"God With Us” Was Not a Metaphor

Sons Move Differently When They Know Who’s With Them

Tonight is Christmas Eve.

Every year, there’s a moment — sometimes quiet, sometimes heavy — when I slow down and consider what the Christmas story actually means.

Some years I think about it globally.

Some years very personally.

And some years, my thoughts circle around someone I know and love.

This Christmas Eve, as I reflected on the name Emmanuel, my heart kept returning to a friend.

He and his wife are at the end of themselves.

They have done everything right.

They opened their home.

They adopted two boys and loved them with their whole hearts.

They showed them the love of Christ — not just in words, but in daily, costly faithfulness.

They walked patiently with their oldest son through trauma no child should ever have to carry.

Years of work.

Years of healing.

Years of progress.

And then — without warning — the trauma erupted again.

Violence.

Fear.

Loss of control.

The kind of suffering that leaves parents exhausted, confused, and brokenhearted.

My heart bleeds for my friend.

It bleeds for the son he loves without end.

And in moments like this, words feel thin.

What do you say?

What could possibly make it better?

“I’m praying for you” feels true — but somehow insufficient.

Not because prayer lacks power, but because pain like this defies tidy answers.

And it’s here — right here — that the meaning of Christmas refuses to stay abstract.

Hebrews tells us that nothing in all creation is hidden from God.

Everything is exposed before His eyes.

He sees it all.

But it doesn’t stop there.

Scripture tells us we have a High Priest — Jesus, the Son of God — who understands our weakness.

Not theoretically.

Not from a distance.

He faced the same testings.

He endured real suffering.

He knows what it is to be pressed, misunderstood, betrayed, and crushed — yet without sin.

And because of that, we are invited to come boldly.

Not timidly.

Not ashamed.

Boldly.

To receive mercy.

To find grace.

Help when we need it most.

This is where Emmanuel stops being a Christmas card phrase.

Jesus is our High Priest — and He is also God with us.

He didn’t come simply to forgive sin, though He did that completely.

He came so He could understand.

So He could be present.

So He could walk with us through suffering, not shout encouragement from heaven.

He knows us.

He sees the trial.

He understands the weight.

And even now, He intercedes personally.

That is the meaning of Christmas to me.

Not lights.

Not sentiment.

Not even peace in the way we wish it would come.

Christmas is God refusing to remain distant.

This year, I don’t want to offer my friend polished theology or hopeful clichés.

I want to offer him the simplest, truest message Christmas gives us:

Emmanuel.

God is with us.

Not after the storm.

Not once things settle down.

With us — here, now, in the middle of it.

And this is where it speaks to all of us as sons.

Sons move differently when they know who’s with them.

We don’t walk through pain assuming we’re alone.

We don’t interpret suffering as abandonment.

We don’t carry the weight as if the outcome depends entirely on us.

Sons bring their exhaustion boldly.

Their confusion honestly.

Their fear without shame.

Because Emmanuel means we are seen.

We are known.

We are not navigating life unsupported.

Christmas doesn’t promise easy roads.

It promises presence.

And for sons, that changes everything.

This Christmas Eve, may we remember:

God with us was never a metaphor.

It was a declaration.

He came.

He understands.

And He is here — with us. - Two