It was our fifth holiday season together, and we were only a handful of days away from the most wonderful time of the year. While Kyle made his list and checked it twice with eager anticipation for every moment of Christmas bliss to come, I (Jacqueline) strained to muster any semblance of enthusiasm for the marathon of festivities ahead. He began to gush with excitement over the plans for each family member’s house we’d attend and the specifics thereof.

All the while my heart began to race, and my mind began to swirl. I calculated nap schedules; cranky toddlers and their snacks, diapers, and bottles; Christmas outfits and backup outfits; gifts to choose, buy, and wrap in coordinated paper—the list and pressure grew by the second. The feeling of impending failure was certain, and three surprising words spewed from my mouth. “I HATE CHRISTMAS!” I shrieked in epic Grinch-like form right on top of his merry Christmas cheer. Neither of us could believe what I’d said.

I don’t remember the conversation afterward, but there were tears and we talked for a long time until we reached a solution. I didn’t actually hate Christmas. However, our first few years of blindly navigating the holiday season between our extended families—with two small kids and a whole lot of naivete—had felt anything but magical. We wanted to please everyone and not miss out on either person’s family or traditions. So, we’d bounced an overtired baby on our hips, stuffed an endless flow of snacks toward an overstimulated toddler, and geared up for the bedtime resistance once we eventually arrived home, just to do it all over again in another day or two. (Did I also mention our youngest’s birthday is the day after Christmas?)

Neither of us had been wrong in our hopes to do it all and do it right. But over the years, what had increased was all about us: our plans, traditions, and activities. This is the beckoning of the world to elevate ourselves. We make little idols of colorful lights, shiny tinsel, and the gifts we buy or receive. Kyle and I reset our Christmas priorities that night years ago, but it’s easy to still find ourselves running around in a frantic frenzy spouting, “Jesus is the reason for the season,” while the Light of the world waits patiently in the shadows for us to slow down.

The thing that feels most unnatural in this hurried season is the very thing we should lean toward. Our human nature will find countless ways to increase ourselves, but as John the Baptist humbly emphasized in John 3:29–30, true joy is found in magnifying Christ above ourselves. When we seek the Bridegroom who gave His life for His bride (us), the satisfaction that will fill our hearts pales any list of our own desires. At this midway point in the Advent season, let’s allow Him to reign in our hearts and schedules and revel in the greatest gift—Immanuel, Christ with us.