Christmas 2024

 


Picture by Miss Sophie Looby
(Fr. Chris Looby's niece)

“O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.”

Where do we go to adore Him?
Where do we find Him today?

The Gospel tells us something so striking: “She wrapped Him in swaddling clothes and laid Him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn.”

No room. No space. The Savior of the world—God Himself—came to us in the most humble of ways. 

He wasn’t born in a palace, in a place of honor, or even in comfort. 

He came to us in the margins, in a place where others had turned Him away. And there, in that lowly manger, the angels sang, and the shepherds came to adore.

But today, as we sing “O come, let us adore Him,” I wonder: Where do we find Him? And do we make room for Him in our lives, or do we close the door?

The truth is, Christ still comes to us in the same way—hidden, humble, and in need of our attention. 

He comes to us in the person who feels rejected, lonely, or left out. 

He comes to us in the family who struggles to find shelter or food. 

He comes to us in those who have been told—by life, by circumstances, or by the world—“There is no room for you here.”

Let me tell you a story.

This past month, a small-town landlord in the Midwest opened his heart and his home to a family who had lost everything in a fire. 

He didn’t know them. He didn’t have to. 

But as he put it, “What’s the point of having an extra room if someone needs it and I say no?”

That man saw Christ in their need. And by making room for them, he made room for Jesus.

And isn’t that the challenge of Christmas? To recognize that Christ is still knocking, still asking: Will you make room for me?

The truth is, it’s easy to close the door. Our lives are busy. Our schedules are full. Our hearts sometimes feel stretched thin. 

But Christmas is an invitation.
An invitation to pause and to ask ourselves:

  • Where is the manger in my life?

  • Who have I overlooked or ignored?

  • Where is Christ waiting for me to make room for Him—maybe in a quiet prayer, in the call to reach out to someone who is hurting, or in offering kindness to a stranger?

Mary and Joseph were turned away, but a humble manger became the throne of our King. 

What might happen if we opened our hearts and homes, even just a little, to the Christ who comes to us in disguise?

When we make room for Him, we discover something beautiful. Christ comes not just to be adored but to transform us. To bring us peace. To bring us joy. To bring us hope.

“O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.”


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