Dear friends in Christ,
Grace and peace to you this Christmas from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
I’ve started a new tradition of recording the Synod Christmas message at the last church I attend each year. Hopefully, I’ll remember to do this again next year. This year, I am at St. Matthew Lutheran Church in Paducah, Kentucky, and they have kindly allowed me to record this message here.
As we celebrate another Christmas across our Synod, my heart is filled with gratitude for each of you. Despite life’s ups and downs and the mysterious, beautiful, sometimes bewildering ways God reveals God’s self, we are once again drawn to the manger—captivated by a love we cannot fully understand, but one that continues to transform us.
Christmas always seems to catch me off guard. Every year, I think I’ve prepared everything: stockings, lights that work, all the names for the Christmas cards. Yet December 23rd arrives, and I am surrounded by wrapping paper, searching for that last gift that I hid in a “very safe” spot back in July. The mess, laughter, and noise— somehow, that’s where the real story unfolds.
Isn’t that true in our church life as well? During this Advent, as I’ve visited our congregations, I’ve seen hope sprout through simple gestures: a shy smile at coffee hour, youth volunteering at a soup kitchen, the sparkle in an elder’s eyes as children act out the nativity and forget some lines. In that holy chaos, I see Christ’s light shining brighter than any Christmas lights.
Every church—and home—knows chaos, surprises, and holy interruptions. I sometimes wonder if God delights in them. The first Christmas wasn’t perfect: an occupied country, a drafty barn, a confused young couple, visitors with strange gifts. Yet in that mess—a manger in Bethlehem—God chose to enter our world, not as an emperor or celebrity, but as a vulnerable, crying baby.
Why? To walk with us, to understand human life fully, and to lead us to eternal life. To share our pain and joy. To assure us that even in darkness, Christ’s light cannot be snuffed out. To turn ordinary moments into sacred ones.
In our life as the Indiana-Kentucky Synod, ELCA, we see that God’s love and God’s hands are active among us, even amid fatigue, distraction, or doubt. Through worship, acts of service—both visible and unseen—a willingness to ask tough questions, and the hard work of forgiving and seeking forgiveness, God shapes a community rooted in hope and abundance, not scarcity or fear.
This Christmas, I offer a special challenge. Life moves fast, and each moment is a chance for grace. Is there someone you’re estranged from—a friend, family member, or church friend? I invite you—because of Jesus, and out of love—to take a brave step.
Mend a broken relationship, forgive where it is needed, and humbly seek forgiveness if you have hurt someone. This is not always easy, but we can do it because we are
loved, forgiven, and made free in Christ. The miracle of Christmas is that God came not just to be with us, but to reconcile us—to each other, to God, and even to ourselves.
Where have you seen Jesus this year? Maybe in an unexpected smile, a family reunited after a difficult season, or in those who kept ministries running despite limited resources. Jesus appears in casseroles delivered to grieving families, snow shoveled for neighbors, a text sent to someone feeling low, and in a hand extended in forgiveness or a sincere apology.
Let us not overlook the sacred in the ordinary, for that is where God loves to dwell most. My prayer for you this Christmas is that you discover Christ’s presence in unexpected places: in a child’s laughter, a neighbor’s kindness, a shared meal, and, most beautifully, in reconciliation and restored relationships. Let Christ’s love inspire you to reach out, to forgive, to seek forgiveness, and to allow his peace to make all things new.
Thank you for sharing this journey of faith with me. I wish you a Merry Christmas filled with wonder, hope, and peace.
In Christ’s love,
Bishop Timothy Graham
