The Word Is Here
A Christmas Day reflection on presence, not pressure
Welcome to today’s reflection.
This completes a short Christmas-week journey through the opening of John’s Gospel. We have lingered with mystery, named resistance, explored reception, and today we arrive at presence.
Thank you for being here on Christmas Day.
By the time we reach Christmas Day in the Gospel of John, something very deliberate has happened.
He has not rushed us to a birth scene or softened the story with sentiment.
He has taken us through mystery, resistance, and reception.
Only now does he say the thing that everything else has been preparing us to hear.
“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”
It is one of the most understated lines in the Bible. There is no description of labour or light. No angels filling the sky or commentary on how extraordinary this moment should feel.
John simply states it.
Not an Idea, but a Presence
The Word does not remain an idea or a principle. It is not simply a theory about God.
The Word becomes flesh.
That matters more than we sometimes realise. John is not saying that God sends a message, or offers guidance, or speaks to humans from above. He is saying that God chooses proximity. God chooses to be present in a way that can be seen, touched, misunderstood, and even rejected.
The Word does not hover above the world. It enters it, and that changes everything.
God Does Not Arrive Late
If John’s opening has taught us anything, it is this: Christmas is not God finally showing up after a long absence.
The Word was there before the beginning.
Life was already in him.
The light was already shining in the darkness.
Christmas is not the arrival of God into a godless world. It is the moment when what has always been true becomes visible.
God does not arrive late; God is recognised at last.
Dwelling, Not Visiting
John chooses his words carefully. He tells us that the Word made his dwelling among us. The language is intimate and ordinary. It suggests staying rather than passing through. Making a home, not an appearance.
This is not a divine visit with an exit plan. It is the expression of a commitment.
The Word pitches a tent in the middle of human life, with all its noise, fragility, and messiness. Then, God moves in.
Just let that sink in for a moment.
That choice carries risk. Flesh can be wounded, and presence can be refused. Love can be rejected.
And yet, the Word comes anyway.
Christmas Without Pressure
Seen through John’s eyes, Christmas is strikingly unforced.
There is no demand here to feel a certain way. No requirement to understand everything, or an expectation of instant belief or perfect clarity.
The Word becomes flesh, whether we are ready or not.
Whether we receive him or hesitate.
Whether we rejoice or feel numb.
Christmas does not depend on our response in order to be true.
It simply is.
For Those Who Feel Full and Those Who Feel Empty
That matters, especially today.
For some, Christmas is full of warmth, family, and joy. For others, it is heavy with absence, memory, or quiet grief. Many will find themselves somewhere in between, holding gratitude and loss in the same breath.
John’s Christmas can hold all of that.
Because the Word does not come into ideal circumstances, but to real ones. It does not demand tidy lives, simply human ones. The Word comes to a world that is in turmoil.
The Word becomes flesh right here.
Nothing More Is Required Today
There is a temptation at Christmas to think something more is required of us. More faith, gratitude and certainty. Maybe more feeling.
John gently resists that impulse. He invites us to feel a presence, a gift, and realise that before we do anything, God has already acted.
Today is not for striving.
The Word has already come.
You can feel it, right now.
Staying With the Mystery
John does not end his Gospel here, but he gives us enough to rest with. The Word made flesh will walk, speak, heal, challenge, suffer, and love all the way through the story.
But for today, it is enough to know this:
God is not distant, abstract, or elsewhere.
The Word is already here.
And that, John suggests, is good news enough for one day.
May the quiet presence of the Word made flesh meet you exactly where you are today.
Sacred & Secular continues daily here on Substack. I’m grateful you’re reading, and I wish you a peaceful and joy-filled Christmas.