Christmas is a season of light, laughter, and love—or at least, that’s how we often imagine it. The sights and sounds of the holidays are designed to warm the heart and lift the spirit. Twinkling lights remind us of the stars that once pointed to Bethlehem, carols echo the angelic songs of glory, and tables overflow with food as family and friends gather close.
But for some of us, the glow of Christmas feels dimmer this year. There’s an empty seat at the table, a voice missing from the familiar songs, a hole in our hearts that no amount of festivity can fill. The joy we’re “supposed” to feel can make our grief feel all the heavier. The laughter of others can seem like a distant echo to a heart wrapped in silence. How do we celebrate when someone so deeply tied to the traditions we hold dear is no longer with us?
The apostle Paul captured this paradox in his letter to the Corinthians: “Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Cor. 6:10). In these few words, he gives us permission to hold two truths in tension. It’s okay to grieve, to feel the ache of loss, and to acknowledge the weight of sorrow. But even in that grief, we can rejoice—not with a forced smile or shallow cheerfulness, but with a hope that rises from the deep well of God’s promises.
Today, we’ll lean into that tension together. We’ll face the reality of grief at Christmas, but we’ll also remember the reason for the season: the arrival of Emmanuel, “God with us,” who meets us in our sorrow and transforms it with His grace. We’ll honor the loved ones we miss—not just by remembering them, but by living fully in light of the gift of life they taught us to cherish. For even in the shadow of loss, the light of Christmas shines. It’s a light that cannot be overcome, a light that promises we are not alone.
The Reality of Grief at Christmas
Grief at Christmas can feel like walking through a snowstorm. The world around us seems to sparkle with joy, but inside, we feel the biting chill of absence. Traditions that once brought delight now carry a heaviness—a stocking left unfilled, a favorite dish missing from the table, a hand no longer there to hold. Every cherished memory becomes a reminder of what, or who, is no longer with us.
This weight of grief is real, and it is not something to dismiss or rush through. Scripture doesn’t avoid the realities of sorrow. The psalmist cries out, “My tears have been my food day and night” (Psalm 42:3). Even Jesus, the one we celebrate this season, wept at the tomb of His dear friend Lazarus (John 11:35). Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor is it evidence of a lack of faith—it’s an expression of deep love. We grieve because we have loved, and that love reflects the heart of God Himself.
Yet, in our grief, there is a profound invitation. Psalm 34:18 reminds us, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” At Christmas, this truth is magnified in the most personal way: Emmanuel, “God with us,” was born into our broken world. Jesus came not to stay far off but to enter into our pain, to walk with us through our sorrow, and to redeem even the darkest moments of our lives.
This means that your grief is not overlooked by God. He sees the empty seat at your table, the tears you cry when no one else is watching, and the ache you carry in your heart. And He draws near. In the very season that feels so heavy, He offers the promise of His presence—the same presence that turns the chill of winter into the warmth of hope.
The Gift of Their Life and Legacy
As we gather this Christmas, the absence of a loved one can feel overwhelming. Their laugh no longer fills the room, their favorite ornaments hang on the tree without their touch, and their chair sits empty at the table. But while their physical presence is missing, the gift of their life and legacy remains, woven into the fabric of who we are and the traditions we hold dear.
Every shared memory is a treasure, a reminder of how deeply they shaped our lives. The stories they told, the love they gave, the joy they brought—all of it is still with us. Honoring their life doesn’t mean we have to hide our tears or ignore our sorrow. Instead, it means embracing their legacy with gratitude. Tell the stories that made you laugh together. Carry on the traditions they cherished. Light a candle in their honor or make their favorite recipe. In these small acts of remembrance, we not only keep their memory alive but reflect the love they gave us back into the world.
But perhaps the greatest way to honor them is by living fully—by embracing this gift of life with gratitude and intention. Philippians 1:21 says, “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” While our loved one has entered into that gain, we remain here, called to live for Christ in a way that brings glory to Him and reflects the hope we carry.
They would want us to live with joy, even in the midst of sorrow. They would want us to celebrate the beauty of the season, to laugh, to love, and to cherish those who remain at our table. As we remember them, let us carry their love forward, living in a way that reflects the lessons they taught us and the legacy they left behind. In doing so, we honor not only their memory but also the God who gave them to us, even if only for a season.
The Hope of Christmas in the Midst of Grief
Amid the sorrow of missing a loved one, Christmas comes with a profound truth: we are not alone. Emmanuel—“God with us”—is not just a title; it’s a promise. It means He stepped into our world, not to remove our pain but to walk with us through it and redeem it with His love.
This is the hope of Christmas: Jesus came to defeat everything that breaks us—sin, death, and grief itself. His birth was the first step toward the cross, where He bore all our sorrows, and His resurrection is the guarantee that one day, all will be made new. Revelation 21:4 gives us this promise: “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
For those of us who are grieving, Christmas points us forward to that future hope. Yes, we mourn now, but we mourn with the confidence that this brokenness is temporary. Our loved one’s absence is not the end of their story, nor is it the end of ours. Because of Christ, we can look forward to a day when we will be reunited with them in His presence—a day when all the ache of separation will be replaced with eternal joy.
So we grieve, but we do not grieve as those without hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Instead, we hold fast to the truth that our Savior is near, that He understands our pain, and that through Him, even our deepest sorrows are being transformed into something beautiful. This is the miracle of Christmas: God with us, even in our grief.
Closing: Living with Purpose, Grieving with Hope
As we step into this Christmas season, carrying both sorrow and joy, let us remember that grief is not the absence of love but the continuation of it. The ache in your heart is a testament to the depth of the love you shared with the one you miss. That love, though it feels different now, is still a gift, still shaping you, still drawing you closer to the God who is love itself.
Honor their memory by embracing this life with gratitude and intention. Love deeply. Forgive freely. Serve selflessly. Create new traditions while cherishing the old. Speak their name with joy, and let the legacy of their love inspire you to reflect Christ’s love to the world. In this way, you not only remember them, but you also honor the God who gave them to you.
As we close, hear these words of comfort and hope from Romans 15:13: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” May your heart find rest in His promises, your soul find strength in His presence, and your life reflect the gift of His grace. For even in our grief, Christ is our Emmanuel—God with us, now and always.