desire to connect, and He knew we’d only find fulfilment, wholeness, through vital connection with Him. 

Intimacy With God As we look at the Christian landscape, only a  portion of believers in Jesus appear to enjoy an  intimate, vibrant relationship with God. Are they God’s favorites? Is it possible that there are some people who have “qualified” for a deeper intimacy with Him?

Starting with our relationship with God and expanding outward, we long for relationships where we’re completely known and completely loved. The first couple find this in their marriage relationship to each other, too, before sin: They’re “naked and unashamed” (Genesis 2:25).

I felt this profoundly as I endured a week that bent me physically and emotionally in half. And after so very many of those recently, my resilience felt so thin you could see through it. I didn’t know my way out.

Two things then happened:

1. In a long, brutally honest phone call, my mom emotionally came to “find” me in a narrative of shame I couldn’t shake. 

For more than an hour, she gently asked me questions, didn’t settle for pat answers, and let me talk about all the things in my head that didn’t sound entirely true, but sure felt like it. She helped expose the deep lies sticking inside my skull like superglue: That I deserved all the ways my life was bleeding out. That I should expect pain from God, because He wasn’t as good as I thought, didn’t love me in the ways I thought. 

Emotionally, it was as if I was shivering in a pitch-black valley, feeling the breath of wild animals on my neck. And then, through her questions and the space she made to listen to me, it was as if I felt someone’s hand there in the dark: This way. We can find the way out together.

2. In one of the most vulnerable weeks of my marriage, my husband came to me in my emotional pit, and didn’t see me as too mucky to go after. He held me. He listened. He came toward me when I felt like a burden, and too weak to be of use to anyone.

And in that vulnerable bid for intimacy of mine, I found connection. 

6 Ways to Take Your Relationship Deeper When my family and I moved across continents, our lives were stripped down, and being in a new place made everything about three steps harder.

Still feeling unseen?

I know that’s not always the case. It was hard to let myself be found by them partly because there were the times I’d longed for others to listen, to ask questions, to be curious about my soul, to say “tell me more” when I dropped breadcrumbs of my story. . . but got no response. 

But in times when others can’t or simply don’t love well, I think of 1 John 4:16: “And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.” I choose to lean on the reality that He’s the one walking with us through the valley, when there’s no human hand to hold.

If you’ve known this kind of lostness, maybe you’ll find comfort like I have in K.J. Ramsey’s book, The Lord is My Courage:  Stepping through the Shadows of Fear toward the Voice of Love. (Another favourite is Aundi Kolber’s Try Softer: A Fresh Approach to Move Us out of Anxiety, Stress, and Survival Mode–and into a Life of Connection and Joy.)

Working through Psalm 23, Ramsey argues: 

When a sheep is lost or hurt, a shepherd doesn’t wait for them to find their way back to the flock. A good shepherd seeks their lost sheep. A good shepherd knows their sheep’s worth and goodness is not contingent upon their capacity to find their own way back home.

I see how my mom and my husband reaching toward me mimicked God’s own presence to me. And He opened my eyes to other ways my name was written on the palms of His hands (Isaiah 49:16): Lyrics of a song containing words I’d only thought in my head. Scriptures leaping off the page with their relevance to my situation. A small kindness that reminded me, He sees you. 

Considering how Moses asked God to show him His glory, what if I asked God to open my eyes, too, to the ways He sees me? To the ways I’ve never, ever been lost to Him?

And this is what all of us need to know, need to see, need to hear: I’m looking for you. I’ll do the hard work to find you.

Who in your life might especially need to know and sense this about God right now?

How can you show them God’s passionate pursuit of them—with the gift of your time, your interest, your questions, your compassion, your eyes looking in theirs?

Here’s a prayer for you, and for the people in your life who are still waiting to be seen and found—

Father, I feel so lost right now. But You say You seek me out (Ezekiel 34:11, Psalm 119:176)—even when I’m lost (Luke 19:10). 

