By Ebuka Ukoh
Do you remember those bumper stickers and signs that proudly proclaimed, “Christ is the reason for the season”? They dotted cars, storefronts, and church bulletin boards, representing a rallying cry to refocus amid the glitter and frenzy of holiday festivities. But what if I dared to say something different—not to deny Christ’s significance, but to expand our perspective? What if I tell you that we are the reason for the season?
Stay with me; don’t bristle just yet. Let’s reflect together.
This Christmas, my thoughts wandered to a session with a client who shared a story that has stayed with me. Two years ago, at the age of 48, he gathered with his family—his parents and sister—for the first time in 38 years. Imagine that: nearly four decades of division, broken by an unexpected reunion, not around a cozy dinner table, but at the sterile bedside of an ICU, days before his mother passed.
He described a childhood filled with warmth, laughter, and togetherness—a family that embodied love. Then, one year, things unraveled. The family splintered, relationships grew “complicated,” and for decades, they could only manage to gather in fragments. The full reunion he once deemed inconceivable became reality in the shadow of grief.
This story is more than bittersweet; it’s deeply human. It mirrors our lives in ways that feel uncomfortably familiar. How many of us carry unresolved tensions, fractured relationships, or unmet expectations, especially during the holidays? And the holidays have its way of bringing these things to our remembrance.
Christmas, for all its beauty, often magnifies what feels broken. Problems we can’t solve. People we can’t control. Expectations we can’t meet. Yet, perhaps that’s exactly where the true meaning of Christmas lies—not in perfection, but in the midst of complications.
The very first Christmas wasn’t pristine. It was raw and messy. A teenager giving birth in a stable. A scandalous pregnancy whispered about in small-town Nazareth. A nation groaning under oppressive rule. Yet in that chaos, the inconceivable happened: God chose to enter our mess, to reconcile what was broken and restore what seemed lost.
And here’s the startling truth: Jesus didn’t come simply to create a holiday or to be the centerpiece of nativity scenes. He came because of us. Our humanity—imperfect, complicated, and flawed—is the reason for His arrival.
Christmas is a divine invitation to do for others what God did for us: to love, to forgive, to bridge divides, and to reconcile—even when it’s awkward, uncomfortable, or undeserved. It’s a call to our light to shine, to reflect the inconceivable grace we’ve received.
Maybe this year, we need to redefine what it means to celebrate. Not just in the giving of gifts, but in the giving of grace. Not just in sharing meals, but in sharing forgiveness. Maybe it’s reaching out to someone who hurt you. Maybe it’s mending fences long thought irreparable.
I’m not saying this is easy. Far from it. But I am saying it’s worth it. The first Christmas paved the way for restoration, and that path is still open to us today.
So, as we navigate the season—its joys and its complications—remember this: Christ came because we were worth it. Because you are worth it. And now, He asks us to be the reason someone else can find hope, love, and belonging.
This Christmas, dare to believe that you are the reason for the season. And in doing so, may your actions inspire others to believe it too.
Merry Christmas.
An alum of the American University of Nigeria, Yola, Mr. Ukoh is a PhD student at Columbia University, New York.
