(24)25 December 2025
He has arrived
A couple from Wisconsin decided to escape a brutal winter by flying to Florida.
Something that we are all familiar with because of our snowbirds.
They planned to stay at the same hotel where they had honeymooned some thirty-five years earlier.
Because of busy schedules,
the husband flew down on Thursday,
and his wife planned to join him the next day.
The husband checked into the hotel and unpacked.
Wanting to be thoughtful,
he decided to send his wife a text to let her know he’d arrived safely.
Unfortunately, he accidentally typed the wrong phone number
and sent the message without realizing it.
That same day, in Houston,
a widow had just returned home from her husband’s funeral.
After a long, exhausting day,
she sat down and looked at her phone for the first time,
expecting to read messages of condolence from family and friends.
She opened the text not paying attention to the number it came from.
She read it,
screamed,
and fainted.
Her son rushed into the room and found his mother on the floor.
When he looked at the message,
this is what he read:
To My Loving Wife
I know you’re surprised to hear from me.
I have coverage here so I thought I would text.
I thought I’d let you know that I’ve just arrived.
Everything has been prepared for your arrival tomorrow.
I’m looking forward to seeing you then.
Hope your journey is as uneventful as mine was.
By the way, it sure is hot down here.
Can we all agree that how you arrive matters?
You made it.
So Merry Christmas.
Wherever you came from today,
whether it was just down the street
or from the base
or from Fort Walton or Navarre
or your one of those snow birds
or even further…
whether this was planned weeks ago
or decided at the last minute…
you’re here.
You arrived.
And arrival matters:
because arrival means the waiting has ended.
Most of our lives are spent waiting.
Waiting in traffic.
Waiting in line.
Waiting on hold.
Waiting for answers.
Waiting on Amazon packages to arrive.
Waiting on our spouse or children or both to be ready.
Waiting for relationships to heal.
Waiting for grief to soften.
Waiting for clarity, for peace, for direction.
We all have plenty of opportunity to be good at waiting,
even though most of us struggle with it.
But it’s once we get “there”,
wherever “there” is,
that, often times,
we realize we are not very good at arriving.
And I don’t mean just being on time.
Even when we finally get where we’re going,
our minds stay somewhere else:
what still needs to be done,
what didn’t go right,
what comes next.
But Christmas invites us to stop waiting
and to notice something extraordinary:
God has arrived.
That is the heart of what we celebrate today.
Scripture speaks again and again about people who walk in darkness:
people unsure of the way forward,
people worn down by uncertainty, fear, or loss.
And into that darkness,
God does not send an idea.
He does not send a set of instructions.
He sends Himself.
He comes.
We hear in Scripture that the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.
Not because they figured everything out.
Not because they earned it.
But because God chose to come near.
That matters,
because many of us still know what it means to walk in darkness.
Some of us are walking in the darkness of illness
whether it’s our own or someone we love.
Some are carrying fresh grief or old sorrow that hasn’t healed.
Some are struggling in marriages,
in families,
in friendships
where the way forward feels unclear.
Some are weighed down by anxiety about work, money, or the future.
Some are burdened by guilt or shame,
by things done or left undone.
And here, in this community,
that darkness sometimes includes long separations,
uncertain deployments,
empty seats at the table,
especially for our military families and those who love them.
Darkness is not abstract.
It is personal.
And it can make us feel lost.
But Scripture insists that darkness is not the final word.
God does not stand at a distance and shout directions.
He steps into the darkness Himself.
And He does so in the most unexpected way imaginable.
Not with power on display.
Not with spectacle.
But with vulnerability.
God arrives as a child.
Small.
Dependent.
Placed into ordinary human hands.
Wrapped not in glory,
but in cloth.
Laid not in a palace,
but in a feeding trough.
And that tells us something essential about who God is
and how He works.
God does not wait for the world to be ready…..
The world at the time of Jesus’ birth was unstable.
Families were displaced.
There was no room, no security, no sense that things were under control.
And God arrives anyway.
That should bring us comfort,
because most of us do not feel “ready” either.
Our lives are not neat.
Our hearts are often crowded.
Our faith is sometimes fragile.
Yet God does not say,
“Fix it first.”
He says,
“I am here.”
The announcement at Christmas is simple and deeply personal:
A Savior has been born for you.
Not for the perfect.
Not for the prepared.
Not for those who have it all together.
For you!
Wherever you are.
As you are.
And this arrival is not temporary.
Scripture tells us that the eternal Word became flesh and dwelt among us.
God does not merely visit.
He does not pass through.
He dwells.
He chooses to live within the limits of human life:
to know hunger and weariness,
joy and sorrow,
love and loss.
The infinite God enters time.
The invisible becomes visible.
The unreachable becomes touchable.
And why?
So that we might not only know about God,
but belong to Him.
Scripture says that those who receive Him are given the power to become children of God.
That is the deeper meaning of Christmas.
God does not arrive to observe us from a distance.
He arrives to claim us.
Not as servants.
Not as projects.
But as sons and daughters.
Which means:
You are not alone in your waiting.
You are not abandoned in your struggles.
You are not defined by your failures.
God has come close enough to be known.
So the question Christmas places before us is not complicated:
Have you truly arrived…
or are you still standing at a distance?
It is possible to be present and yet remain guarded.
To admire the story but never let it change us.
To celebrate the moment without making room for its meaning.
Christmas invites us to do more than pass through.
It invites us to make room.
Room in our schedules.
Room in our priorities.
Room in our homes.
Room in our hearts.
Because the truth is this:
You don’t have to wait for God anymore.
He has already arrived.
And now the only question that remains is
whether we will welcome Him.
Today,
wherever you are in faith,
whether strong or struggling,
confident or unsure,
this feast,
this celebration,
this day is for you.
God has come.
You have arrived.
And if you allow Him,
this Child will not only change the day,
He will change your life.
Merry Christmas.