Open my eyes to the ways You’re not just looking for me, but are profoundly present with me right in this moment, and in the days ahead. I pray Your words from Isaiah 62:12: “And they will call them, ‘The holy people, The redeemed of the Lord,’ And you will be called, ‘Sought out, a city not forsaken.’” 

Thank you that Jesus was forsaken so that You would never leave me (Hebrews 13:5).

This article is originally published on the author’s blog here. This version has been edited by YMI.

Also Read:

My Loneliness Drew Me Closer to Christ My entire life has been about being mediocre. Coming from a family of high achievers, my achievements have always paled in comparison. And as an introverted middle child in a rather huge family, I have always struggled to voice out my feelings or opinions. Being invisible is what best describes me.

The post When You Feel Like No One Sees You appeared first on YMI.

As someone who grew up in the era when the church engaged in boycotts and condemned rock music, I was rather caught up with the “culture wars” of my youth. I cringe to think of how strongly I had advocated for the “purity” culture (which was way more than just sexual purity). I listened only to Christian CDs. Even now, when someone refers to a certain secular song, I shrug. “I kinda grew up under a rock,” I grin lopsidedly.

Unlike me, my husband grew up largely outside the church, which meant he missed these “culture wars”. So, instead of drawing lines of black and white in cultural issues, he sees things less rigidly: he understands better the intricate combinations of good and evil, truth and untruth. 

In movies, my husband looks beyond the genres to see the good triumph in its battle against evil; in secular music, he can hear the soul-level questions conveyed with perhaps more honesty than Christians are comfortable with. 

A few weeks ago, my daughter sent me Taylor Swift’s This is Me Trying—because it illustrated my daughter’s own struggles with mental health. She innately felt like that song “got” her. You won’t likely hear the lyrics of “Christian” songs saying my words shoot to kill when I’m mad or I didn’t pour the whiskey, but they also didn’t capture the depths of my daughter’s conflict and longing.

My husband’s also taught me how sometimes when I lump cultural matters into black and white—trying to eliminate all ambiguity–I may miss some of God’s truth that human culture illuminates poignantly. Especially when it’s the brokenness of sin and our great need for a rescuer.

Am I suggesting you pull a Game of Thrones marathon? Not really. I’m not offering some convoluted excuse to overturn what the Bible says about thinking things that are true, noble, right, and lovely (Philippians 4:8), or to love what the world offers us (1 John 2:15). 

This is about learning discernment and resisting the urge to resort to simplistic categories for cultural issues and people (especially because culture wars tended to bring out a Pharisee-like superiority in my heart).

Christians Seeking Entertainment: Yay or Nay? I’m bored. I have nothing to do. There’s nothing good to watch, and I’m done gorging on all the Game of Thrones episodes. There’s not a lot happening on my Facebook newsfeed; it’s the same whenever I scroll through it.

Learning to discern God’s truth

As Augustine famously wrote, “All truth is God’s truth.” That means whatever our culture uncovers of God’s truth still belongs to God, and we can celebrate it as such. 

We can search out the beauty and truth our culture unveils, and turn them to God’s ends. I see this when Paul openly quotes secular poetry and myths in Athens, hijacking it for the sake of uncovering the truth the Athenians crave (Acts 17:16-34). 

Seeing God’s truth everywhere, and from unending sources, changes everything. We hear it in verses like, “To the pure, all things are pure” (Titus 1:15) and “Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eye is healthy, your whole body is full of light” (Matthew 6:22). God’s truth helps me discern and recognise truth in all things, able to learn from any source at any time because it’s all filtered through His Word and His Spirit.  

Instead of shielding our kids, my husband and I choose to use cultural interactions and media as stepping stones for some of our most crucial discussions with them.

For example, when my kids were smaller, I allowed them to watch Bill Nye The Science Guy. Now, Bill Nye believes quite differently from what I do. He’s extremely outspoken in his view that God did not make the world. And yet he is a fantastic science teacher. And I believed my kids, knowing Who is the true Source of science, could still learn a lot about the world He made through Bill Nye. 

