When you realize the birthday cake is for Jesus and not you…
The singing hadn’t even finished. The cake was still intact. And my son was already done with his head on the table, and arms folded in. No drama… just pure, honest exhaustion.
I keep coming back to this photo because it feels familiar in a way I didn’t expect. Not just as a parent, but as a man of faith.
Christmas has a way of sneaking up on us like that. We move toward it with ideas, plans, and a sense of how it’s supposed to feel. And then somewhere between the gifts and goodies, we realize we’re tired. Overstimulated. A little disappointed it didn’t land the way we hoped.
That’s usually the moment we think we missed it.
But this is the thing I’m learning. Christ doesn’t wait for us to be ready. He doesn’t hover at the edge of the room until the noise settles or the emotions line up. He steps straight into the middle of it. Into the fatigue, the small letdowns, and the moments when all we can manage is to put our head down and breathe.
The incarnation didn’t happen in a calm room with everyone paying attention. It happened in the middle of a world too busy to notice what was unfolding in front of it.
Most days, I’m not standing tall at the table. I’m more like this. Showing up with good intentions and limited energy. Wanting to be present, but running out of steam.
And the grace of Christmas is this. The cake isn’t for us.
The moment doesn’t depend on us. Jesus still comes and enters the room with us, whether we’re at our best… or not.
Westerman.Blog 