A selection of short reflections written ahead of Christmas 2024 by members of the Theos team. 12/12/2024

Let Your Choices Reflect Your Hopes 

By Andrew Graystone  

God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.” – 2 Corinthians 4:6 

It’s said that human beings can survive about five weeks without food, and about five days without water, but we can’t survive five minutes without hope.     

Of course, hope comes in different shapes and sizes.

I hope the sun shines for the wedding on Saturday.
I hope Stockport County will beat Exeter at the weekend.  

Then there’s the altogether more serious stuff.

I hope I can make my money stretch to the end of the month.
I hope she makes it through the night.
I hope it works out this time.  

Is hope any more than optimism – a glass–half–full personality trait that comes naturally to some but not to others? I think it is. Christian believers are amongst those who choose hope, even when cynicism might be a lot easier. We can also cultivate hope, practice it, and make it a habit of character. Without being Panglossian, we can decide to orient ourselves towards a future that is good.  

On the basis of that choice we can live into the best possible future, not the worst one. In his autobiography, Nelson Mandela urged people to ‘Let your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears’.  

The season of Advent calls us to be realistic about the present darkness. But it also gives us glimpse into God’s future. It is precisely because of the darkness of this time of year, and the darkness of our world, that the rows of lights strung up on the houses all down my street seem so defiantly hopeful.  

It is a matter of choice to believe that the light at the end of the tunnel is getting nearer, not further away. Illuminated by that tiny light, we are called to the work of liberation in the mess and the muddle of our present world. We work to set free people who are oppressed and dress the wounds of people who are hurting.  We seek to bring hope to people who don’t have much of their own. It’s our choice to enjoy God today, and to live in the light of the freedom that we believe is coming tomorrow.   

A Whisper in the Turmoil 

By George Lapshynov 

In the five days before Christmas, one of the vesper hymns of the Orthodox Church proclaims: “The prophecies of all the prophets have been fulfilled, for Christ is born in the city of Bethlehem of the pure daughter of God”. 

The miracle of God’s incarnation marks the culmination of centuries of anticipation. But for those in Judaea at that historic moment, it was a time of profound uncertainty – politically volatile, economically precarious and spiritually fractured. The Roman occupation was enforced by a tyrannical king, while within Judaism, ideological and theological divisions ran deep. 

Yet amid the crises, God’s plan of redemption was quietly unfolding. As Judaea teetered on the brink of collapse, Christ was born, as St Paul would later write, “like a thief in the night” (1 Thess. 5:2). 

As the star rose over Bethlehem and the Magi set out on their journey, many were lamenting the ruinous state of their world. As the archangel Gabriel delivered his message to the Virgin Mary and the Holy Spirit descended upon her who was to become the ark of the New Covenant, Herod was plotting another vanity project. And while the Saviour was being born, most people, absorbed in the mundane activities of life, carried on, oblivious to the divine mystery unfolding in their midst. 

Christians like to imagine that the whole world stood still in wonder that night, captivated by the angelic chorus. In truth, it stood still only for those who had “ears to hear” (Matt. 11:15). For the rest, life went on as usual. 

Two thousand years later, we live in an age marked by its own turbulence – rife with cost–of–living crisis, looming global war, and assisted suicide debate. And while our own leaders are no Herods, it very much seems that we will never get a break from history’s cycles of turmoil. 

Thankfully, Christmas reminds us that our hope is not in the fleeting promises of political leaders, nor should we look to them for our salvation (Ps. 146:3). The time to pause is now. God, who works unceasingly in the world, is about to become man so that we may become God. So let us be very still: we might just catch a whisper of the distant hymns of the angelic choir and taste the faint perfume of myrrh and frankincense in the air as the Magi draw near to worship the divine made flesh. 

No Strings Attached 

By Rosie Bromiley 

Only last week our television plunged onto the floor, the screen irrevocably scarred with black static. But thanks to a friend’s kindness, we were offered their unused spare. Dad came home cradling the new screen, wrapped in the ‘swaddling cloths’ of old towels and bubble wrap. He echoed how our friend had threateningly commanded, “Don’t even think of giving me anything for it! No chocolates, no wine, nothing!”  

The parallels are obvious here (though the 24–inch display Toshiba isn’t exactly the Son of God)! But giving to each other at Christmas is where we showcase our feeble yet radical imitations of God’s love. 

Gifts have received bad press this year. Cabinet ministers were criticised for accepting ‘freebies’ from donors including clothing, glasses, and Taylor Swift concert tickets. The implicit source of the outcry: what do these donors get in return? The implications of such a question seemingly reek of corruption.  

Sociologist Marcel Mauss identified human patterns of giving in his 1925 essay The Gift. In short, if I give you something, there is an unspoken obligation for you to return the favour. Of course, this is not just about physical presents. We give our time, our service, our attention. Principles of reciprocity become relational, binding our communities together but not always for good.   

For years, money expert Martin Lewis has been all too aware of the dangers of reciprocity. In The Martin Lewis Money Show Live from 2023, he advised against excessive giving, encouraging viewers to make ‘Christmas pre–NUPs’ (No Unnecessary Presents) saying, “Sometimes the best gift is releasing others from the obligation of having to give to you.”  

How heartbreakingly easy it is to taint what should be kindness. Our cherished connections to each other are susceptible to be stained either by ulterior motives and selfish expectation of reward, or we are crushed by the duty to reciprocate.  

It’s why the incorruptible gift of the Word made flesh is so powerful. Jesus was given to humanity out of the relentless, free–flowing stream of love that pours from the Father to save us from death (John 3:16). He did so without expectation of repayment. No matter how hard we try, we always fall short of fully returning the favour. Christmas is a precious opportunity to defy these patterns of obligation. Instead, we can give with untethered generosity and receive in humility as we mimic an otherworldly love. 

What Hides Behind Christmas? 

By Madeleine Pennington 

Christmas might be the most wonderful time of year, but it can also be a stressful carnival. Your favourite present–to–be is currently someone else’s panic that you haven’t been ‘crossed off the list’ yet. What began as a careful budget is perhaps already a strained overdraft. Every roast turkey represents a farmer’s busiest time of the year. And so many of these burdens are hidden – whether in a lunch break, before sunrise, or before the King’s Speech.  

Much of the work of the first Christmas is also hidden to us now. Some of it has simply been lost to time. I wonder how much of Mary’s pregnancy was over–shadowed by pelvic girdle pain; how Joseph planned for the lost income that would no doubt result from a long trip to Bethlehem; who cleaned up the stable after Jesus arrived.  

Deeper still, though, another kind of work was happening – not made by human hands. The Bible talks of all babies in the womb being “taught… wisdom in that secret place”. Did even Mary fully grasp what extraordinary Wisdom was growing within her? Or did she sometimes doubt the truth of that strange encounter with an angel, many months previously before her belly had started to grow? Was she, in fact, the one being taught in secret? And who else? How were Joseph, the innkeeper, the shepherds, the wise men, all being prepared – no doubt, without knowing it – to encounter the “firstborn of all creation”?  

Christmas is the celebration of something unexpected bursting into sight and touch – the Word becoming flesh – and with it, the recognition that a living God continues to break unexpectedly into our own time and place. But before that, there is preparation. Where, then, might the hidden work of God be in our own lives this year? For, in the words of Rowan Williams,  

He will come, will come,
will come like crying in the night,
like blood, like breaking,
as the earth writhes to toss him free.
He will come like child. 

Interested in this? Share it on social media. Join our monthly e–newsletter to keep up to date with our latest research and events. And check out our Supporter Programme to find out how you can help our work.