So I listened in on what Bill Nye’s videos are saying, and used it as a springboard for conversations that may prepare them for apologetics for the rest of their lives—in their own heads, and with others. God willing, they will master that truth and use it for His honour.  

Here’s a more recent one: A famous podcaster in my country, who one of my teenagers likes, openly uses marijuana. Rather than banning the podcast from a 17-year-old, we thought it was a good opportunity to ask my son questions about what he thinks—to teach him discernment. What does this podcaster do well? What does he get wrong? What do you think about him using his platform to advocate for weed? 

Rather than seeing cultural themes as affronts to my faith, I’ve begun to see more of these as openings for dialogue toward God. Doing so makes my husband and me gratefully aware of God working everywhere. It turns a lot of the more “secular” into sacred.

It also reminds me that I’m no better than others, and that I’m just as profoundly in need of Jesus. More to the point—is corruption always outside of us? Or does it also arise from sinful desires, perhaps hidden ones, already inside? Remember Jesus’s words: “For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person” (Matthew 15:19-20). 

How Entertainment Helps us Enjoy Life to the Fullest What are your favorite forms of entertainment? Mine are reading and sports. My perfect day of rest is spent exercising for a few hours in the gym or cycling on the park connectors, before curling up with a good book.

Using culture to engage people who need Jesus

So we continue to use culture toward redemption, because holing ourselves up in a secular-culture-free bunker makes us miss not only ways to grow and learn and see God’s redemptive elements, but also opportunities to engage real people who need Jesus. 

When I lived in Uganda, I had to learn a new language, which meant assuming the posture of a learner and choosing humility and understanding. It communicates, “I care about you enough to understand how your heart speaks.” 

I’ve thought about this upon returning to the United States, and as I get to know the LGBT+ community and invite them to dinner at my house. To be a missionary invited into heart-level conversations, I need to understand their history, culture, and language—and what questions their souls are asking. Which may occasionally mean watching a movie incorporating these perspectives. 

Tim Keller, in his book Preaching: Communicating Faith in an Age of Scepticism speaks of how we can respond with “Yes, but no, but yes” when engaging in culture matters. What he means is that we can learn to deeply understand (resonate) with the culture, to affirm its questions even when we don’t agree with the way it goes about answering them. 

To paraphrase, it’s learning to respond this way: “Yes, this ‘hole’ that you feel, this question you’re asking, is legitimate. But no, you’re not looking in the right place. God is your ultimate yes in this; He’s got what you’re famished for.” 

Take the movie Wonder Woman. Is she a flawless character? Nope. But according to my friend Marilette, “Wonder Woman is the first superhero to be fully equipped in combat skill, yet purely motivated by love and not vengeance (or some other complicated, bitter backstory).” She argues that Wonder Woman might be the most accurate on-screen depiction of biblical womanhood. 

We may not all agree with that take, or we don’t want to make too much of fictional characters or cultural icons. But exploring ideas and themes like these in media can lead to thoughtful discussions and create openings for spiritual conversations with friends who have yet to share our faith.

So, whether you’re thinking through the lyrics and narrative of Taylor Swift or just overhearing Bill Nye, learn to trace the breadcrumbs of truth that God has scattered throughout culture to help people “feel their way toward Him and find Him” (Acts 17:27). 

Yes, keep an eye on your soul, and the stealthy ways sin overtakes us in our entertainment. But also prepare yourself to find glimmers of God in cultures He hasn’t forgotten for an instant.

Also Read:

What We’re Really Looking For in Entertainment It’s been a long day, so you get home (or off your work desk) and the first thing you do is plop onto the couch and reach for the remote (hey, that’s us too, no judgement).

This article was originally published on the writer’s blog here. This version has been edited by YMI.

The post Seeing Glimmers of God’s Truth in Surprising Sources appeared first on YMI.

Editor’s note: Divorce is never what God wants, but it does happen, even in Christian marriages. What is written here is meant to focus only on the importance of extending compassion and love to someone who is grieving.

