When Life Doesn’t Make Sense
So This Is Christmas • Sermon • Submitted • Presented
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Well good morning!
If we haven’t met yet, my name is Kyle, and I serve as the Lead Pastor here at Anchor City.
If you want to follow along with me this morning and take notes, you can do that by tapping the disk on the seat infront of you and clicking todays message notes. That will take you to the youversion bible app where you’ll find my notes.
Ladies and gentlemen… it is Christmas week.
Christmas is my favorite time of year.
The music changes.
The lights go up.
And even people who don’t believe the story still pause for the season.
But here’s the reality:
While everything on the outside says “joy,” for many of us, life on the inside doesn’t make sense.
Maybe you’re here today smiling through some pain.
Maybe you’re wondering how you’re supposed to feel merry when this year has felt anything but.
And if that’s you, I need you to understand something:
Just because it doesn’t make sense doesn’t mean God isn’t in it.
Because the story of Christmas—the real story—doesn’t make sense.
And that’s exactly where Jesus shows up—in the part that doesn’t make sense.
Let me show you what I mean.
Jesus is born to a young woman—engaged, but not yet married—who’s never been with a man.
Try explaining that to your family.
Try explaining that to your fiancé.
Joseph hears the news and makes plans to quietly call off the engagement.
Because what else do you do when the story doesn’t add up?
The whole thing almost fell apart before it even began.
No crowds. No clarity. No comfort.
Just confusion, scandal, and the quiet whisper of a plan that only made sense to heaven.
And yet—God was in it.
And then…to make matters worse…go with me to Luke 2
1 In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered.
2 This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria.
3 And all went to be registered, each to his own town.
4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David,
5 to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child.
6 And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth.
7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
To make matters worse, Caesar Augustus makes it mandatory that everyone must be registered.
This wasn’t just paperwork.
It wasn’t a quick form or a harmless headcount.
It was Rome flexing its power.
When Luke writes, “all the world should be registered,” he’s talking about the Roman Empire — the known world at the time.
And “registration” meant lining up, being counted, being taxed, and being reminded that you were under Caesar’s rule.
It was about control, not convenience.
So now Joseph — with Mary, who is very pregnant — has to travel 90 miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem.
No car. No comfort. No choice.
Nothing about this makes sense.
And yet…this is exactly where God chooses to enter in.
I’ve titled the message this morning:
When Life Doesn’t Make Sense
Pray
Does anybody else love Christmas music?
Over the years, I’ve realized there are four different categories of Christmas music.
First, you’ve got the “Jesus is Born” songs.
These are the classics — O Holy Night, Silent Night, Hark the Herald Angels Sing.
The kind of songs that give you goosebumps if you’re paying attention to the lyrics.
Second, there are the “I Want Presents” songs.
Songs like Santa Baby, Run Run Rudolph, All I Want for Christmas Is You — you know, the ones that feel more like a shopping list than a carol.
They’re catchy… but let’s be real, they’re a little self-centered.
Third, there are the “I’m Just Silly for Christmas” songs.
Stuff like Jingle Bell Rock, Frosty the Snowman, Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, Feliz Navidad.
And for some reason… a lot of these songs seem to revolve around drinking.
Like — why is half the playlist just people getting tipsy under mistletoe?
“Have a Holly Jolly Christmas…” ” — and in case you didn’t hear… have another drink.
“Baby, It’s Cold Outside” — which, let’s be honest, hasn’t aged all that well.
Apparently, nothing says “Jesus is born” like mild intoxication and questionable decision-making.
And then… there’s the fourth category.
This one’s my favorite — and probably the most honest.
It’s the sad/emotional Christmas songs.
Songs like I’ll Be Home for Christmas.
Dolly Parton’s Hard Candy Christmas.
Elvis’s Blue Christmas.
And of course — Christmas Shoes.
Y’all. I cry every single time.
Literally Tuesday, Alyssa and I were out shopping.
I put it on — and by the time the chorus hits, I’m crying in the car.
She’s laughing. I’m wiping my eyes.
Total emotional breakdown in the outlet mall parking lot.
But honestly… I think that’s part of what makes Christmas music so powerful.
It doesn’t just sing about the light — it sings in the middle of the dark.
Not every Christmas is cheerful.
Not every season feels easy.
And some of the most powerful Christmas songs were written in moments of pain.
Take “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
We all know it. It sounds soft and sentimental.
Let me read you the lyrics we all recognize:
Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
From now on,
Our troubles will be out of sight…
Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore,
Faithful friends who are dear to us,
Gather near to us once more…
Through the years we all will be together,
If the fates allow…
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough,
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.
Classic. Beautiful.
But here’s what you may not know…
That song was written during World War II — when families were separated, soldiers were dying, and no one knew if the world would ever feel normal again.
And knowing that already makes those lyrics hit differently.
