December 24, 2025
In Luke 2:1–14, heaven breaks its long silence. A decree from Caesar sets the world in motion, but it is God who directs every step to a manger in Bethlehem. There, amid straw and shadows, The Light Has Come. The angel’s song fills the night: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom His favor rests.” The promise spoken through the prophets has now taken on flesh, and darkness trembles at the sound of that first cry.
Devotional:
It happened in obscurity. No grand procession, no trumpet blast, no palace waiting. Just a young woman, a bewildered husband, and a stable that smelled of animals and straw. Yet within that ordinary space, eternity bent low.
The Light Has Come.
It’s hard to imagine that the hope of the world entered in such simplicity. Heaven’s King arrived not in majesty, but in vulnerability. The first sounds of Christmas were not carols, but the quiet breaths of God made flesh. That’s the wonder of this night—divine glory wrapped in humility, majesty clothed in mercy.
The shepherds remind us that grace finds us where we least expect it. They weren’t searching for God; they were just keeping watch, doing their jobs in the dark. And suddenly, light exploded across the sky. God didn’t choose the mighty or the polished; He chose the ones who smelled of sheep and soil.
That’s how The Light Has Come—into real life, real struggle, real humanity. If the glory of God could find its way into a stable, it can find its way into any heart, any home, any circumstance. The same light that broke the silence of Bethlehem still pierces the night of our world.
We live in a culture of noise and neon, where brightness is everywhere, but true light feels scarce. Tonight calls us back to the Source. The light of Christ is not harsh or fleeting—it’s gentle, steady, eternal. It doesn’t blind; it blesses. It reveals the love of a God who would rather crawl into a cradle than stay distant on a throne.
When we light candles on this holy night, we’re not performing a ritual—we’re proclaiming a truth: darkness doesn’t win. Whatever shadows linger in your life, the Light has come for them, too.
So pause in the glow tonight. Hear again the angel’s words: “Do not be afraid.” For the same God who lit the stars has come to dwell in your story.
Action:
As you light a candle tonight, say aloud: “The Light has come, and darkness cannot overcome it.”
Prayer:
Light of the world, shine into my heart tonight. Let every corner of fear, every shadow of doubt, be filled with Your presence. May Your peace settle like starlight over my soul. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Thought for the Day:
The Light has come—not in splendor, but in love.
On this holy night, we remember that The Light Has Come. God didn’t arrive in fanfare or comfort, but in a manger. He came close enough to touch, close enough to heal, close enough to redeem. The same Light that shone in Bethlehem’s dark still shines through every weary heart tonight. Let your candle remind you—darkness doesn’t win.