Genevieve’s voice poured through the phone to me. She’s going through court proceedings following a horrific divorce. That’s not to mention the affair, the pregnant mistress, the mental disorders, and gaslighting. Her descriptions called to mind a life upturned, shaken violently, spilled.

Pieces of her former life had fallen from view: She’s lost her main ally in the face of the world’s onslaught. A co-parent and advocate for their boys. Her helper to pick up the kids, fix the washing machine, settle the bills. A calm presence after a nightmare. A lover of her body.

Some pieces felt irretrievable: her kids’ sense of safety and trust. Couple-friendships. Respect of their church community. Her dream to stay home with her kids.

My brain turned up a phrase I’d once heard: Divorce is death without casseroles. Genevieve describes it as “the ‘death’ of my close, intact, original family forever”.

The Emotional Kaleidoscope

Grief, including grieving after divorce, doesn’t always look like sadness. Sometimes it looks like: Keeping up appearances. Loneliness. Fury. Denial. Anxiety. Unadulterated fear.

I couldn’t help but hear Genevieve’s haunting repetition of a single word about how she felt: dirty. It popped up again and again, like an ugly loose thread in a sweater. Beneath “dirty”, I heard shame. 

Divorce seems so often associated with failure and shame—especially for Christians. She’d grown up in a church that shunned divorce in nearly every circumstance. And now, the lack of acceptability is perched on her shoulder, constantly whispering in her ear. Divorced. Failure.

In these moments, we as friends carry a key opportunity: redeeming the unspoken messages of divorce with unconditional, unwavering love and acceptance. This is our chance to show our friends how Jesus loves them–a love that’s very different from an ex-spouse’s.

Give Yourself Permission to Grieve Truthfully, my heart felt raw, as if it were beating outside of my body. My grief felt so vulnerable, so scraped and skinned and gaping, that privacy was all I could fathom to deal with it.

How Jesus Speaks to the Shunned

Consider how Jesus responded to the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4:1-26), or even an adulterous woman (“Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more,” He says in John 8).

The antidote to shame–that fear of disconnection, of “I’m not enough”—is everything the Gospel is about.

Your friend may have heard, “I failed.”

Jesus says, “You are not your failure.” (Galatians 2:16, 20)

Divorce: “You’re rejected.”

Jesus: “I accept you and bring you close.” (Romans 15:7, Ephesians 2:13)

Divorce: “I don’t know how I can go on.”

Jesus: “I’ve got hope and a future for you.” (Romans 5:5, 8:23-24)

Divorce: “I don’t love you enough to stick around.”

Jesus: “My love never gives up.” (1 Corinthians 13:4-8); “I’m here yesterday. Today. Forever.” (Hebrews 13:8)

Helping your friend also allows you to experience the Gospel from Jesus’s side of things. “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).

ODJ: compassion—not condemnation An episode of the BBC show Call the Midwife, set years ago in London, tells the story of a mother who reluctantly prepared to have her unborn baby adopted as soon as she was born. She did so because the child hadn’t been fathered by her husband. And it was probably going to be obvious, for the skin color of the baby’s biological father was black while the woman and her husband were wh

How can we help a friend move from grief to a place of restoration?

1. Make time for the long haul

Like any other grief, anticipate that the first six months, then the first year (holidays, birthdays, and heartrending milestones), will be the hardest. It’s helpful to picture grief as sound waves: First, the crests and troughs are close together. But these waves stretch out.

Walking with friends through their new, divorced normal may take the time we don’t seem to have–and again, it’s not always fun or pretty. You may witness your friend at their absolute worst. Ugly-crying. Blaming. Ungrateful. Snippy. Petrified.

Love is hard. But it’s always a worthwhile investment of our time.

You may be thinking, “What if I don’t know what to say?”

But never underestimate the power of presence—of simply being with someone. Job’s friends did their best work, actually, when they were silent! Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote these wise words, reminding us of the danger of always pressing for a helpful response:

Just as our love for God begins with listening to God’s Word, the beginning of love for others is learning to listen to them. . . So often Christians, especially preachers, think that their only service is always to have to ‘offer’ something when they are together with other people. They forget that listening can be a greater service.

