Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

As Christmas draws near once more, I write to you with a heart full of gratitude, affection, and hope. I am deeply mindful of the times in which we are living—times feeling unsettled, divided, and at moments even dark. Many among us carry quiet anxieties about the future, weariness from conflict, and sorrow over a world that often seems to have lost its bearings.

It is precisely into such a world that the Church dares to proclaim, year after year, the astonishing good news of Christmas: “The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.”

Christian hope does not arise from optimism about circumstances. It arises from a Person—from the living God who chose to come near to us, not in power and splendor, but in humility and love.

At Christmas we are reminded of something essential to our faith: Christianity is not built upon ideas alone, nor upon moral exhortations, nor upon spiritual techniques. It is built upon an event—God has entered His creation.

The eternal Son of God took flesh from the Virgin Mary. He did not appear to be human; He became human. He entered our world as a child who needed to be fed and held, who knew cold and hunger, who would one day know rejection, suffering, and death.

The early Church understood everything depends on this truth. As St. Athanasius wrote so simply and powerfully, “He became what we are, that He might make us what He is.” God did not save us from afar. He came to us. He came for us. He came as one of us.

This means when the world feels fragile, when human life seems cheapened, when bodies are broken and hearts are heavy, we do not look for a God who has abandoned us. We look to the manger—and we see God has chosen to dwell with us and among us.

Much in our society today pulls us toward fear, anger, and despair. We are told—sometimes subtly, sometimes loudly—that what divides us is stronger than what unites us, that chaos will have the final word, that darkness is winning.

Christmas tells a different story.

It tells us that God’s answer to the brokenness of the world was not withdrawal, but incarnation. Not condemnation, but communion. Not distance, but presence.

Because God has taken flesh, no part of human life is beneath His concern. No suffering is unseen. No sorrow is meaningless. Even in our most fractured moments, Emmanuel remains true to His name: God with us.

This is why the Church can speak hope into dark times—not a shallow hope, but a deep and steady one. The Light that shines in the darkness is not an idea; it is a Person. And the darkness has not overcome Him.

Because God came to us in the flesh, our faith is not merely something we think or feel. It is something we receive.

The same Lord who lay in the manger continues to meet His people through tangible signs of grace. He speaks to us through His Word. He washes us in Baptism. He feeds us with His own Body and Blood in the Holy Eucharist. He gathers us together as His Body, the Church, when the world pulls us apart.

St. Augustine once said, “The Word comes to the element, and it becomes a sacrament.” In other words, the Incarnation did not end at Bethlehem. It continues in the life of the Church.

In a world that often feels unstable and disembodied, God gives us gifts of grace in our Sacraments we can see, hear, and touch—signs that anchor us in His love and promises.  In uniting the spiritual and the physical, God allows us to touch His love.

As you celebrate this holy season, I encourage you to make room again for wonder. Come to the manger not with fear, but with trust. Come to the altar not with doubt, but with hunger. Come to Christ as you are, knowing that He has already come to you.

If you are weary, know that God has shared our weariness.
If you are anxious, know that God has entered our uncertainty.
If you are grieving, know that God has wept human tears.

And if you are searching for hope, know that it has already been given—to us and for us—in the Word made flesh.

May the peace of Christ, which the world cannot give, guard your hearts and minds. May the love made known in the manger strengthen you for faithful living. And may the Light of Christ shine through you into a world that longs, even unknowingly, for His coming.

In Christ,

† The Right Reverend Jeffrey Scott Johnson
Bishop Ordinary
Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic States