Christmas magic often fades but the light of Christ shines eternal

Finding light at Christmas when life is dark

It’s quite common for people to describe their childhood Christmases as ‘magical.’ After all a child’s eyes are generally unclouded by the cynicism and worries increasingly accumulated with age. Young minds are easily captivated by the pretty lights, glittery ornaments, special delicious food and of course gifts delivered by Father Christmas, surely the most magical being imaginable. In older minds these are often overshadowed by less sparkly thoughts.

My little Romy self was certainly transported every year into a magical Christmas world via a Lufthansa flight to Nuremberg in Germany. There I spent every childhood Christmas at the home of my amazing Grandparents, along with my mother and older sister. Nuremberg could be described as the Christmas capital of Germany. The region of Bavaria itself has magic infused into its landscape and history, the home of fairytale castles, forests, medieval villages and towns, mountains and once ruled over by Ludwig II ‘the fairytale King.’ Ludwig’s Neuschwanstein castle was famously the inspiration for Disney’s signature castle. However it is the absence of the often gaudy, ‘inflatable snowman style’ Christmas trappings that makes the Bavarian Christmas so special and indeed magical. The fat Coca Cola Santa is replaced with the traditional St Nicolas and the golden haired angelic Christ Child, who delivers the presents on Christmas Eve. The flashing electric lights on artificial trees are also replaced by candles on real fir trees with that accompanying church-like smell. Decorations are often the product of traditional crafts passed down over many years, even centuries. Wax angels with golden wings clothed in beautiful fabrics, glass baubles and bells, festive figures made from pewter and carved from wood and straw stars all feature in homes and are sold in the world renowned German Christmas markets. One of the oldest and perhaps the most famous of these markets is that held in Nuremberg, first mentioned in writing in 1628. There you will find all those traditional decorations being sold in the little wooden huts, as well as the special Nuremberg bradwurst sausages served freshly grilled in a crusty roll, warming Glühwein and the spicy gingerbread unique to the city. Walking in the midst of exited crowds over a bridge festooned in lights towards the Nuremberg Christmas market, looking up at the distant illuminated medieval castle on its hill, I experienced pure magic. Likewise, waiting expectantly in my Grandparents’s kitchen after dinner on Christmas Eve, walking into the living room, seeing the Christmas tree adorned with decorations and lit candles for the first time bestowed on me both a sense of magic and the purest happiness I have ever felt. Not to mention the wonder of the open window through which the Christ Child had flown to deposit the piles of presents!

I have never felt as happy since that childhood time. The passing years have sadly inflicted burdens and scars along with a horribly persistent darkness, impenetrable by Christmas lights. Illness, whether it’s mental or physical does not respect special days or celebrations. You can’t tell your mind to rejoice or your body to be soothed because it’s your birthday or Christmas. Indeed often what the world is relentlessly telling you is ‘the most wonderful time of the year’ can be the worst of times. Sometimes the fervent desire to make it a good time in itself creates excess anxiety that worsens any illness. But often for those who’s life is burdened and painful making Christmas ‘just ok’ is the most precious gift. It baffles me that even many people who see themselves as try to help alleviate festive stress are detached from the reality of true suffering. A recently received Christmas newsletter from a private mental health practice emphasised not striving for a ‘perfect Christmas’, with a tree worthy of Harrods and a dinner worthy of Nigella Lawson. Don’t beat yourself up if your dinner table isn’t dressed as glamorously as in glossy magazines! This is sound advice for people who are healthy and problem free. For the ill and distressed perfection isn’t even in their vocabulary. For them ‘coping with Christmas’ is about trying to avoid harm and struggling to survive not about avoiding overcooked turkey and unimaginative pre dinner nibbles. If you’re worrying about not having enough matching serviettes you are blessed.

My first difficult Christmas was aged 15, when my mind had been taken over with obsessions and worries around food. My health problems have shape shifted throughout the years but chronic illness has been a constant, even and often especially at Christmas. Increasingly during the last decade struggling with food and alcohol has not just dampened festive cheer but eradicated it. When you suffer from a hypersensitivity to taste that makes every mouthful potentially horrendous, and eating becomes a daily battle to sustain life, Christmas really rubs salt into the proverbial wounds. Indeed salt is a major problem for me, as is anything sweet and often the taste of alcohol . . . So basically all the Christmassy food is a nightmare. I’ve already wept after my stubborn attempts to eat a few Christmas chocolates and a mince pie. Of course Christmas isn’t just food. However those who dismiss it as an irrelevant indulgence are utterly disingenuous. Since the dawn of time humans have bonded and rejoiced over food and drink. To remove that is almost to remove a part of one’s human nature.

What is near universally cited as the ‘meaning of Christmas’, beyond its Christian origin, is that bonding between people and especially ‘family.’ Therefore the loss of a beloved family member or friend also ushers darkness into the season of light. The last two years of Covid and the horrific impact of lockdowns have been a period of bereavement for many. The painful absence of a loved one becomes even more acute at times that evoke special memories and when everyone else seems to be enjoying their family. However even time with family can be painful for some, with discord that was bubbling below the surface often bursting open like a Christmas cracker containing incendiary emotions. Money, that great universal source of stress and worry can also both ignite sparks of conflict and then extinguish sparks of joy.

The Bible has a lot to say about joy and about light and darkness. There’s a great deal of pleasurable eating, drinking and festivities in scripture. Jesus chose a wedding feast to perform his first miracle and chose that miracle to be the turning of water into wine. However a certain verse from the book of Romans has always given me strength as someone for whom food and drink are a trial.

‘For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit’ (Romans 14:17)

In Nehemiah we read,

‘Nehemiah said, “Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is holy to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.”’ (Nehemiah 8:10)

Food and drink can be pleasurable but true joy and sustenance is in the Lord.

In the same way the true light is not that which comes from the various Christmas illuminations that adorn streets, shops, homes and of course trees. My favourite Christmas reading is that taken from the beginning of the Gospel of John. It is also one of my favourite Bible passages in general and perhaps one of the most important for those overwhelmed by darkness.

‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.’ (John 1: 1-4)

Last Tuesday I read the first lesson in our village church’s nine lessons and carols service. It was terrible day for me. I only just made it to the service with the help of some anxiety medication. Yet as I spoke the words I felt a renewed awareness of the true light that is Christ and his gift of salvation in Him.

‘The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned . . . For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end.’ (Isaiah 8: 2, 6-7)

Often having a well meaning Christian tell you to focus on your blessings and your hope in Christ can be impossible to absorb in the midst of hardship and pain. It’s easy for them to say if they are not also suffering and it can feel too intangible. However as I walked home from church after the carol service I looked up at the dark sky and saw one particularly bright star seemingly hovering right over our house. I kept my eyes on it and standing outside my front door I imagined the wise men couldn’t have had a clearer sign. God’s light, his great love, doesn’t depend on how you or I feel. The joy of being saved through Christ’s death and resurrection isn’t a feeling. Even when all you can see is darkness and all you can feel is pain, God is there. ‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.’

Merry Christmas.