So pray as you listen—even if you wonder if your friend could still save their marriage. Use the four guidelines in Ephesians 4:29 as your mouth’s filter: “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.”

Your goal is to help your friend make it through this most intense season. Help them cling to God (not you) as Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6; see also Psalm 18:1-3).

2. Ask good questions

A couple of years ago, I received a call during a business meeting telling me that my house was on fire.

Fires have to be extinguished first (obviously) before the damage can be assessed. Even the water to put out the fire–what you might liken to divorce proceedings in this analogy–created devastating damage.

But to begin the repair, much of the house had to be gutted. There was accrued mould and water damage (leading to more than one tear-out). These would have made for unstable new structures.

Asking good questions to help your friend think deeper can help prevent further damage caused by the rot of bitterness. You’re helping seek and remove what must go, to turn them away from resentment and hopelessness.

Here are some questions you can ask:

• What are you missing right now?
• What’s tough to forgive right now? (After expressing genuine compassion and working to understand: “Let me pray with you about that.”)
• What “tapes” of negative self-talk and hurtful conversations are playing over and over in your head? Which of God’s truths can combat those?
• What are three pieces of practical help that would make a big difference right now? (This helps your friend think of solutions rather than sink into hopelessness.)
• How is your identity affected right now? (This is a good chance to speak truth to your friend about how Jesus responds—see section above.)
• What kind of future would give you hope right now? What’s one step you can take toward that?

“A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver” (Proverbs 25:11). Acting as a guide for grief carries tremendous power to help restore the person revealing the pain of their story. Show God’s face to them as you listen. Receive. Mourn with. Tell the truth.

3. Build well

Your friend is in a rebuilding process. Genevieve remarks that the experience “has shaken my faith–and also deepened it”.

That means your job is to steer your friend not toward hatred of an ex–or the equivalent of rotten interior structure. It’s encouraging a neutral tone with the kids (who need to process, too! but not with an angry adult taking sides).

The book of Hebrews counsels, “make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed” (Hebrews 12:13).

Building well also doesn’t mean getting your friend dating again, which could be a lot like smoothing over gaping holes that are still reeking of mould.

What could rebuilding well look like? Consider how you can help them work towards these:

• Establish sustainable routines, empowering the kids to pitch in more (while acknowledging their grief, too).
• Make time for adequate sleep, time off, and regular physical fitness your friend enjoys. Avoid the false comfort of addiction.
• Enjoy the good distraction of fulfilling work–without being consumed by it.
• Address life one day at a time in doable, bite-sized chunks: “I finished my resume today. Then I figured out a plan for childcare”; “Tomorrow I’ll figure out how much we owe on the car”; let go of activities they can’t handle anymore.
• Identify a list of problems to be solved, and seeking advice on what overwhelms them: finances, parenting issues, whether to put your house on the market.
• See a counsellor.
• Plug into a support network. Find a DivorceCare small group.
• Refuse to spend more time than necessary in rehearsing the “shoulda-coulda-wouldas.” As friend, is your help life-giving, nudging them in the direction of a healthier place? Does it encourage them to think about what’s true, noble, right, and lovely (Philippians 4:8-9)?
• Choose to forgive and intentionally heal all over again whenever a new grief surfaces.

4 Tips to Carry You Through the Healing Process It’s been four months since the miscarriage. Some days grief shows up, more intensely for me and more subtly for Aaron, and we continue to practice what we’ve learned on how to love and help each other better.  For couples going through grief from miscarriage, here are some things we’ve learned that we’d like to share with you.

Genevieve’s story extends deep hope. “I’m surprised about the amount of personal growth that occurred for me…that something as horrific as I experienced can lead to beautiful things,” she told me. Being able to regain and re-experience things like the safety of her children, the peace of mind, and the hope of a different future.

This mimics Psalm 126: “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dreamed. Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy” (vv. 1, 5).

4. With a dedicated group of others, see how you can practically step in

Pro tip: Burned out friend ≠ helpful friend. Keep a sustainable pace. Set generous boundaries. And delegate to others! This is to be done in the Body of Christ–not you alone as the superhero.

