The more joys and sorrows I live through personally and see in those around me, the more convinced I am that Christmas — over any other season — tends to make life’s sweet things sweeter and hard things harder.

For some, this Christmas will bring a burst of excitement as we fill our homes with lights, carols, and generations of those we love. For others, each day will be a feat of endurance as we trudge through reminders of lack, or memories of loss. Given Jesus’s assurance that in this life we will have trouble (John 16:33), we likely will experience Christmases of both kinds (if we haven’t already).

Those facing a dark season of disappointment and pain can find comfort in God’s promise to draw near to the brokenhearted and save the crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). Meanwhile, those anticipating a bright season of gratitude and cheer can reflect the compassion of our God by drawing near to the brokenhearted around us.

“Christmas — over any other season — tends to make life’s sweet things sweeter and hard things harder.”

The Savior we celebrate this Christmas sees our tears (Psalm 56:8), draws near (Psalm 145:18), and is with us always (Matthew 28:20). Likewise, we reflect his lovingkindness as we remember the sufferers around us, invite them in, step into needs, and remain steadfastly present through it all.

1. Remember the Sufferers

For those of us in a vibrant Christmas of gladness, it may be easy to forget harder seasons we’ve had in the past. Those now enjoying the constant closeness of a spouse may forget how lonely it was to be single at Christmas, longing for marriage. Those now settled into their ideal home may forget the restlessness of a vagabond Christmas spent in transitory places. Those now in a place of financial stability may forget the stress of a Christmas spent anxiously trying to pay bills, feed a family, and sacrifice to scrounge up a gift.

As we consider our past trials and the encouragement and promises we clung to most, we are quicker to identify with and comfort others in their affliction with the comfort we first received from Christ (2 Corinthians 1:4). The memory of our sufferings often softens our hearts toward others in theirs.

Some of the most meaningful care I’ve ever received has come from the thoughtfulness and intentionality of those who consistently checked in on me through periods of hardship — especially prolonged ones. We too can follow up on prayer requests shared in small group weeks prior, text our friends when their grief crosses our minds, bake cookies for a neighbor spending Christmas alone, or write a note of encouragement to a struggling coworker. We might even call a family member on an especially hard day in the Christmas season. In doing so, we assure the struggling that their sorrows aren’t overlooked.

Jesus came at Christmas to be a merciful and faithful high priest (Hebrews 2:17). We can likewise be merciful, faithful people who keep the hurting on our hearts and express it, thus reflecting how he keeps them on his.

2. Invite Them In

Grief can be lonely — especially in a season so centered on togetherness. But this season is built around the welcoming of Immanuel (Matthew 1:23) — the God with us always, whose life and death invites us into unbroken fellowship with him and a love from which nothing can separate us (Romans 8:38–39). As Christ has welcomed us, so he commands us to welcome one another, that God might be glorified in this reflection of him (Romans 15:7).

“Our God sets the lonely in families. We can be one of those families this season.”

In both instinctive and inconvenient ways, we can welcome the lonely into our enjoyment this season. We might ask them to join us in picking out a tree, invite them over to watch a Christmas movie, save them a seat with our family during the Christmas Eve service, or welcome them to our Christmas lunch. Our God sets the lonely in families (Psalm 68:6). We can be one of those families this season, open-armed with others as God our Father sent Christ our brother to be for us.

3. Step into Needs

Oftentimes, others’ troubles are so great and their adversity so devastating that we (rightly) perceive the ways God must intervene to counsel and restore as only he can. But even as we pray for him to do so for the hurting this Christmas, we can look for small, immediate opportunities to step into tangible needs, as just faint echoes of the Word made flesh at Christmas to feed, heal, and provide for those he dwelled among (John 1:14).

Maybe he’ll lead us to buy Christmas gifts for the children of parents who were just laid off, shovel snow for a neighbor with debilitating pain, or drive an elderly church member to visit grandchildren. And when we are at a loss as to what would be most beneficial to those struggling around us, we can humble ourselves to ask them — seeking what would actually be best rather than trying to serve in ways that might inadvertently burden them. God knows what we need before we even ask (Matthew 6:8), but we are not him.

