The Christmas season often shines with lights and celebrations, yet many walk through December carrying a weight that others may never see. Depression can rise quietly during this time, showing up as a lingering heaviness, a loss of joy, or a desire to withdraw when expectations feel too high. For some, grief resurfaces with surprising strength.
I learned this firsthand when I was in college. I was very close to my maternal grandmother for many reasons, including the challenges in my home as my mother battled depression and addiction. In October 1990, while standing in Natalie’s small apartment in Mars Hill, North Carolina, I answered a call from my mother telling me that my grandmother had been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. She had only months to live. I was devastated. I was the first in our family to attend college, and my grandmother had encouraged me every step of the way. I longed for her to see me walk across that stage, but by the time that day arrived, she was gone.
I’ll never forget the December that followed. A season that had already been difficult for me throughout my childhood was, that year, even darker and more painful. I applied to stay in the dorms at my college over Christmas break so I wouldn’t have to go home. It was lonely, and I was angry. The sorrow of that season made faith feel fragile, and I wrestled deeply with whether God truly cared.
Scripture, however, speaks into these valleys with a steady voice. Psalm 34:18 tells us that the Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. At a time when I was trying to make sense of life and loss, those words slowly became more than ink on a page. My grandmother had endured years of pain, and I could not understand why her story ended the way it did. Yet as the months passed, I began to see that God had not abandoned me. Isaiah foretold that the Messiah would carry our griefs and bear our sorrows, and I found myself leaning on that promise more than ever. Some days were long; some were covered in a cloud. But God stayed close, just as He said He would. Through prayer, Scripture, and honest conversations with people who cared, I discovered a presence that did not fade with my emotions.
For anyone who finds this Christmas season heavy, know that grief does not disqualify you from hope. God does not ask for forced cheerfulness—only honesty—and He meets us gently in the places we try so hard to hide. Jesus invites the weary and burdened to come to Him in Matthew 11:28, and that invitation remains open to every hurting heart. As time went on, the Christmas story became more than a tradition to me. It became a reminder that God steps into the darkest places with a light that cannot be put out.
The rest is history. I love Him more today than ever, and He has blessed my life in ways I never could have imagined. His faithfulness in that painful season is why I know He walks closely with anyone grieving now, wrapping their sorrow in a love that never lets go. Look up. God has not abandoned you. He sees you. The baby in the manger came to put a new song in your heart and to set you free. I’m living proof. So are you.
In Christ,
James




