As I wind through the streets of my neighborhood, I see the glow of the season starting to fade swiftly into the rhythms of a new year. The Christmas lights are coming down, one house after another, and the glass storefronts that only a few days ago held paintings of holy artistry now stand bare. Yesterday's decorations are being packed away in cardboard boxes, sorted and labeled for next December's remembrance.
There is something in me—perhaps in all of us—that longs to hold fast to these moments. Oh, how I wish to keep the lights burning, to linger upon the story of Bethlehem just a little while longer. But perhaps there is wisdom even in this swift transition, for the Child who lay in the manger did not come merely to be adored, but to set forth on His great work. Still, how my heart yearns for one more moment beneath that star.
As we stand in the first days of the new year, we, like the shepherds and Magi, are invited to move beyond the moment of wonder into the journey of faith. Yet this path is not without its challenges. The road from Bethlehem leads to Calvary and ultimately to an empty tomb, but its course demands courage, trust, and the willingness to follow the Light into the darkness.
Though nativity scenes are being packed away, the true story presses on—immediately and urgently. For in God's grand narrative of redemption, a story brimming with promise and peril, the manger was not mere sentiment but the beginning of a rescue mission that embraces us all.
When Peace Meets Opposition
The holy silence of Bethlehem did not last long. Like a stone cast into still waters, Herod's fear and fury sent ripples of violence across the land, revealing a truth that would mark Jesus's entire earthly journey:
"Now when they had departed, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, 'Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.'" (Matthew 2:13)
From His first breath, Jesus bore the weight of humanity's rejection. The world that offered no room for His birth now sought His destruction. This was no accident, for He was born for this very purpose—to die that we might live. The shadow of the cross stretched over the manger from the very beginning.
The Cost of God's Promise
While the shepherds returned to their flocks with wonder burning in their hearts, and the Magi vanished like stars into the East, a different sort of story was unfolding. The town that had drowsed through the most magnificent birth in human history now woke to terror:
"A voice was heard in Ramah,
weeping and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
she refused to be comforted, because they are no more." (Matthew 2:18)
The same darkness that would later gather at Golgotha cast its first shadow here, in Bethlehem's streets. For where Light breaks in, darkness attempts to shut out. This tension formed the first note in a terrible symphony that would play throughout our Lord's earthly life and echoes still in the lives of His followers today.
The Path Before Us
As the calendar turns, the manger fades into the background, and the road ahead comes into view. Christian discipleship is not a snapshot but a pilgrimage. Just as Mary and Joseph navigated uncertainty and exile, so too are we called to trust the One who leads us. Jesus invites us to take up our cross and follow Him, knowing that the road of obedience, though costly, leads to eternal life with Him.
"For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." (Matthew 16:25)
How then shall we walk this road? By remembering that the God who spoke through dreams and angels to guide the holy family has not fallen silent. He speaks still—now through Scripture's living pages and the Spirit's quiet voice. The method may have shifted, but the Master's hand remains steady.
Until Journey’s End
The journey that began at the manger continues until His return, and we who follow Him are not just celebrating a past event but participating in an ongoing mission. Like Jesus, we may face opposition; like Mary and Joseph, we may know exile and misunderstanding; like the early disciples, we may experience both the joy and cost of following the Lord.
Yet we also know that the same God who orchestrated every detail of Jesus's birth, protected Him through childhood, sustained Him through ministry, raised Him from death, and seated Him in glory, walks with us still. We are His witnesses, called to shine His light in a darkened world, to speak truth where falsehood reigns, and to walk with courage where fear abounds.
"Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." (Hebrews 12:1–2)
As I drive home tonight, watching the last Christmas lights wink out across the neighborhood, I now find myself oddly grateful for their absence. For is this not the very pattern of our faith? The signs and symbols of that holy night were never meant to be our permanent dwelling place, but rather a doorway into a far greater adventure. Just as the Magi could not build their tents beneath the star forever, so we too must venture forth from the manger's glow into the broader road of discipleship.
This is how faith grows: not in perpetual starlight, but in faithful steps through both light and shadow. While December's lights may fade from our windows, the true Light that entered the world burns ever brighter, leading us onward through shadow and glory alike. The decorations may be packed away in cardboard boxes, but the truth they proclaimed must be carried in our hearts through every ordinary day ahead.
This road is not for the faint of heart, but neither are we left to walk it alone. We press on, upheld by the One who has gone before us, sustained by His Spirit, and empowered by His grace until that glorious dawn when faith becomes sight and all our journeying finds its end in His presence.