Chances are single parents will always need some community help. There are practical ways you and other friends can be the (temporary) “training wheels” until your friend can ride a little more on their own–like bringing over a pizza, holding a packing party if they move, scheduling a massage, or steering them away from bad/wrong/vengeful behaviour.

Together, you’ll be showing Jesus to a friend at a time when his or her life looks like nothing but a valley of dry bones. Locking arms is your chance to journey with your friend toward resurrection, showing how Jesus would compassionately walk with them, without condemnation. Help your friend turn from resentment, bitterness, or victimhood–to being an overcomer with a future of possibility and hope (Revelation 2:7, 11, 17). 

This article was originally published on the writer’s blog here. This version has been edited by YMI.

The post Walking With a Friend Who’s Grieving a Divorce appeared first on YMI.

One morning I schlepped over to a friend’s home. As a stay-at-home mum of three pre-schoolers, she feels limited in what she can offer the community. But my hat goes off to her: She invited an adult day programme to her home to sing carols, read the Christmas story from the Bible, and enjoy a spread of snacks.

Somewhere in the middle of the singing, I remembered that besides just wanting to love on the participants or go through the happy holiday motions, I wanted the carols to sink into me, too, to taste the reverence and joy as it went down.

But I also know that somewhere, a part of me resists this. I find myself avoiding Christmas for a handful of reasons—not the activities, but allowing the inside of me to truly engage; to worship, enjoy, meditate and be all there.

We are tired

To busy employees, students, parents, church personnel, or what have you, the holidays can feel like more bricks, less straw. You not only have to get everything done; it needs sprinkles, fairy lights, or curly ribbons on it.

This week, my husband has just returned from overseas. My parents are coming today! And together, we’ll attend the third concert of one of our kids.

So often I tumble into traditions—you might even call them expectations—as if on autopilot, dictating and rushing my schedule as I attempt to observe Christmas from the outside in.

What if, instead, I prayerfully approached God about which activities (or not!) would help me worship from the inside out? What if, for the sake of my soul, I tapped the brakes?

Because tiredness saps my presence with Him. I have no space—no room at the “inn” of my heart.

To enjoy Christmas from the heart, our hearts need margin—space to breathe, think, enjoy, and soak in the wonder of it all.

We are busy 

Christmas lists, Christmas cards, Christmas services, Christmas charity: all excellent uses of our time. But we get caught in the classic Mary and Martha jig, right? Jesus is in our living room, but we’re caught in the kitchen with all the prep, trying to do all the right things while our hearts whirl with anxiety (Luke 10:38-41).

I’ve just got to remind myself Mary chose what was better—her focus was solely on Jesus, and this is something I should be doing too.

It’s not about having a Mary Martha Christmas Christmas has crept up on us. And there’s just so jolly much to do. Here we are rushing from one task to another, and before we know it, we’re tired and flustered from it all.

We are disappointed

Sometimes it can feel easier to simply not let Christmas go that deep in your heart because the disappointment would just be too great.

Maybe you’re wondering if anyone will truly “see” you this Christmas, or if you’ll be camouflaged within all the noise and lights.

Maybe you’re hoping for loved ones to show up, but no one can make it, and it just doesn’t feel like Christmas without them. Or there’s a conflict nipping at the heels of your happiness.

Maybe you’re disappointed with God, with how He didn’t seem to come through for you. And numbing, “shielding” your heart—though it mutes all the happiness, too—seems easier than sorting through all those “feels”.

We are hurting 

I interact on a semi-regular basis with members of the wonderful GriefShare and DivorceCare groups, dedicated to helping people who have experienced a death or divorce in their life.

Who feels like celebrating when there’s a hole in your chest? When a stocking hangs slack on the mantel, or there’s a decidedly empty chair around the table?

The social expectation to be joyful and feel warm fuzzies only exacerbates a sense of grief and isolation.