But the version I just read you?
That’s not the original.
Those were the revised lyrics Judy Garland requested, because the original version… was dark.
Here’s how the song was first written:
Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
It may be your last.
Next year we may all be living in the past.
Pop that champagne cork.
Next year we may all be living in New York.
Faithful friends who were dear to us,
Will be near to us no more.
But at least we all will be together,
If the Lord allows…
From now on,
We’ll have to muddle through somehow.
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now..
Let that sit for a second.
“We’ll have to muddle through somehow.”
That’s not cheerful — but it’s honest.
And somewhere along the way, we’ve lost the ability to be honest.
Our culture teaches us to hide pain.
To smile for the picture.
To filter the hard stuff.
To act like we’re fine — even when we’re falling apart.
But that lyric? It tells the truth:
Sometimes, all you can do is muddle through.
And here’s the beauty of Christmas — God enters right there.
Not in the polished. Not in the perfect.
But in the mess, the fear, the uncertainty.
And that’s where John begins his gospel.
Not with shepherds or stars. Not with mangers or Magi.
But with something eternal. Something cosmic.
He takes us all the way back to the beginning:
1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
2 He was in the beginning with God.
3 All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.
4 In him was life, and the life was the light of men.
5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
The Word is Jesus.
In the beginning… was Jesus.
And Jesus was with God.
And Jesus was God.
Now — I know John is talking in the past tense.
But he doesn’t just mean Jesus was back then.
He means:
Before anything else existed… Jesus already was.
Not created. Not starting out. Not showing up.
He was. Eternal. Pre-existent. Divine.
That means this baby in the manger — He’s not new to the story.
He wrote the story.
He spoke galaxies into being…
and then chose to enter the world He made.
On purpose. In flesh. In vulnerability.
Because light doesn’t wait for the darkness to go away.
Light enters it.
We live in a world that doesn’t always make sense.
Things happen that we can’t explain.
And we spend so much of our effort and energy asking one question: Why?
Why me?
Why now?
Why did this happen?
We say we want answers…
But if we’re honest — we don’t want answers.
We want control.
But God doesn’t offer control; He offers presence.
His presence doesn’t make every mystery disappear, but it brings a deeper kind of clarity — the kind that lets you say:
“I don’t know what’s happening, but I know Who’s here.”
This is the kind of clarity Mary and Joseph had.
They didn’t understand the why.
They didn’t fully know the what.
But they knew the Who.
They trusted — even in confusion — that God was present.
And they would come to know, long before John ever wrote it down:
14 And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.
Think about that for a moment…
Because the incarnation of Jesus makes absolutely no sense.
The Infinite becomes infant.
The Eternal steps into time.
The Creator cries in a cradle.
The Almighty becomes vulnerable to hunger, fear, and pain.
The Christmas story doesn’t make sense — because a love this deep can’t.
Go back to Luke 2 with me.
1 In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered.
2 This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria.
3 And all went to be registered, each to his own town.
4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David,
5 to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child.
6 And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth.
7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
Can you imagine what the trip to Bethlehem was like?
Mary — very pregnant. Likely nine months along. Due at any moment.
Traveling 90 miles through rough terrain. No car. No rest stops. No comfort.
I can promise you: It was not a silent night.
Because you know Mary let Joseph have it for not booking the inn before they left the house…
“Really, Joseph? You knew I was this pregnant — and you didn’t make a reservation?”
“You’re telling me the Son of God is about to be born, and we’re doing this in a barn?”
“An angel showed up — and you still forgot to plan?”
Let’s be honest — that would’ve been our reaction.
And yet… God was in it.
Not in the comfort. Not in the plan.
But in the chaos.
Now here’s the swerve…
Jesus wasn’t actually born in a cute little wooden barn with soft hay and gentle animals.
He wasn’t placed in some cozy, Pinterest-worthy setting — despite what our front yard nativity scenes might suggest.
You know the ones — Mary’s glowing and apparently enjoying the little drummer boy’s loud banging.
Joseph looks refreshed, like he just came back from a men’s retreat.
And even the animals seem freshly bathed and ready for a Christmas card photo.
It’s sweet.
But it’s not the scene Luke describes.
Most scholars agree:
Jesus was born in a cave.
A hollowed-out space on the edge of Bethlehem — used to shelter animals.
But not just any animals.
It was a cave used to raise lambs.
Lambs that would one day be led to the temple… to be sacrificed.
So get this — don’t miss it:
The Lamb of God was born in the very place where sacrificial lambs were raised.
From the moment of His birth, His mission was clear.
This wasn’t just about coming near — It was about laying down His life.
What didn’t make sense at the time…was God setting up something greater.
God’s Presence is greater than your understanding.
So don’t spend your life endlessly chasing the why…and miss the Who.
