Merry Christmas from the Top of Table Mountain

This Christmas found me at the top of Table Mountain: arms open, lungs full, heart quiet.

The climb up was steady and demanding in the best way. Step by step. Breath by breath. Nothing rushed. Nothing forced. When I reached the top, there was no need to do anything except stand there and receive the view. Sky. Rock. Wind. Stillness. Creation doing what it has always done; bearing witness.

It struck me how different this felt from the way Christmas is often lived. So much pressure to perform joy. To be cheerful. To have everything wrapped, planned, resolved. And yet, the very heart of Christmas tells a different story.

Christmas is God choosing nearness. Not arriving with spectacle, but with humility. Not demanding perfection, but offering presence. A child born into the ordinary.Hope entering the world quietly. Peace not as an idea, but as a person.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given…and He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:6)

Standing on that mountain, I was reminded that peace doesn’t require everything to be settled. Hope doesn’t need noise to be real. God’s presence doesn’t depend on our readiness, only our openness.

Sometimes Christmas meets us far from home. Sometimes it meets us mid-climb. Sometimes it meets us in silence, asking nothing of us except to notice.

If this season finds you tired, grieving, in transition, or simply longing for something quieter, may you know this: you are not late, you are not behind, and you are not forgotten. Peace has already entered the world. Hope is already alive.

From the top of this mountain, my prayer for you is simple:

May peace meet you exactly where you are. May hope grow gently in your life. May you feel held; not pressured —by the love that came down at Christmas.

Merry Christmas 🤍