It feels like something’s shifted in America. The things we used to trust—institutions, leaders, even each other—feel shakier than they used to. You can hear it in how we talk. You can feel it at the dinner table. It’s like we’re all walking around a little more guarded, a little more tired, a little less sure of what’s true.
And if you’re honest, it’s not just “out there.” A lot of us carry our own mix of disappointment and weariness: family strain, financial pressure, anxiety about the future, grief that follows us into the holidays, or a quiet loneliness that gets louder when everything is supposed to be merry.
That’s why I want to say something simple, and I want to say it clearly:
Christmas is not just a tradition. Christmas is an announcement.
And it’s a message our world still desperately needs. When Jesus was born, the angels didn’t show up first to the powerful, the polished, or the “religious professionals.” They showed up to shepherds. Working-class guys doing the night shift. And they said, “I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people” (Luke 2:10).
All the people.
Not the perfect people.
Not the cleaned-up people.
Not the “already have it all together” people.
All the people.
That includes the person who feels far from God. The person who’s been burned by the church. The person who’s quietly wondering if there’s more to life than stress, performance, and survival. The person who’s smiling in public and breaking down in private. This is what Christmas means: God moved toward us.
Not once we had everything figured out. Not once we proved ourselves worthy. Jesus came into a messy world. Into real pain, real struggle, real humanity. Because God’s love is not theoretical. It’s personal. And I’m seeing something right now that gives me a lot of hope: People are more open than we think.
I lead an evangelism organization, Pulse Evangelism, and I spend a lot of time talking with people who don’t consider themselves religious. And I’ll tell you what I hear over and over again: a hunger for something unshakable. A craving for truth, meaning, and a love that isn’t based on performance. A while back, I saw this up close in the most ordinary place: my barbershop.
