Daily Readings: Psalm 42; Isaiah 29:17-24; Acts 5:12-16
Dignify those who are down on their luck; you’ll feel good – that’s what God does. Psalm 42:1, The Message
Christmas does not begin in perfection. It begins in longing.
Psalm 42 speaks aloud what many carry quietly into this season: thirst of the soul, exhaustion of hope, tears that keep time through the night. And yet this longing is personal. It is not a crowd crying out, it is a soul. God meets us not as a mass of humanity, but heart by heart. Christmas proclaims that God knows the shape of your ache and draws near.
Isaiah widens the circle. God’s promise is to a people being remade together. The land becomes fruitful, the confused gain understanding, the gentle are lifted up. This restoration is communal. God heals not in isolation, but in relationship, reweaving trust where it has been torn. Christmas announces that no one is forgotten and no one is restored alone.
Then Acts shows us what God-with-us looks like when faith becomes flesh in the world. The people bring the sick into the streets. They carry one another. They make space. Healing happens in public, shared places. God works through proximity, through hands willing to lift, through doors left open, through a community daring to believe that mercy belongs to everyone. The miracle is not only that shadows heal, but that people place one another where healing can happen.
This is the church revealed at Christmas, not a building lit beautifully, but a body moving together. A community that holds sorrow without fear, joy without possession, and hope without conditions. We need one another because God has chosen to come among us that way. God shows up personally, but never privately. Grace always makes room.
So, this Christmas, let us bring our thirst,
our weakness,
and one another.
Let us be the place where despair is carried,
where understanding grows,
where God is encountered
not alone,
but together.
For Christ is born not only to us, but among us.

God With Us, God Among Us
We come thirsty,
souls dry as winter fields,
carrying prayers worn thin by waiting.
You meet us there
not as a crowd,
but as hearts called by name.
You hear the ache behind our songs,
count the tears we never learned to share.
Still, You draw near.
Still, You say, Hope lives here.
You promise what we cannot yet see,
barren ground turning green,
confusion loosening its grip,
gentleness finding room to breathe.
You restore not one by one,
but side by side.
You are born among us,
in streets where the fragile are carried,
in hands that lift what cannot walk alone,
in shadows stretched by faith and trust.
Healing moves through closeness,
through courage,
through love made visible.
You show us we need each other.
That grace is not hoarded,
that mercy makes space.
The church is not walls or words,
but a people who carry,
who wait together,
who believe no one is beyond Your reach.
So, hold us, Christ,
as we hold one another.
Let our longing become prayer,
our gathering become light.
For You are not only born to us,
You are born among us.
Offered by Donna Eby, in whom God delights.




