How the Coming of the Son at Christmas Brings Hope to the Fatherless

Christianity Today: How the Coming of the Son Brings Hope to the Fatherless, by Esau McCaulley (Wheaton; Author, How Far to the Promised Land: One Black Family’s Story of Hope and Survival in the American South (2023)):

We tell two stories around Christmas. One is Christian, while the other is mostly sentimental.

The first story begins (at least in the Gospel of Luke) with an elderly priest named Zechariah serving faithfully at the temple. Luke tells us that Zechariah and Elizabeth, his wife, both loved the Lord and likely harbored some hope for Israel to be freed from Roman oppression. The angel Gabriel gives life to their hope by announcing that this barren couple would have a son who would herald the coming Messiah.

From there, the story moves to a young woman in Nazareth named Mary. The wonder of her pregnancy would surpass that of Elizabeth. Instead of being barren, Mary is a virgin. Instead of preparing the way for the king, her child would be the King himself, created within her womb by the power of the Spirit, God come to dwell among us.

We need not rehearse all that follows, save to say that shepherds and angels show up in abundance. The Lord of the universe enters the world through a virgin and spends his first night well loved in a humble manger. This is our Christmas story, rightly celebrated as the beginning of a new era in human history.

The other story that dominates the Christmas cards, songs, and movies we’ve come to love centers around a different kind of family. This is the all-American nuclear family, gathered around the tree in matching pajamas and exchanging presents as Nat King Cole croons in the background. Our image of family at Christmas—well-decorated, wealthy, happy, and intact—actually sits uneasily beside the gospel of the first.

I have no problem with churches that laud family togetherness during the holidays. Nonetheless, for children without a mother or a father, it can feel like a second Christmas story reserved for the elite. …

I think of my own upbringing without a father. Around the holidays, my mother came home haggard to deal with children eager for the energy that she spent at work to keep the creditors at bay.

As a boy, I was envious and curious about the kind of family Christmas we didn’t have. Were our festivities second-class because they did not resemble what I saw on television? As I looked to the church, I wondered which Christmas story we celebrated the most and which had room for the prayers of a child who had been abandoned.

Tucked away in a forgotten corner of Luke’s infancy narrative, an angel charts the way forward for all God’s children. Despite often going overlooked, this exchange between Gabriel and Zechariah proves staggering in its relevance. Speaking of John the Baptist, Gabriel says, “And he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared” (Luke 1:17, ESV).

According to Gabriel, John would prepare Israel for the Messiah by turning the hearts of fathers toward their children. The healed family, then, is a manifestation of the coming messianic age. …

The reconciliation between parent and child during the holidays, then, has the ability to transcend mere sentimentality. It can be gospel work.

For someone who longed to have both parents at Christmas and other celebrations, Gabriel’s prophecy brought real comfort. It showed me that there was a place in the Christmas story for families like mine. The two Christmas stories (the incarnation of the Son and the joy of family togetherness) are not so far off after all.

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Other op-eds by Esau McCaulley: