Christmas: The Same Light, A Wider Sky
Christmas has always been sacred to me. I was raised within its story—the familiar glow of candlelight, the reverence of hymns, the quiet understanding that this season meant more than decorations or tradition. Christmas was about God, about love made visible, about faith woven into everyday life. It shaped how I understood kindness, forgiveness, humility, and hope. That foundation has never left me.
As time unfolded and life asked more of me—through joy, heartbreak, questions, and growth—my understanding of faith expanded. What once felt singular began to feel vast. What once bore a single name began to reveal many expressions.
Today, I still believe in God. But the name that resonates most deeply with me now is Spirit. Not because I have turned away from my upbringing, but because I have walked deeper into it.
Spirit, to me, is the breath that animates creation. The presence that comforts without condition. The love that moves through scripture, through silence, through nature, through people. The same God I was taught to trust—now understood through a wider lens shaped by lived experience. Christmas, in this season of my life, is where those truths meet. It is where my roots and my growth hold hands.
The Sacred Meaning of the Birth
The Christian story of Christmas is not about power or perfection—it is about arrival. God did not come wrapped in certainty or authority, but in vulnerability. In the form of a child. In the middle of a world already weary. That truth still anchors me.
The birth of Christ reminds us that divinity chose intimacy over distance. That holiness entered human life not to dominate it, but to understand it. This is not a story that demands blind belief—it invites relationship. And whether one speaks the name God, Spirit, Christ, or Love, the essence remains the same: something eternal stepped into the ordinary to remind us we are not alone.
Love as the Throughline
At its core, Christmas has always been about love. Not the loud or performative kind—but the quiet, steady love that shows up. The love that forgives. The love that listens. The love that chooses compassion even when it would be easier not to. This is the belief I carry forward from my upbringing, unchanged. Spirit—God—moves through love. And when we act from love, we are already in communion.
This is why generosity feels natural this time of year, why kindness softens us. Why forgiveness feels closer to the surface, these are not obligations of belief—they are expressions of Spirit at work.
A Faith That Has Grown, Not Disappeared
I know that, for some, the evolution of faith can feel unsettling—especially for those who raised us, loved us, and prayed for us. So let me say this plainly, with tenderness: I did not lose my faith. I grew into it.
The values I was taught—love your neighbor, walk humbly, care for the vulnerable, trust in something greater than yourself—still guide me. They are lived now through a path that reflects who I am today.
Christmas reminds me that faith is not meant to be frozen in time. It is intended to be lived. And sometimes, living means listening to the quiet voice within that says: This is how Spirit speaks to you now.
Closing Reflections
Christmas, for me, is no longer about choosing between who I was and who I am becoming. It is about bridging the child who learned faith through tradition with the adult who understands Spirit through experience.
Bridging scripture and silence. Prayer and presence. Belief and becoming.
I still bow my head in reverence. I still light candles with intention. I still trust that love is the truest language of the divine.
But now, I walk my own path—guided by the same light, even if I call it by a different name.
If Christmas teaches us anything, it is that Spirit meets us where we are—not where others expect us to be. That love does not require sameness to remain sacred. And that faith, like light, can take many forms while still coming from the same source.
May this season remind us all that growth is not betrayal. That evolution does not erase devotion. And that the light we were given as children can grow brighter when we learn to carry it in our own way.
By Candlelight,
HN Staples
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
—HN Staples