We likely can’t solve others’ greatest problems, but we can meet peripheral needs to reflect the Shepherd who sees and offers to meet their deepest ones.

4. Remain Present

We spend a lot of time at Christmas talking about presents, often forgetting the root of the word as presence — a precious gift and ministry we can offer the sorrowful around us. As we pray with the grieving in silence because truth has already been spoken and we can’t think of anything left to say, as we sit with the fearful in hospital rooms waiting on an update, as we hold the hands of those crying in our living rooms, we can trust the Holy Spirit to intercede for us with groanings too deep for words (Romans 8:26).

Our God is continually with us (Psalm 73:23). We can’t (and don’t need to) be omnipresent with others. But we can offer the comfort of (even our silent) presence as a small demonstration of the steadfastness of his.

Reflecting the Light of the World

Given both the joys and sorrows around us this season, we would do well to begin in prayer, asking for a tender heart moved by the afflictions of those around us, for God to mend what only he can, for discernment in how he can make us vessels of his healing mercy, and for willing spirits to be used as such.

The first Christmas was a sunrise from on high (Luke 1:78–79) — our merciful God coming to give light to us in darkness and guide our feet into the way of peace as we walk through both the sweet things Christmas makes sweeter and the hard things Christmas makes harder. The baby we celebrate this season was sent to bind up the brokenhearted (Isaiah 61:1) — both our brokenheartedness and that of those around us — and we reflect the Light of the World this season by carrying on his ministry with the compassion, wisdom, and faithfulness found in him.

Some of the most significant conversations our family has had took place in a neuro ICU.

Last year, my brother received a cancer diagnosis that laid him in a bed we knew could be his last. I treasure the memory of him holding my hand and reminding me how much he loves me, telling me why he is proud of me, and encouraging me to continue loving God and people with my life. I remember my sister walking away from her own conversation with him in tears because of how much his words meant to her too.

Potentially terminal news, for all its unspeakable sorrow, has a way of prioritizing what we want to say most to those around us while we still have the chance. Some of us will be given time in life’s lingering twilight to relay these crucial messages. But some of us won’t. Death can suddenly snatch away, leaving no opportunity to choose our final words.

So, if today turned out to be our final day on earth, what would we not want left unsaid? If we had our own deathbed moments with those we love, holding their hands and looking into their eyes, what would we want to be sure they knew? And what’s stopping us from speaking those words today while we still have the time?

Affirm Your Love

Given that love is the sum of God’s commandments (Matthew 22:36–40), the greatest of all virtues (1 Corinthians 13:13), and the distinguishing mark of Jesus’s disciples (John 13:35), do the people we love most know how much we do? Do family members know our love for them is more than an obligatory love because they are related to us? Do friends, neighbors, coworkers, and church members know we don’t just appreciate and respect them but love them?

“Some of us will be given time in life’s lingering twilight to relay these crucial messages. But some of us won’t.”

Love isn’t merely a matter of words, of course. By grace, we demonstrate our love for others in deeds and not only in speech as we lay down our lives for their best interests (1 John 3:18; John 15:13; Philippians 2:4). In this way, we imitate God, who proved his love through Christ’s death on our behalf (Romans 5:8). But God has not been slow to communicate his love through the words of Scripture as well (Deuteronomy 7:7–8; Jeremiah 31:3; Malachi 1:2), and we can imitate him by likewise speaking our love — just as Paul often expressed love for fellow Christians and commanded them to do likewise (Romans 16:3–16; 1 Thessalonians 3:12; Philippians 1:8).

If God deemed it worthwhile to repeatedly declare his love for us, those around us may long to hear us speak our love for them too — and not only as a thoughtless instinct, but in deeply sincere moments, perhaps holding their hand, looking them in the eye, and assuring them of what they mean to us, as my brother did for me.

Voice Your Encouragement

God’s love is both broad enough to encompass the world and personal enough to enfold each person he created. He knit us together individually (Psalm 139:13). He sees us uniquely, having equipped each of his people with specific spiritual gifts (1 Corinthians 12:11). He bends low to restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish us (1 Peter 5:10), daily bearing us up (Psalm 68:19), affirming our purpose and value in his kingdom. And he has called us to encourage one another in return (Hebrews 10:25; 1 Thessalonians 5:11).

