Basking in the Afterglow of Christmas

“You look like Father Christmas from Narnia!” my friend Kim once said to me. “I want to make you a costume.”

That simple recognition and invitation quietly opened a whole new season of my life. (click the picture to see a video)

Sometimes costumes hide who we are. But sometimes they reveal who we are.

I’ve discovered that some callings are not put on us; they are drawn out of us. Over the years of stepping into the character of Father Christmas, it has not felt like pretending—it has felt like becoming more myself. (If you are not familiar with the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe find more info there is a brief explanation of Father Christmas. Click here: Father Christmas of Narnia).

Sometimes costumes don’t cover our true identity; they educe and amplify them. It might be interesting to ask the question: “What costume would educe and amplify an aspect of my unique identity?” Last year I turned 75. And yes, I now look even more like Father Christmas. But more than that, my joy in inhabiting childlike wonder has deepened. Someone recently told me I am “the director of childlikeness.” I laughed, but I also received it as a great honor and blessing. Childlikeness is not immaturity; • It is freedom from fear. • It is wonder without cynicism. • It is belonging without earning. • It is imagination without limitations. You might enjoy the attached document that outlines more of the beautiful characteristics of childlikeness. (Childlikeness) Immanuel said, “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 18:3

Becoming Simeon

Interestingly, another friend said to me recently, “You look like Simeon, the old man in the temple.” (Luke 2:25)

Simeon. The one who waited. The one who recognized.

Simeon, the one who when Mary and Joseph arrived with the infant Jesus, knew instantly: “This is it!” The promise had flesh. The waiting had an ending. The light had finally broken into the darkness.

Simeon didn’t perform. He didn’t strive. He didn’t explain.

He received.

Simeon waited his whole life for one moment—and when it came, he embraced it. This year, I not only stepped into Father Christmas, I also stepped into Simeon. And something in my spirit exploded!

“The wonders of his love, the wonders of his love, the wonders, the wonders of his love…!”

That line from “Joy to the World” (some say the third most popular Christmas Carol of all time) has lived in me for many years. I said yes to Jesus when I was five years old, without any idea how much I was receiving—or how far that yes would carry me. In recent months, a deeper revelation has come: not just of the cross, but of the incarnation. I once thought the cross was the central event. But, now I see that the cross is the unveiling of something that began much earlier. The incarnation was the entry of the Trinity into our darkness. The cross revealed just how far that love would go. Jesus did not come just to rescue us. He came to join us. Father, Son, and Spirit converged heaven and earth—not as a rescue mission alone, but as the fulfillment of an eternal dream:

That humanity would live in union with God.

Looking at the image of Simeon holding the Christ child—his face radiant with recognition and rest—I find myself unable to stop gazing. I adore. I worship. I meditate. I behold.

The light has come. The waiting has ended. The love has taken form.

Held in the Arms of God

As we move into 2026, I want to invite you not into effort, but into rest. Not into resolution, but into reception. Christmas is not over. The afterglow of deeper discovery lingers all year long. Attached to this reflection are some simple daily meditations on the Simeon story and the famous painting seen above by Ron DiCiani. These are invitations to gaze at the wonders of His love as Simeon did. As you do, I invite you to step into the picture yourself and be open to whatever Immanuel might want to do or say to you. CHILDLIKENESS 7 Meditations on Luke 2:22-35 & Simeon’s Moment

You belong in the arms of the Father. You belong in Jesus. And Jesus belongs in you.

Not just you alone—but you with Him, and Him within you, for all eternity.

This image is not only about Simeon. It is not only about Mary and Joseph. It is about the Father embracing all humanity in Christ. (Notice the continents portrayed in the Simeon’s robe and the painting’s backgroud) Since Christmas, I’ve been waking early each morning, holding this reality. Sometimes quite literally—I take a pillow in my arms and let my body feel what my soul is discovering.

I am held. I am included. I belong.

And so do you!

This is not religious performance. This is not spiritual consumerism. This is the end of striving—and the beginning of wonder. This is the Immanuel Way!