Christmas Can Be a Time of Loneliness The Christmas season sometimes feels like an incredibly lonely one for me, and listening in on other people's exciting holiday plans makes things worse. “Am I the only one doomed to be spending Christmas holed up in Auckland with my family?” I think.

Christmas happiness vs. Christmas joy

The ads, the movies, the lights: They’re designed for feelings of Christmas happiness. But Christmas joy is different.

As someone pointed out to me, consider this verse: “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds” (James 1:2). Happiness and joy are similar—but not interchangeable.

Christmas happiness is an emotion felt in the moment. When we don’t feel it, we feel numb. Alienated. Lonely.

But Christmas joy is an anchor of the soul. And I’m not talking about the Christmas “joy” the ads are peddling—“Giving someone an expensive gift = joy!”, or even the “joy” of Christmas cards, where families have to all look nice and smile at the same time. Those (honestly, sometimes fake) joys can flay open the numbness and emptiness we feel inside.

I’m talking about the joy the Holy Spirit brings with Him; the joy of Jesus lifting us from our shame and loving us completely.  When the rest of life is storm-tossed—like my friend, freshly grieving the loss of her toddler—joy remembers there is more than this place and this time. It settles in the gaps of my soul, reminding me that Jesus came because God cares enough not to leave me alone and broken.

Because He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

So, I can draw my questions and hard emotions (sadness, anger, fear, doubt) into this season with me, and engage with them with true hope rather than surface-level happiness.

Below are some ideas on how to engage with a heart two sizes too small:

Connect, for real

Maybe you could use a cup of coffee with a friend to let you know you don’t fade into the background with everyone. Perhaps they could just listen to your hurt.

Afraid of being a wet blanket? Here’s my take: I think people enjoy genuine connectedness far more than raising another glass of Christmas cheer. Despite the grins around you, no one enjoys a perfect life; everyone has their own backpack of troubles. You don’t have to be alone in your heartache.

The other night, weeping with a widowed friend in a coffee shop, I wasn’t lamenting her grief. Instead, I thought, “This is why Jesus came. And I’d rather have this than stand on the edge of my town’s Christmas parade.”

This can be how we serve. With the right heart, it brings us perspective and connectedness, reminding us of worlds beyond our own. It prepares our hearts for gratitude.

Say no to an unnecessary activity

What’s one activity that pulls you away from truly loving God and others, that feels more like forced Christmas romp than anything else? As hard as it is, try to say “no” to that activity, even if everyone else is doing it—you’d be so glad you did.

Have more of the sensory stuff that gets to your heart

Jesus brought spirit and body together, right? So consider what traditions are most meaningful to you. Make room for them.  Maybe like me, music worms its way into your heart. Or meditating near the Christmas tree lights, in the dark. Or lighting candles and brewing a cup of tea, conveying comfort and rest to your body.

Be intentional to read and reflect

Re-reading (or listening to) Biblical stories or prophecies can help you remember the hope that’s yours. I particularly like Isaiah 9:1-7, 11:2, 61:1-4; Micah 5:2; Luke 1:38; and Acts 10:38.

Perhaps you’re still not ready to let Christmas in; your heart still feels grief, even cynicism. Can I gently suggest that your emotions and body are trying to tell you something that’s worth listening to? Perhaps loss or burnout or someone’s terrible treatment of you is affecting your soul.

A genuine Christmas doesn’t always have to “feel merry”; it can even be a messy one—think of the God born in a barn, to a woman’s nakedness, with the smell of blood and cow manure. Rather than feeling like you must feel all the “joy” the world tells you to, maybe it’s time to listen to your soul—and allow Emmanuel, “God with us”, to be with you, right where you’re at, here on earth.

This article was originally published on the writer’s blog here. This version has been edited by YMI.

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It’s Time to Re-Examine Why You Celebrate Christmas We had barely entered the month of December when the Christmas lights went up in my new neighborhood. But it was the cheerful Christmas carols permeating the air each morning that was the icing on the cake for me.

The post It’s Christmas Already, But I’m Still Not Feeling It appeared first on YMI.