December in my home often brings disaster. One December when I was nine months pregnant, a nasty stomach bug ravaged our family. Another year our roof leaked, and I cranked up Christmas carols to drown out the steadyplip plopof water into buckets. Yet another December we adopted the cutest puppy and kitten, but unknowingly adopted ringworm as well. Soon my kids were covered in fungal rashes, and we bleached our way into the New Year. Last December, a precious package was stolen through mail fraud and was never recovered. The list goes on.
These December disasters grate on my inner control freak. I want the Advent season to be contemplative, celebratory, and serene. I prepare family Scripture readings and sugar cookie dough, only to have my best-laid plans go unread and unbaked. Gift budgets are reallocated to roof repairs. Peace on earth—or even just in my home—feels like a pipe dream. Even the other 11 months of the year press on the reality that, whether in potty training or five-year plans, I am not the one in control.
Unforeseen circumstances highlight a crucial aspect of God’s character: his sovereignty. “Our God is in the heavens; he does all that he pleases” (Ps. 115:3). This verse encapsulates a fundamental truth about God—that he is in control and we are not. Grasping for control is trying to be something we can never be. This realization would be unsettling at best and terrifying at worst, if not for the many other aspects of our Lord’s character. God is not only perfectly sovereign but perfectly loving, just, and holy. It is comforting to be under the reign of such a King.
His rule, however, is not an invitation to passivity or fatalism. We may not be sovereign, but we are stewards. And Jesus Christ himself bridges that gap between divine rule and human limitation. As the “image of the invisible God … he is before all things and in him all things hold together … for in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell” (Col. 1:15, 17, 19). The fullness of deity took on flesh and came to dwell with his people (Jn. 1:14). Jesus is “the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature” (Heb. 1:3)—both fully God and fully human, though perfectly sinless.
“Though he was in the form of God, [Jesus] did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men” (Phil. 2:6–7). Christ was limitless, yet willingly lived with self-imposed limitations, laying aside the fullness of his glory to condescend for us. The Sovereign Creator grew in Mary’s womb, suspended in amniotic fluid, willingly dependent on umbilical sustenance. The Limitless One subjected himself to the limits of human existence for our redemption and his glory. The life he lived in the limitations of human flesh he lived in submission to the will of his Father. He “emptied himself” to live and die as our atoning sacrifice so that we might be raised to new life with him—so that we too might live our lives in humble submission to the will of the Father, accepting what he ordains as best, just as Jesus did when he obeyed to the point of death.
Christ triumphed over the grave and ascended to the Father’s right hand. He is ruling and reigning in power now, yet Christmas reminds us that he is also acquainted with our human weakness. Though he is sovereign, he understands our limitations. And not only does he understand them—he calls us to boast in them to display his power (2 Cor. 12:9). Belonging to Christ means, even in our seemingly out-of-control circumstances, we are more than conquerors through him who loved us (Rom. 8:37).
In the moments that don’t go as planned, we can cling to the certain confidence of God’s character in his Word, chiefly displayed in the death and resurrection of Jesus. We have the assurance that God works everything together for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose (Rom. 8:28)—even the most disastrous of Decembers. When his will doesn’t line up with ours, would we open our hands rather than clenching our fists, because we know who he is and how he works. This Christmas, as reality falls short of the plans we made, instead of grasping for a control that was never meant to be ours, may we be faithful stewards who rest and hope in the finished work and sovereign rule of our King.
QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION/ APPLICATION:
How do you respond when life doesn’t go according to your plans? Are any “December disasters” pressing on your lack of control?
Does God’s sovereignty inspire peace and comfort in your heart, or fear and uncertainty? Are you tempted to grasp for control, or default to passivity or fatalism, when you consider his character?
What does it look like to faithfully steward your life, day by day, under God’s kingship?
How does Jesus Christ, who is fully God yet acquainted with human weakness, offer you hope when life feels out of control?
Lindsay Cournia is a military wife, mom of two, editor, and an online student at Westminster Theological Seminary. She loves serving her local church and fielding her kids' theology questions. In her free time she enjoys cooking from scratch, walking the neighborhood loop, and reading great fiction.