Have we commended the talents and contributions of those we love with such thoughtful, specific care? Do our mentors know we have applied the wisdom God imparted to us through them to set priorities and make decisions? Have we affirmed the spiritual gifts we perceive to be at work in our friends? Do our siblings realize we have looked to them as godly examples of obedience, humility, or perseverance? Have those we invest in heard us express confidence that God will bring to completion the good work he started in them (Philippians 1:6)?

Everyone we know, in all kinds of circumstances, encounters great troubles. Everyone we know could therefore stand to be encouraged with heartfelt affirmation — not only in a brief moment at the end of our lives, but all along the way. So if we have any words of encouragement for people, let’s speak them (Acts 13:15).

Give (or Request) Your Forgiveness

God works for good what the enemy means for evil, even in death (Genesis 50:20). He does so, in part, by using the brevity of life to expose the futility and triviality of long-held grudges. I have seen diagnoses and critical medical conditions compel people to extend or ask for forgiveness as they realize they should have done so years earlier. Learning from their regrets convicts me to avoid years of unnecessarily delayed reconciliation by extending or requesting that grace today too.

What wrongs have we committed against others for which we’ve never apologized? What guilt do we need to acknowledge for wounds we inflicted by careless words, corrupt motives, or selfish actions? And what healing might be ushered in by finally confessing these sins (James 5:16)?

Likewise, compared to all that God has forgiven us in Christ, and in light of our utter dependence on his mercy as we prepare to stand in judgment before his throne, what right do we have to withhold forgiveness (Colossians 3:13)? Even more severely, how might our own forgiveness be jeopardized by doing so (Matthew 6:15)? If love keeps no record of wrongs, we offer a great proof of love in our forgiveness (1 Corinthians 13:5 NIV).

Impart Important Lessons

Ecclesiastes concludes with the final teaching that our whole duty is to “fear God and keep his commandments” (12:13). Jesus’s Great Commission is especially significant as his final instruction on earth (Matthew 28:18–20). And I eagerly welcome summarizing conclusions of wisdom from those I esteem as they reflect on life lessons and experiences.

These instructions can be powerful in life’s final days, like a fictional character’s final advice in a climactic death scene. But I want these weighty words to be intentionally imparted (and displayed) all throughout my life too.

Do our unbelieving friends and family know that our greatest desires for their lives are God’s greatest desires for their lives? Have we encouraged them to begin with the fear of the Lord as their trusted source of wisdom, even as it contradicts the wisdom of the world? Have we humbly shared lessons learned from our mistakes in hopes that others avoid the same downfalls? Have our children heard (and seen) us prioritize heavenly treasures over temporary earthly rewards with such confidence and joy that they are compelled to do the same?

Thinking through the final advice we would give on our deathbeds may actually reveal the instruction those around us most need to hear and heed today.

Don’t Save It for Later

By God’s grace, my brother is currently doing well and continuing to recover and heal. Also by God’s grace, the timing and circumstances of his sickness allowed opportunities for those conversations throughout his process of treatments, surgeries, and recovery. But as God teaches me to number my days (Psalm 90:12), his wisdom regularly reminds me that my life will vanish as quickly as a vapor (James 4:14), and that I don’t know how much time I have left to speak. I don’t know how much time others have left to listen either.

“Each day, as long as it is called ‘today,’ let’s speak the words that matter most.”

It may be easy to lose sight of this when we are in the vibrancy of life, when those closest to us seem healthy, and when our road ahead seems to stretch as far as we can see. But every time I hear of a grave diagnosis, an unexpected accident, or a sudden loss, I remind myself that death promises no forewarning before making its claims. We are not guaranteed final bedside moments (or even tomorrow) to say what ought to be said.

So each day, as long as it is called “today,” let’s speak the words of love, encouragement, forgiveness, and instruction that matter most (Hebrews 3:13). Let’s not save them for our deathbed.