I can still hear it. Our crashing pell-mell down the stairs on Christmas morning. We sounded like a herd of elephants. I can see my little brothers in their PJ’s. I can feel my elbows crashing into one of their rib cages to ensure I got there first. I can remember racing back upstairs to pick up my baby sister as she whimpered at the top of the stairs because she was both scared and excited at the same time.

And I remember somewhere, at some point, deciding that racing pell-mell was ‘for the kids.’ Right up there with the magic of all things Christmas.

It’s been a long time since I’ve pell-mell-ed.

This year, I’ve recaptured the wonder of pell-mell-ing. And also, a bit of its desperation.

Even this morning, while my body slept in and adulted through Christmas like a childless-champ (including a stocking full of fur baby toys – yep, that’s a thing) … this Christmas my heart was pell-mell-ing towards hope. Towards light.

Because this year I’ve tasted darkness I didn’t know to be afraid of. This year I’ve lived in the shadow of death. This year I’ve seen fears realized. My own. Those of others. I’ve seen darkness come in to steal joy and marriage and money and life itself. I’ve seen darkness flood hearts and minds with doubt, anger, and terror.

Maybe you have too?

I don’t know your story. But I know OUR STORY. And it’s one that starts in darkness, that feels surrounded by impossible, but has a God racing to us in redemption and light – what if we dared to pell-mell in return? Because the God we celebrate today is the God of the impossible. He’s the one who brought a baby through a virgin. The one who brought a King through a baby. And life through death.

This video captures the story many of you have walked with us this year, where HOPE was found even as it was lost.

So Merry Christmas, friends. The light has come. And in that, we have HOPE. Unexpected. Unearned. And unlimited.