18 The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.
I want you to look at me for a moment…
Maybe the place that hurts most is the place He’s most present.
In Matthew 1:23, an angel appears to a broken and hurting fiancé.
Joseph is trying to make sense of what just happened.
The woman he loves is pregnant…and they haven’t even been together.
He’s likely frustrated. Confused. Feeling betrayed. Questioning everything.
But look at what happens:
23 “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means, God with us).
Not an explanation. Not a timeline. Not a fix.
Just a name: Immanuel.
That’s the Hebrew word that means: God with us.
That was the promise Joseph needed — and it’s the one you need too.
But here’s the problem…
Too often, we say Immanuel on the outside — God with us — but on the inside… we feel something else.
We feel what I’ll call a different Hebrew word:
LoImmanuel — God not with us.
It’s the quiet doubt behind our worship.
The silent ache beneath our joy.
It’s what we feel when prayers go unanswered.
When the healing doesn’t come.
When the silence gets louder than our songs.
LoImmanuel is the language of a heart that still has to show up everyday…but wonders if God ever will.
It’s the thought that whispers: “I know where I am… but where is God?”
Remember earlier — when I read the lyrics from Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas?
Did anyone notice a subtle change that was made?
The version we all know says:
“If the fates allow…”
But the original — written in a moment of war, separation, and sorrow — said something very different:
“If the Lord allows.”
That wasn’t just a lyric change.
It was a worldview shift.
From trusting a personal, present God…to hoping maybe the universe cooperates.
And This is what happens when we try to filter our pain instead of leaning into it.
We rewrite the lyrics of our lives.
We trade Immanuel for LoImmanuel.
Maybe you’re here today… and LoImmanuel is really resonating with you right now.
You feel that way.
It sounds like your story.
Can I be honest with you?
That’s not even a real Hebrew word.
It’s just taking the Hebrew word for “not” — “Lo” — and attaching it to Immanuel.
It’s not found in Scripture.
It’s not recognized.
It’s just a made-up word… trying to name a very real feeling.
Do you want to know why it’s not a real word?
Why I had to make it up?
Because Immanuel.
Because God with us is the real promise.
Because even when it doesn’t feel like it — He is here.
I need you to understand that this morning.
He’s not far.
He’s not off in the distance.
He’s not just “up there.”
He is right here.
Right now.
In this room.
In your story.
In your questions.
In your pain.
And I know — you still want to know why.
Why it happened.
Why it hurt.
Why He didn’t stop it.
But here’s the truth:
Jesus didn’t come to explain the darkness. He came to shine into it.
He didn’t come to lay out a timeline or hand you a spreadsheet.
He came to enter the mess — to step into the very places we thought were too far gone.
He came to prove once and for all:
God is not intimidated by your brokenness.
He walks right into it.
And sometimes we wish He’d just fix it — right now.
Take the pain away.
Reverse the loss.
Answer the questions.
But hear me:
God doesn’t always fix what’s broken; He enters it.
He steps into the middle of it.
Not with a quick solution — but with sustaining presence.
Not with an escape plan — but with Emmanuel.
Because more than answers, we need a God who’s with us.
More than resolution, we need a Redeemer who stays.
You may not understand why the diagnosis came.
You may not understand why the relationship ended.
You may not understand why it didn’t happen for you.
But you know Who is here — And that’s far better than understanding.
Maybe you’re thinking, Yeah, that’s easy for you to say. You don’t know the pain I carry.
You’re right.
But I know the pain I carried for so long.
Truth is… It doesn’t make sense that I love Christmas.
If I’m being honest — I should hate it.
Back in 2009, I prayed for months —“God, just let me see my father.”
It had been years since we’d seen each other. I was praying for restoration. Reconnection.
Then Christmas 2009 came…
And my father was killed.
The hope of seeing him again — died that day too.
And I remember asking:
God, where are You?
God, why did this have to happen?
I never got answers.
But what I did get — Was the undeniable, overwhelming, never failing presence of God.
And here’s what I learned:
We don’t need life to make sense — we need God to make His presence known.
That’s the beauty of Christmas.
He came to make His presence known — And you can know it… today.
I don’t know what your holding onto today.
But It’s time to put it down.
It’s time to step into His presence.
Maybe you’ve been living in a LoImmanuel mindset.
Feeling distant. Disconnected.
Maybe faith has felt more like pretending than trusting.
Or maybe you’ve never actually trusted Jesus — not really. Not personally.
But right now… something in you knows.
He’s here.
And you’re ready to respond.
I’m not going to lead you in a scripted prayer.
Because this isn’t about the right words.
It’s about an honest heart.
So if you’re ready — right now, in your own words — Talk to Him.
Tell Him you trust Him.
Tell Him you want Him near.
Tell Him you’re ready to let go of control… and receive His grace.
And if that’s you — I’d love to pray for you.
