Christmastime is supposed to be a season of light, laughter, and gathering. Yet for many, Yuletide cheer is the hardest thing to muster. The songs are cheery, and the world insists on joy with every holiday greeting. But perhaps you carry too many memories of Christmases long, long ago—when you were not deprived of the presence of your loved one.

Grief can feel as if you’re standing outside in the cold, staring through a window at a life you no longer recognize. There are empty chairs around tables. Cards arrive with familiar handwriting now missing. Beloved voices are no longer heard, except in cherished recordings tucked away on phones, cameras, or old cassette and VHS tapes.

And so today we pray for those who carry sorrow to the manger. We remember the words of Isaiah: “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.” We are not alone. Christ is not distant from pain—He was born into it. The Son of God stepped into a world where mothers wept in Bethlehem. That first Christmas was filled with Rachel’s weeping over her children (cf. Jer. 31:15). And Jesus comes still to those who mourn today.

God of all comfort, draw near to the brokenhearted. Gather those who grieve beneath Your wings. Give strength for mornings that feel empty. Give rest in nights that will not end. Let memory be gentle, not cruel. And where loneliness runs deep, speak the truth that You are
here: Immanuel, God with us.

Lord Jesus, cradle Your people who mourn. May those who grieve be surrounded by patient friends, by kindness, and by the unexpected peace Your presence unfailingly brings. And may the promise of Christmas—“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it”—carry them through.

Amen.

Maranatha,

Jordy