The Christmas I Didn’t See Coming

I’m the kind of person who listens to Christmas music all month long, so much so that, by the end of December, I’m usually ready to give it a rest until next year. I return to the same familiar playlist, the one that brings comfort and invites me to sing along without thinking too much. Yet it’s interesting how these heartfelt songs can take on new weight and reveal fresh meaning as life unfolds. This year, as the music shuffled in the background, one song landed differently: “Mary, Did You Know?” We all know the question. “Mary, did you know that your baby boy would one day walk on water?”

As I listened, I found myself picturing the manger scene and imagining that young girl who had been given a promise: “For no word from God will ever fail” (Luke 1:37). She held that precious baby in her arms without knowing what the future would demand of her when she responded, “May your word to me be fulfilled.” She was holding the promise itself, the Word made flesh, yet unaware that she would shortly flee to Egypt to save her son’s life.

How many times must Mary have not known what to expect? How often did she discover that a promise does not guarantee an easy or sheltered life, but instead calls for deep trust? I imagine her years later, standing at the foot of the cross, as Simeon’s words became painfully clear: “And a sword will pierce your own soul too” (Luke 2:35). Perhaps only then did she grasp how deeply those words would cut. As the song suggests, she may not have known that the baby in the manger would walk upon the waters, give sight to the blind, and that the very death that pierced her heart would become the source of her own salvation.

I am not that far from that reality myself. As Christmas approaches, I face uncertainties that feel small but familiar. I wonder whether I should make beef roast or pork, whether I should invite others for a Christmas Coffee Break study and face the fear of rejection, or simply gather with my family. And yet, as the song continues to ask, “Mary, did you know?” I find myself reflecting more deeply on what this year has left behind. 

This is the Christmas I didn’t see coming. Aura, did you know this would be the year you faced some of your deepest fears? Did you know that last Christmas would be your last with your mother, and that her place would be empty this year? Did you know that amid loss and uncertainty, God would reveal himself to you not only as Savior, but as Father? Did you know that He had a path for every redirection and a door for what once seemed impossible?

I did not know. Like Mary, in every circumstance I found myself asking, “How can this be?” Yet the promise of Emmanuel, God with us, remains. He was always present, and He is still present. Christmas reminds me of that young woman holding her baby, surrounded by questions, suddenly quieted by a child’s first cry, as if to say, “I am here.” A loud promise of salvation wrapped in innocence. And somehow, that is enough.

And so I ask you now, reader, did you know?