Ever since I stumbled across Audrey Assad’s song “Winter Snow,” I haven’t stopped thinking about it and what it says about God’s gentleness. Here’s how it starts:
“You could’ve come like a mighty storm with all the strength of a hurricane; you could’ve come like a forest fire with the power of heaven in your flame. But you came like a winter snow, quiet, soft, and slow, falling through the sky in the night to the earth below.”
Depending on whom you ask, Christmas falls anywhere on a spectrum between “the most wonderful time of the year” and “the darkest time of the year.” I’m not saying anything new when I identify how the experience of being an LGBT individual in our current climate often involves pain and brokenness in relationships with family, with friends, and with God—and for many, the Christmas season tends to exacerbate that pain.
So for those approaching Christmas with anxiety, grief, or trepidation, I offer this encouragement: God became man, and from that very moment, things were and are and will be different. It means we won’t be stuck, enslaved, or broken forever, and even if things are bad now, we get to experience momentary glimpses of the wonderful things that are coming when God brings creation to its glorious conclusion. If you feel lonely, know that you are not alone; if you feel anonymous, know that there are people who legitimately care about you and want what’s best for you; and if you feel hopeless, receive the birth of Jesus as God’s bold and incredibly gentle proclamation that things are different now.
For those approaching Christmas with joy and eager anticipation, lean into that joy, and receive the hope Jesus’ birth offers. In a real, tangible way, allow yourself to become the means by which God brings about his kingdom: Look for those who feel lonely, anonymous, and hopeless, and show them through hospitality and genuine affection that things are different now. Tell them they are not alone; show them you care about them; and extend the hope which you have received.
Merry Christmas.
